been set out for him. He lingered for some minutes over his toilette to enjoy appliances so new to him; set his luxuriant and glossy hair in order, and left his collar negligently loose, to afford free motion to his finely set head. His toilette, like the bath of Ulysses, had removed all traces of fatigue from his person, and renovated the beauty of his face and figure. It was not without a sense of his personal grace, and an air of dignity, that he entered the room which had been indicated to him. There was no one in it, but a table in the centre was spread out with a choice repast. He was too hungry to feel any scruple about availing himself of his host's hospitality, and he partook of the tempting delicacies set before him with an appetite which would have done honour to one of Homer's or of Scott's heroes. He felt more hesitation in partaking of the wine on the table; but at length he ventured to take a decanter from the splendidly chased cooler in which it stood. He paused, however, before filling his glass, and, looking round, perceived that his host was at his side attentively regarding him. He chose to ascribe the youth's hesitation to fear.

"The days for enchantment are past," he said, "or you might be excused for regarding me as a Comus, though doubtless his power, and that of his mother, Circe, consisted in their liquor, not their magic. You see you may drink of this safely."

As he spoke he poured some sparkling Rhenish wine into his glass and drank it. The scholar followed his example, and then, before setting his glass on the table, held it for a moment to the light, to admire the effect of the many-coloured crystal. On its inner surfaces were pictured fruits and foliage in brilliant hues.

"This art," said Cavendish, replying to the scholar's admiration, "the manufacturer told me he had brought to perfection by years of patient experiment. Is the result worth his labour?"

"I think so," said the youth. "Small advances are not to be neglected, and it is only by successive experiments that excellence can be attained."

"How much wiser can men think and speak than they can act!" returned his companion. "Did it ever strike you that experiment has been greatly neglected in one science?"

"Not that I recollect. May I ask to you allude?"

what

"To the science of humanity. We have much to learn in that yet. The clay is of fine temper: it is a pity more care is not taken to fashion it."

The youth was a little puzzled by the turn the discourse had taken. He did not comprehend what his strange host meant, and he asked at random

"Would you propose to make experiments with men and women, then?"

"Yes, or for what purpose have I brought you here? I design you," he said, fixing his piercing glance on the scholar, "for what an anatomist would term one of my subjects. Do not be alarmed; I will deal fairly with you. I intend to grant your wish; nothing more. First let me know your history."

"Indeed, it is not worth your hearing. Brought up in the family of a poor clergyman in Devon, I have only just come to town to seek my own livelihood."

"Have you no parents?” "No!"

"Nor relatives?"

"No!"

"Nor friends?"

"Again I must say, No!"

"I must question you more closely. What is your name?"

"Florian Tremore."

"And your present residence?" "An attic in Staines' Inn."

"And your position?"

"Classical teacher in the school known as Prospect-house, Camden Town. I walk there in the morning and return at night." "How long have you been in London?" "Scarcely three weeks."

"What was the occasion of your arrival!" "I will save you the trouble of further question, sir, by telling all I know of myself in a few words:

"My father was a curate in Cornwall. He married the dependent of a good family, with which he, too, was distantly connected; but he died before his expected promotion came. I was then a child, and went with my mother to reside with her wealthy relatives. But the head of the house died, and soon after his death his family were scattered, and reduced to absolute want. My mother never recovered the shock; and I was left alone.”

“Who was your next protector, then?”

"A kind good man, who had no family of his own, and who took me simply from the regard he bore my parents. His living furnished him with the necessaries he required, but no more. He taught me all he knew, I believe; and I can boast of a fair share of classical learning, and some knowledge of Oriental languages. He supported me for three years at the Leyden University. He left barely enough to pay his funeral expenses. He saved nothing; for his trust in Providence was so perfect, that he almost thought it sin to look beyond the day. I had no immediate thought of leaving him, as he always insisted that my studies were not complete. His death, some months ago, deprived me of the only friend I had in the world. I have nothing more to tell. On arriving in London I was compelled to take the first situation which offered itself, but I am now tired of it."

This outline was true as far as it went; but it did not tell all the truth, as the reader will find as he proceeds. The disposition of Tremore, though in many respects ingenuous, was not perfectly open. Like all persons deficient in moral strength, he was addicted to those little acts of concealment and strata