d less
with the hope of attracting custom than in obedience to the requirements
of the law, for Herr Kraus was a "state" official, and bound to conform
to the dictates of the government. His shop was a small triangular
space, in which there was barely room for the learned dispenser and a
single client at the same moment, thus giving to all his interviews the
secrecy of the confessional itself. Jars, phials, flasks, and drawers
rose on every side, not inscribed with the vulgar nomenclature of modern
physic, but bearing the enigmatical marks and hieroglyphics known to
Galen and Paracelsus. Arabic letters, dragons, strange monsters, and
zodiacal signs met the eye everywhere, and did not consort ill with the
spare form and high bald head of the proprietor, whose quaint-figured
dressing-gown and black velvet cap gave him a kind of resemblance to an
alchemist in his workshop. As Grounsell approached the glass door
and peeped in, the scene that presented itself rather assisted this
illusion, for straight in front of the little counter over which Kraus
was leaning, sat the dwarf, Hans Roeckle, talking away with considerable
animation, and from time to time seeming to expatiate upon the merits
of a wooden figure which he held carefully in his hands. The small,
half-lighted chamber, the passive, motionless features of the chemist,
the strange wild gestures of little Hans, as, in his tongue of
mysterious gutturals he poured out a flood of words, amazed Grounsell,
and excited his curiosity to the utmost. He continued to gaze in for a
considerable time, without being able to guess what it might mean, and
at last abandoning all conjecture he resolved to enter. Scarcely had
he touched the handle of the door, however, than the dwarf, seizing the
figure, concealed it beneath the skirt of his fur mantle, and retired
to a corner of the shop. Dr. Grounsell's errand was to obtain certain
medicines for his patient, which, from his ignorance of German, he had
taken the precaution to write down in Latin. He passed the paper in
silence over the counter, and waited patiently as the chemist spelt out
the words. Having read it through, he handed back the paper with a
few dry words, which, being in his native tongue, were totally
incomprehensible.

"You must have these things, surely," exclaimed Grounsell; "they are the
commonest of all medicines;" and then remembering himself, he made signs
in the direction of the drawers and phials to express his