in favor of my way of life, which I have before
mentioned as being that of a surgeon. He would frequently attend me
on my visits to patients; and I began to think that he had serious
intentions of making my profession his study.

He was present with me at a scene--a, _death-bed scene_--I shudder
when I do but think of it.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XIII.

I was sent for the other morning to the assistance of a gentleman,
who had been wounded in a duel,--and his wounds by unskilful
treatment had been brought to a dangerous crisis.

The uncommonness of the name, which was _Matravis_, suggested to me,
that this might possibly be no other than Allan's old enemy. Under
this apprehension, I did what I could to dissuade Allan from
accompanying me--but he seemed bent upon going, and even pleased
himself with the notion, that it might lie within his ability to do
the unhappy man some service. So he went with me.

When we came to the house, which was in Soho-square, we discovered
that it was indeed the man--the identical Matravis, who had done all
that mischief in times past--but not in a condition to excite any
other sensation than pity in a heart more hard than Allan's.

Intense pain had brought on a delirium--we perceived this on first
entering the room--for the wretched man was raving to
himself--talking idly in mad unconnected sentences--that yet seemed,
at times, to have reference to _past facts_.

One while he told us his dream. "He had lost his way on a great
heath, to which there seemed no end--it was cold, cold, cold,--and
dark, very dark--an old woman in leading-strings, _blind_, was
groping about for a guide"--and then he frightened me,--for he seemed
disposed to be _jocular_, and sang a song about "an old woman clothed
in gray," and said "he did not believe in a devil."

Presently he bid us "not tell Allan Clare."--Allan was hanging over
him at that very moment, sobbing.--I could not resist the impulse,
but cried out, "_This_ is Allan Clare--Allan Clare is come to see
you, my dear Sir."--The wretched man did not hear me, I believe, for
he turned his head away, and began talking of _charnel-houses_, and
_dead men_, and "whether they knew anything that passed in their
coffins."

Matravis died that night.

* * * * *

ESSAYS.

RECOLLECTIONS OF CHRIST'S HOSPITAL.

To comfort the desponding parent with the thought that, without
diminish