o tickets, whereupon we were admitted into a long,
low room filled by a mixed audience consisting of men. Upon the
platform at the further end was a man of middle age, with short fair
beard, grey eyes, and an alert, resolute manner--a foreigner by his
dress--and beside him an Englishman of spruce professional
appearance--much older, slightly bent, with grey countenance and white
hair.

We arrived just at the moment of the opening of the proceedings. The
Englishman, whom I set down to be a medical man, rose, and in
introducing the lecturer beside him, said:

"I have the honour, ladies and gentlemen, to introduce to you Doctor
Paul Deboutin--who, as most of you know, is one of the most celebrated
medical men in Paris, professor at the Salpetriere, and author of many
works upon nervous disorders. The study of the latter is not,
unfortunately, sufficiently taken up in this country, and it is in
order to demonstrate the necessity of such study that my friends and
myself have invited Doctor Deboutin to give this lecture before an
audience of both medical men and the laity. The doctor asks me to
apologise to you for his inability to express himself well in English,
but personally I have no fear that you will misunderstand him."

Then he turned, introduced the lecturer, and re-seated himself.

I was quite unprepared for such a treat. Deboutin, as every medical
man is aware, is the first authority on nervous disorders, and his
lectures have won for him a world-wide reputation. I had read all his
books, and being especially struck with "Nevroses et Idees Fixes," a
most convincing work, had longed to be present at one of his
demonstrations. Therefore, forgetful that I was there for some unknown
reason, I settled myself to listen.

Rapidly and clearly he spoke in fairly good English, with a decision
that showed him to be perfect master at once of his subject and of the
phrases with which he intended to clothe his thoughts. He briefly
outlined the progress of his experiments at the Salpetriere, and at
the hospitals of Lyons and Marseilles, then without long preliminary,
proceeded to demonstrate a most interesting case.

A girl of about twenty-five, with a countenance only relieved from
ugliness by a fine pair of bright dark eyes, was led in by an
assistant and seated in a chair. She was of the usual type seen in the
streets of Islington, poorly dressed with some attempt at faded
finery--probably a workgirl in some city factor