bless themselves with, are of dealing when they
get into the realms of fiction with cheques to a
large amount, scattering them about plentifully
enough, and making them over, with the greatest
liberality, to anybody who will have them. On
one occasion, when the fever of the dep?tant is
at its height, our medical friend, on going to her
lodgings to pay his accustomed visit, finds the
room empty, and the invalid flown. The
extraordinary nature of this proceeding is, we must
suppose, the means of so far unsettling his mind
as to a little blunt the acuteness of his sense of
honour, for, upon perceiving a note lying on the
bed, directed to the dep?tant, we find that he
takes it up and reads it, justifying this step to
himself by reflecting that he is a medical man,
a piece of reasoning in which we find it difficult
to follow him, and which seems to suggest the
necessity of a lock and key to one's desk
whenever medical attendance may become necessary.

The letter which thus falls into our surgeon's
hands proving to be an anonymous communication,
by which the dep?tant is exhorted to be
present, at all hazards, at the theatre that very
night, sends the young surgeon off with a hop
skip and a jump to the Porte Saint-Martin,
where he besieges that most inaccessible of
places, a stage door, with but indifferent
success. And here, again, we find the liberality of
our Story-teller coming out again, the young
surgeon scattering five-franc pieces about in all
directions in his wish to secure the good offices
of the doorkeeper and his assistants. After
sending message after message to the dep?tant,
and all of them in vain, the surgeon abandons
the attempt, and, going round to the front, takes
his usual place in the pit, a proceeding on the
success of which every one who remembers what
a French pit and its crammed condition
invariably are, will not fail warmly to congratulate
him. The first person whom our medical friend
perceives in the theatre is the Prince de Cond
in a stage-box, and, sad to say, in intimate
conversation with a Russian princess of inconceivable
beauty. The reader will recognise the story
when it is further mentioned that upon the
drawing up of the curtain the dep?tant acts the
story of her own life, and when she dies at the
end of the piece, does really die, then and there,
before the public.

Such is the brief outline of the story with
which the professional lady opened the evening's
entertainment. It lasted about half an hour,
and left the audience thoroughly mystified and
bewildered. The interval which elapsed between
this narration and that which was to succeed
was spent by the E.-W. in endeavouring to
extract from a weak young man, with an
uncontrollable smile, who sat next him, such information
about the Story-tellers as this youth was
able, in the intervals of smiling, to impart. From
the evidence of this embarrassed personage, he
gathered that these weekly meetings had been
going on for many months, that it was a
successful speculation, that this was the first evening
on which a lady had appeared (more female
occupation developing itself!), and that on
previous occasions two gentlemen had entertained
the company on alternate Sundays; "as you
might say," the young man added, "turn and
turn about."

It appeared in a few minutes that the serious
and comic stories were also administered "turn
and turn about," for when the professional lady
again took her seat upon the platform, it was to
enliven the company with a tale of an hilarious
nature.

Concerning this narration it is the intention
of your Eye-witness to say as little as he
possibly can. It would be impossible to conceive
of anything more dreary than its mirth or more
complete than its success. When the hideous
fact has been mentioned that the name of the
hero of the tale was Mr. Piminy Scuffles, enough,
let us hope, has been said to convince the reader
of the appalling nature of comedy among the
Story-tellers, and to exonerate the writer from
reviving the recollection of his sufferings during
the progress of this terrible narrative.

From the moment when the man who had
determined not to be amused made the discovery
that he was intended to laugh at the history of
Mr. Piminy Scuffles, his face became a sight to
behold. Steadily averting all countenance and
support from the professional lady by still keeping
his back to her, even at great personal
inconvenience, this gentleman went through a
series of convulsions in his efforts to suppress
the explosions of laughter in which the rest of
the company indulged so freely that they made
the glasses ring upon the table. The throes of
this unfortunate man in his efforts to repress the
strong tendency he felt to enjoy himself became
every moment more terrible to behold. As for
the rest, their reception of this story was one of
the most remarkable things ever beheld by your
Eye-witness. They screamed, they rolled upon
the benches, the young man with the smile
laughed so much that he was obliged to get up
from his seat and lean against the wall, and as to
the little mechanic, what with much clawing by
his children, what with the rarely known enjoyment
of a little hot gin-and-water, and what
with laughter to a tearful excess, he became so
moist and clammy that his very substance seemed
to ooze out of the pores of his skin, and your
Eye-witness will wager a refreshment-ticket of
admission to the "Story-tellers," that he went
out of that institution a lighter and a weaker
man. It is useless to conceal the fact that the
little man had everything to apprehend on
getting outside from the grim and bony matron who
bore his name, and who sitting, unmoved by
tragedy or comedy, behind her husband, would,
at those moments when his delight was at the
highest, punch him severely between the shoulder-
blades with the handle of her umbrella.

The Eye-witness is at the end of his report.
After the second retirement of the professional
lady at the termination of the comic story, and
after a due interval allowed for the discussion
which now as on the conclusion of the previous
narrative took place among the company as to
the merits of what they had heard—after these