The results of a few of the cases mentioned, may be interesting.

The Baronet Sir H—— G. was gradually restored to his habits of activity, and consequent health: the first use he made of it, was to present me with a splendid thorough-bred hunter, and he never seemed satisfied praising my system, my skill, and my success.

The pimple-faced lady, forced to live a natural life, appeared, after a short time, fairer than ever, at least, quite fair enough for a lady with £5,000 per annum. Who can deny that the globules worked this cure?

The nervous lady walked and ate, and consequently slept, till she was heartily tired of walking, eating, and sleeping; and dreading that she might acquire the form, as well as the health and strength of a milkmaid, proclaimed herself cured.

The poor consumptive went, according to my orders, to Devonshire, whence I received a letter almost every week, containing a fee, and a statement of the progress of the malady: these, and all similar letters, Johan answered in terms of sympathy, which would have softened the heart of a nether millstone, and packet after packet of globules was sent, some of which produced wonderfully good effects, and others quite the contrary, which was very odd, as they were all precisely similar, and contained nothing but sugar and starch. When at last, on the approach of winter, she was confined altogether to her bed, I recommended her mother to call in some physician in the neighbourhood. It was done; as a matter of course, the regular prac

titioner put a stop to the homoeopathic treatment; she sunk rapidly, and Homœopathy escaped unscathed. Perhaps, thought her friends, if it had been continued, she might have survived. One thing is certain, that her executors had two hundred guineas less to account for, than if she had not enjoyed the benefit of my valuable aid.

For three years I pursued this course with extraordinary success, and without meeting any contre-tems worth mentioning. I had realized a considerable sum of money, and was growing, perhaps, a little more incautious in my practice than formerly, when events of a peculiar nature occurred, which considerably disturbed my tranquillity, and rendered the remainder of my sojourn in England, although profitable, a series of harassing and perplexing disquietudes.

CHAPTER XII.

"Oh! 'tis an awful thing to yield the young
To the chill, cold embrace of gloomy Death;
To see the plant decay, as soon as sprung,

And Hope's bright flowrets twined with cypress wreath, All feelings rent, and all affections wrung,

And blighted by one blast of passing breath,

And to hear the clay on the hollow shroud sounding,
As tho' 'twere a voice from the dead, loud resounding."

UNPUBLISHED POEM.

I HAD now the proud satisfaction of numbering amongst my patients, and the admirers of my system, persons of all ranks. I had one Duke, several Earls, Lords in multitude, and Commoners and Merchants, richer and more liberal than lords. Whilst in Manchester, I had never violated the rule I had laid down for myself, of requiring all patients to come to me, never visiting any at their own houses; this served two good purposes; viz., bad cases, and those likely to die, could not come, tant mieux! and I had the more time for pocketing fees at home, being kept constantly occupied from early in the morning, till five in the afternoon; the rest of the day I reserved for my own recreation.

Previous to settling in Manchester, I had adopted the name of Eisenberg, my own mean patronymic Gruber, not sounding either sufficiently aristocratic, or

sufficiently German. This is a very usual practice with my countrymen, in other lands, except that they are excessively fond of adding the titles of Count or Baron; from this folly, I had the good sense to abstain. One day, when I was weary of listening for hours, to vast numbers of cases, I retired, for a short time, to refresh myself, when Johan brought me a card, which, he said, a little German gentleman had given him, requesting an interview; it bore the name, "Count Furstenburg." I was not generally fond of seeing my countrymen; but at this particular moment, I felt amiable, and thought it would be a comfort to me to hear, and talk a little of my mother tongue.

"Show the gentleman in."

Judge my surprise, when the Count of Furstenburg entered the room,-to see under that redoubted name, the little, insignificant Professor Sobieski Pöble, whom I had been so instrumental in tormenting at Leipsic

His surprise was not less than my own: our mutual acknowledgment was not a little ludicrous. I cried"Count Furstenburg; Professor Pöble!!!" He simultaneously exclaimed

"Dr. Eisenberg; Carl Gruber!!!"

It was impossible to avoid laughing at our discovered masquerade; and although we entertained a most cordial and mutual hatred to one another at Leipsic, at Manchester we stood in a different position, and strange as it may appear, we embraced, as if old and dear friends. After some little conversation, I had to return to my patients; but Pöble promised to dine with me, and tell me his adventures since we parted.

He did so, and when the wine had warmed him, the prevailing foible of the little man, vanity, led him to such curious disclosures as would, in themselves, form a strange page in the book of human life, but which, I shall not now enter upon; a few incidents in his career, however, I shall mention. From the time we had parted, his existence had been one series of misfortunes, originating in the tricks I had played him, a circumstance, of which he was profoundly unconscious.

In the first place, the Provost of Leipsic, (indignant at the treatment he had received from Pöble, on the evening of the expected arrival of the soi-disant Prince of Bavaria,) had repaired to the Professor's lodgings, early the following morning; not finding any one to answer his inquiries, he proceeded up stairs, and entered the sleeping room, where he found the Professor in the very unprofessional predicament in which we had left him, snoring off the drunkenness of the night before, beside his moustached servant maid, with the gilt funeral coronet still fixed, rather rakishly, to be sure, on her head, and the two link boys still occupying their yestreen's position, as pillow and footboard to the unconscious pair.

The Provost was versed in antiquities; but such a group as this he had never seen: he could not comprehend it; but going away, he returned, with certain others of the Professors, and, after sundry sage surmises, the learned conclave came unanimously to the opinion, that Herr Sobieski Pöble must be in a beastly state of intoxication. This verdict was confirmed by an examination of the neighbouring room, where we had supped,