g a gratuitous doze in the cabin
of the Boulogne steam-boat, which he ascertains does not start until eight
o'clock; whilst Mr. Simpson, the new man, with the usual destiny of such
green productions--thirsty, nauseated, and "coming round"--is safely taken
care of in one of the small private unfurnished apartments which are let
by the night on exceedingly moderate terms (an introduction by a policeman
of known respectability being all the reference that is required) in the
immediate neighbourhood of the Bow-street Police-office. Where Mr. Muff
is--it is impossible to form the least idea; he may probably speak for
himself.

The reader will now please to shift the time and place to two o'clock P.M.
in the dissecting-room, which is full of students, comprising three we
have just spoken of, except Mr. Simpson. A message has been received that
the anatomical teacher is unavoidably detained at an important case in
private practice, and cannot meet his class to day. Hereupon there is much
rejoicing amongst the pupils, who gather in a large semicircle round the
fireplace, and devise various amusing methods of passing the time. Some
are for subscribing to buy a set of four-corners, to be played in the
museum when the teachers are not there, and kept out of sight in an old
coffin when they are not wanted. Others vote for getting up sixpenny
sweepstakes, and raffling for them with dice--the winner of each to stand
a pot out of his gains, and add to the goodly array of empty pewters which
already grace the mantelpiece in bright order, with the exception of two
irregulars, one of which Mr. Rapp has squeezed flat to show the power of
his hand; and in the bottom of the other Mr. Manhug has bored a foramen
with a red-hot poker in a laudable attempt to warm the heavy that it
contained. Two or three think they had better adjourn to the nearest slate
table and play a grand pool; and some more vote for tapping the
preparations in the museum, and making the porter of the dissecting-room
intoxicated with the grog manufactured from the proof spirit. The various
arguments are, however, cut short by the entrance of Mr. Muff, who rushes
into the room, followed by Mr. Simpson, and throwing off his macintosh
cape, pitches a large fluttering mass of feathers into the middle of the
circle.

"Halloo, Muff! how are you, my bean--what's up?" is the general
exclamation.

"Oh, here's a lark!" is all Mr. Muff's reply.

"Lark!" cries Mr. Rapp; "you're d