virtue. It but remains for me to add, that the ensuing tales are all well grounded in fact, the names of persons and places only being suppressed; I seek only to tell a plain, unvarnished tale, and, with this brief prelude, I will now introduce

THE GHOUL.

Many years have elapsed since the last great epidemic of cholera broke out in this country. At this distance of time, it is next to impossible to convey any adequate idea of the dismay and terror which rapidly overspread the land. The horror and consternation which attacked the whole metropolis, and especially that portion of it in which the dread and rapidly fatal disease broke out, may well be imagined. A stampede, as general as the varying circumstances of families and individuals would permit, soon governed the city, and the exodus of those persons who could afford to leave their posts, or who were afraid to remain at them, was rapid and complete.

To this affrighted scamper there was, as is usual in such cases, one brilliant exception. Medical men, instead of shunning a poison which, in the early stages of such epidemics they knew to be most fatal, eagerly came forward to render every assistance in their power, and at the same time to try and ascertain what was the cause of the scourge, in the hope that they might be able to devise means to check its spread and to combat its effects.

If the reader will just bear in mind that no medical men are legally bound to cast themselves into danger, and further, that they usually get no recompense more substantial than thanks for the great danger they incur and the trouble and privation they endure, the magnitude of the services they render to humanity can scarcely be exaggerated.

And it is of these men, who devote the larger part of a frequently unrewarded life to deeds of kindness, charity, sublime self-sacrifice, and too often to the immolation of life itself at the shrine of suffering humanity, that the Poet Laureate, in his recent Ballads and other Poems, thus writes:

He was happier using the knife than in trying to save the limb; And that I can well believe, for he looked so coarse and so red, I should think he was one of those who could break their jests on the dead,

And mangle the living dog that had loved him and fawned at his knee,

Drenched with the hellish oorali-that ever such things should be.

I am no special pleader for the profession, and I hold no brief to defend them from malevolent, half-informed or grossly ignorant attacks, but considerable experience has convinced me that the public has not a sufficiently accurate and lively idea of the arduous nature of the work, and of the risks constantly run by every practitioner in the land.

What can speak more strongly in favour of the self-devotion of the medical craft than the fact that, during this and other similar epidemics, medical men, and also the much reviled medical student, either experimented on themselves or gave themselves up to experiment, so that the mode of entrance and action of the cholera poison might be ascertained? Can anything other than the high sense of their duties to the public, their exalted idea of moral obligation, and their loyalty to the best traditions of the noble profession to which they had the honour to belong, explain conduct which all must consider unselfish, and which some may regard as insane?

Fiat experimentum in corpore vili, but in these instances the subjects of experiment were healthy, and for the most part strong young men, who voluntarily slept in the beds of patients who had died of cholera, and who had only just been removed from them. In other instances they submitted to be injected with, or to swallow, the poison; and although some of the experiments-fortunately for the subjects of them-proved abortive, in others the cholera fiend soon made an end of its victim, and swelled the already long list of martyrs to science.

Those who know nothing of the humane manner and high objects with which the leading physiologists conduct their experiments on chloroformed animals, maunder ignorantly and insultingly about the cruelty of vivisection; but while they try, and very efficaciously, to misrepresent the facts to a public wholly ignorant of the true state of the case, they entirely omit to draw attention to the instances of human beings in the shape of much abused medical men who have submitted to, and often died from, experiments which might possibly have taught quite as much had they been made on inferior animals.

Another method for the discovery of the nature of the disease, fraught with its own particular risks, added to that of the imbibition of the poison, was the making of post-mortem examinations. Patients, in the earlier stages of the outbreak, died so rapidly, and so many were brought in dead, that the bodies were obliged to be piled up against the walls of the post-mortem room, awaiting examination from the overworked doctors.

In my desire to learn as much as I could, both previous to and during the epidemic, I was frequently to be found in the mortuary, and thus it came about that I was nicknamed The Ghoul. The epithet, taking into consideration its Persian origin and signification a feeder on dead bodies - can scarcely be considered flattering; but I knew that my fellowworkers meant it as an oblique compliment, intending to convey the idea that my appetite for knowledge, which I might subsequently use for the benefit of my fellow-creatures, battened on the revelations of the dead. It was a species of intellectual cannibalism, of which anyone devoted to his profession need not be ashamed.

A word of justice to the porters and nurses. The nurses of those days were women from the inferior classes, and very few indeed deserted their posts, and happily very few died. Many a deed of unsurpassably heroic devotion could I relate of those poor and badly educated women, and little reward did they get but the thanks of the committee and doctors, and the pleasant memories of the gratitude of those who had passed away, and whose agonies they had, under instruction, done their best to mitigate. At the time of which I am writing, I was Senior House-Surgeon to the Hospital, the institution to which most of the cholera cases were brought, and it was about ten o'clock at night when, after having seen that all the cases under my care were as comfortable as they could be under the circumstances, and that everything necessary for them was done, that I went to my room for a little rest.

I had only been lying on the sofa a few minutes, when Jones, clinical or physician's assistant* to Dr. came in. He was soon followed by Jupiter, Thomason, Reynolds, and one who had earned for himself the soubriquet of The Butcher.

For some time silence overpowered us. We were not afraid, for we were too accustomed to the work to think of fear, and we were not exhausted though very tired. Was it the silence

* This opportunity will serve to dispel a very popular error. It is generally thought by the public that the house-surgeon is the autocrat of the hospital, when in fact he, as well as the resident physician, are only senior students who have just passed their examinations; very valuable and useful men, and chosen from among the best useful students at the medical colleges; but, nevertheless, they are not the big bosses of the medical or surgical departments of the hospital. Their duties are to take charge of, and be responsible for, the cases under the care of their respective Surgeons or Physicians, and to send for them in cases of urgency. The term clinical has reference to the work which is chiefly at the bedside.

and gloom which surrounded us that depressed our spirits; and could it be that the world had deserted us? The neighbourhood of the hospital was quiet by day, and ghastly still at night, save when a cart or cab brought in another cholera case. The sounds of our own voices and movements, the too-frequent shrieks and groans of the poor patients, were the only noises now that met our ears. So intensely quiet was the room at intervals, that our breathing became distinctly audible, and when the hospital clock struck the quarter, we all involuntarily started as its tones reverberated through the building. It seemed to us the sad knell of another patient borne to eternity, and as the sound of the clock-bell gradually lessened into diminishing waves, until it reached that state of silence from which it had been disturbed; it made us think of the unknown journey which that spirit might be taking, until it became absorbed for ever in the great haven of rest.

My thoughts unaided sped to my country home. I knew that my mother had heard of the cholera outbreak, and had applied for permission to see me at the hospital, but for her own safety had, like many others, been refused. Reverie seized me, and, as in a dream, I saw my poor widowed mother in her bed so familiar to me, beside which I had often kissed her, saying, "Good night, mother," and had met with the fervent and sweet response, "Good night my boy, and God bless you!" Now, a sad smile was moving her countenance; and its gentle ripple seemed to merge into the wavy crimples of her silverstreaked hair. Her eyelids were becoming bedewed with tears, which, as they glided along from the lachrymal fount to their inner conduit, shone like brilliants from between the soft long lashes which they gently moved, as does a zephyr, smoothly wafting over a field of long grass recently rain-besprinkled, tenderly stir its blades. Her mouth moved as though in prayer for her children; a deep sigh parted her lips, and kind Morpheus again took her under his wing.

I was awakened from this waking dream by the sensation of two tears coursing down my cheeks. Oh, rivulets of the heart! bitter-sweet warm sister tears, I thank ye for the good lesson that night taught me as ye trickled along with alternate gentle rush and sudden pause.

We were gradually merging into melancholy, and I bethought me something must be done, or we should all get the mopes. Cards were out of the question; anecdotes were not to be thought of; and conversation was, under the circumstances, our

only legitimate resource.

But the conversation had to be

forced; so I brought out the brandy-bottle and tobacco, then

rang the bell for our Abigail.

Susan soon appeared.

"We want some water, Susan; have you any that has not been kept long in the hospital?”

"Yes, sir; and it's been well filtered and boiled."

"Ah, that's right. Then let us have some as soon as you can, for we are very tired and low-spirited, and want a little stimulant."

"No wonder, sir, seeing as 'ow you gentlemen works so 'ard. I wonder you ain't all of you hill with this 'ere 'orrible colery." So saying, Susan went on her quest.

"A good servant that," said Jupiter; "and very kind and gentle-hearted, but so timid. Do you know, Ghoul, I've never seen her in any of the wards yet, even in ordinary times."

"No," chimed in Jones; "and I've questioned her about it. 'It's not fear, sir,' she said; 'except that I'm afraid, and can't a-bear to see anyone suffering; and has for a hoperation, I think that's horful, and 'ow you gentlemen and the nusses can see and do the 'orrid things as you does, beats my constitooshun altogether.' Poor, tender-hearted, ignorant Susan, she hadn't education enough to know that that which is necessary for a sufferer's benefit may, truly, not be pleasant for a surgeon to have to do or for a patient to endure, but can only be horrid in a sense which is understood only by the ignorant. Did her like know more, they would readily admit that non-interference is, in the vast majority of cases, worse than operation. We haven't anything but cholera cases in the house now, Ghoul; it's getting monotonous. Soon after the first few cases of cholera were admitted, all the other patients left the hospital, and we have not taken in any cases of the numerous other interesting maladies to which flesh is heir."

"They are afraid to come in now," said the promising surgeon; "and can you be surprised at it? But I do wish some good cases of surgical disease or uncommon accident would apply for admission."

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'For shame! Do you wish people to be ill or severely hurt simply to gratify your insatiable taste for surgery."

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Certainly not; don't misunderstand me," said the Butcher warmly. "What I mean is, that should it so happen that anyone has a bad hurt, or a good tumour, I hope that person will come here. That's all, don't you see?"

VOL. I.

G