s the exact state of their thoracic viscera, and he
talks of enlarged semilunar valves, and thickened ventricles with an air
of alarming confidence. And yet we rather doubt his skill upon this point;
we never perceived anything more than a sound and a jog, something similar
to what you hear in the cabin of a fourpenny steam-boat, and especially
mistrusted the "metallic tinkling," and the noise resembling a
blacksmith's bellows blowing into an empty quart-pot, which is called the
_bruit de soufflet_. Take our word, when medicine arrives at such a pitch
that the secrets of the human heart can be probed, it need not go any
further, and will have the power of doing mischief enough.

The new man does not enter much into society. He sometimes asks a few
other juniors to his lodgings, and provides tea and shrimps, with
occasional cold saveloys for their refection, and it is possible he may
add some home-made wine to the banquet. Their conversation is exceedingly
professional; and should they get slightly jocose, they retail anatomical
paradoxes, technical puns, and legendary "catch questions," which from
time immemorial have been the delight of all new men in general, and
country ones in particular.

But diligent and industrious as the new man may be, he is mortal after
all, and being mortal, is not proof against temptation--at least, after
five or six weeks of his pupilage have passed. The good St. Anthony
resisted all the endeavours of the Evil One to lure him from the proper
path, until the gentleman of the discoloured _cutis vera_ assumed the
shape of a woman. The new man firmly withstands all inducements to
irregularity until his first temptation appears in the form of the
Cyder-cellars--the convivial Rubicon which it is absolutely necessary for
him to pass before he can enrol himself as a member of the quiet,
hard-working, modest fraternity of the Medical Student of our London
Hospitals.

_Facilis descensus Averni._--The steps that lead from Maiden-lane to the
Cyder-cellars are easy of descent, although the return is sometimes
attended with slight difficulty. Not that we wish to compare our favourite
_souterrain_ in question to the "Avernus" of the Latin poet; oh, no! If
AEneas had met with roast potatoes and stout during his celebrated voyage
across the Styx to the infernal regions, and listened to songs and glees
in place of the multitude of condemned souls, "horrendum stridens," we
wager that he would have been in n