an account of my religious faith. Of course I spoke up for myself. I told him my religion was certainly a little peculiar; but nevertheless it was a very good and very strong one—and he didn't seem much troubled about the state of my soul; indeed, I believe that, on the whole, he considered that it was a little safer than most of the ladies' of his acquaintance! So, mother, I beg you to take the same view of the matter. Altogether, I met with the heartiest reception. The doctor placed all his influence at my service, and Mrs. Leifchild will write you all the news of your old Bristol friends. So I hope you approve of my calling. . . .
Now I am writing in a queer place—viz. one of the wards of St. Bartholomew's, whilst awaiting the visit of one of the physicians. This famous old hospital is only five minutes' walk from my lodgings, and every morning, as the clock strikes nine, I walk down Holborn Hill, make a short cut through the once famous Cock Lane, and find myself at a gate of the hospital that enables me to enter with only a side glance at Smithfield Cattle Market. 'Punch' had really frightened me by his account of the dangerous tumult of animals; but, happily, I need only glance across the open space, forgetting the bulls, pigs, &c., that occupy it now, and also the fearful fires of persecution once lighted there, and try to bring back the time when it was lined with gay tents, and surrounded by galleries filled with beauty, eager to witness the brilliant encounters of arms that took place there in the age of tournaments. Now a little dark figure with doctorial sack and writing-case under arm makes its way through assembling students, who politely step aside to let it pass, and entering the museum, studies its numerous preparations till the hour of lecture, when an attendant shows it to a seat. I only attend regularly one course of lectures—viz. Mr. Paget's very interesting course on
