and the Trinity men do not envy the scholars of King's their chapel,
when they behold that statue. The dean of Trinity, the Rev. W. Carns,
author of the 'Life of Simeon,' is the present possessor of the rooms
once occupied by Newton. The little watch tower where he pierced the
heavens with his telescope is still standing. One ascends it, and
surveys the firmament, not without a reverential feeling. Cambridge
abounds with the associations of genius. Chaucer studied here, and at
Oxford also, it is said; and in treading the great court of Trinity, one
cannot help thinking of Bacon. Milton's mulberry tree is yet standing,
and puts forth a few fresh leaves every spring in the garden of Christ's
College. His manuscript of 'Comus,' partly in his own writing, partly in
that of his amanuensis--of one of his daughters, it is probable--is in
the library of Trinity College, and may be seen by the curious. The
spirits of these venerable men still haunt the scenes of their studious
youth, and with their mighty shadows brooding over us, what is the value
of dollars and dimes?

A PHYSICIAN'S STORY.

'Phil, keep the office door shut and the windows open. None of your
sacrilegious games of marbles on the front steps. Behave yourself
respectably, and wash bottles till I come back, or I'll turn you off
to-morrow. Have an eye to Mrs. Thompson's gate, and if anybody _should_
call for me, you know where I am to be found, I suppose?

Phil responded by a grinning nod, the question was superfluous. It is an
attribute of boys of fourteen that they know everything they should
_not_ know, and if there be one of the class who excels his fellows in
useless knowledge, my Phil is that lad. Apparently busied forever in
those light but continuous labors which pertain to an office boy, he
contrived to keep a far more watchful eye upon my movements than I was
able to do upon his, and could tell (probably did) exactly in what
direction I usually bent my steps after the above formula, whether I
walked on the right or left hand side of the street, and how soon I
reached my destination--the number of times my tender knuckles came in
contact with a certain hard green door, and the reception that awaited
me inside it, the length of my stay--the only thing he had a legitimate
right to know--and the mien, cheerful or dejected, according to the
fortunes of the day, with which I returned to the empty office and full
bottles, over which he was supposed to