e link-bearers
of old used to quench their torches, which formed part of the sombre-
coloured ironwork that skirted the area. The gloomy monotony of the
street was slightly relieved by a baker's shop at one corner and a
chemist's at the other. But for these, the general aspect would have
been one of unbroken dinginess.

Nor did the interior of the doctor's house present a much livelier
appearance.

The entrance-hall, which was dark and narrow, had rather a sepulchral
smell about it, which was not otherwise than in keeping with some
shelves of books at the farther end--the overflow apparently of the
doctor's library; the tall, dark volumes therein looking like so many
tombs of the _dead_ languages.

To the left, as you entered the hall, was a dining-room massively
furnished, adorned with a few family portraits, and as many vigorous
engravings. But there lacked that indescribable air of comfort which
often characterises those rooms devoted to the innocent and social
refreshment of the body at meal-times. The chairs, though in themselves
all that dining-room chairs ought to be, did not look as if on a
habitual good understanding with one another; some were against the
wall, and others stood near the table, and at irregular distances, as
though they never enjoyed that cozy fraternity so desirable in well-
conditioned seats. Books, too, lay about in little zigzag heaps; while
a bunch of keys, a pair of lady's gloves, and a skein of coloured wool
lay huddled together on the centre of the sideboard. The whole
arrangement, or rather disarrangement, of the room bespoke, on the part
of the presiding female management, an indifference to those minor
details of order and comfort a due attention to which makes home (a
genuine English home) the happiest spot in the world.

Opposite to this room, on the other side of the hall, was another of
similar size, used apparently as a sort of reception-room. Huge book-
shelves occupied two of the walls, an orrery stood against a third,
while dusty curiosities filled up the corners. There was something
peculiarly depressing about the general appearance and tone of this
apartment,--nothing bright, nothing to suggest cheerful and happy
thoughts,--plenty of food for the mind, but presented in such an
indigestible form as was calculated to inflict on the consumer
intellectual nightmare. This room was known as the library.

But we pass on to the doctor's own special room--the study.