And witnesseth by this indenture,
That nasal attributes are meant here."
Such was his face-his form was what
Is term'd in vulgar parlance-squat.
Compared to him, so plain, so wan,
Such dumpy legs, and bow knees,
A Satyr was Hyperion,

And Buckhorse an Adonis."

As conjugal portraits should be always hung up in couples, I send you the drawing of his wife, with which I shall conclude at present, in the full assurance that the delineation of so tempting a creature will excite an intense curiosity for a further developement of her charms in future communications.

His rib-(to judge by length alone,
I ought to call her his back-bone,)
Tall as a maypole ran,

Two feet of which alarming space
Were dedicated to her face

(Her chin was full a span);
Nay, no incredulous grimaces,
This is the age for length'ning faces.
Her
eyes were always running o'er,
And the two squinting balls they bore,
As if afraid of being wet,

Beneath her nose's bridge would get.
So fond were they of this inversion,
That they were always in eclipse,
Save when on pleasurable trips
They popp'd out on a short excursion.
Her meagre sandy hair was frizzly,
And her appearance gaunt and grizzly.

This rawboned nymph was christen'd Rose,
But why, no human being knows,
Unless when young she might disclose,
Like other blooming misses,
Roses which quickly fled in scorn,
But left upon her chin the thorn,
To guard her lips from kisses.
Her character I need not sketch,
You'll find it as we onward stretch;
But to make all assurance sure,
Behold it here in miniature.
She relish'd tea and butter'd toast,

Better than being snubb'd and school'd.
Liking no less to rule the roust,

Than feast upon the roast she ruled;
And though profuse of tongue withal,
Of cash was economical.

H.

EDINBURGH GRADUATION-DAY.

WE EDNESDAY last was our Graduation-Day. However interesting this may appear to us, or to those who care any thing about the profession, it seems to attract very little notice on the part of the good people of the most excellent town of Edinburgh; and really, when one considers the plentifulness of doctors in those parts, it is impossible to feel any surprise at it. But to a student, particularly if he chance to be of a contemplative turn of mind, and addicted to dreaming, as I am, the day and the ceremonies thereof are full of interest, and even of solemnity. To me, when taking leave of my preceptors, the day seemed like that on which I took leave of my parents; and every act of disobedience, every impatient word, deed, and even thought, with a thousand sins of omission, seemed to rise up before me as something for which I was to repent and weep bitterly. To those too, who have opportunities of knowing the muteriel (as the French military writers say) of the medical students of Edinburgh, and what manner of young men from all quarters of the earth resort to that famous university for instruction in the noble art of medicine, and how devotedly industrious they must be and are, who feel something above the "hard and worldly phlegm" of those who are destined to slumber in everlasting oblivion, before they can present themselves for examination ;-still more to those who look more closely than the crowd into the feelings of the "college lads" (as the Edinburgh mob denominate them) to those who mark how many of the best of them (for these are the most prone to despond) grow pale and sickly in their progress, how many give up the pursuit in despair, and how many even sink untimely, and even rapidly, into their graves;-to such it is a gratifying spectacle to see those who have got honourably through all that is required of them, receive the reward of their labour, care, and perseverance; of their daily fatigue and nightly anxiety;-and who, having given an earnest of all the industry, at least, that is called for in their profession, receive on this day their diplomas to practise it legitimately.

At twelve o'clock then, on the kalends of August, horâ locoque solitis, all our examinations being passed, and our immortal inaugural dissertations valiantly defended, we assembled in the lecture-room of the Materia Medica Professor,-that very room to which we had often resorted on cold, dark, wintry mornings, at the inclement and unjustifiable hour of eight, some of us with eyes smarting from studies too far prolonged into the night, and others with cruel headachs revenging irregularities prolonged into the morning. Not to dwell longer on past griefs, here we were once more-but in the full light of the happiest day of our lives:-here we robed, that is, we arrayed ourselves in black gowns (borrowed, it was said in a whisper, from another learned profession):-and then, two and two, we proceeded at a pace which was an odd mixture of the measured step of a procession and the "skipping of the heart," as somebody has (or has not) called it, and in a most unmerciful rain, to the old library. Many, particularly those of a dark complexion, dark eyes, &c. in short, of what we call the melancholic temperament, were inclined to consider the weather inauspicious; but those of the sanguine cast thought it the best wea

ther they could possibly have, well-knowing that by such weather, in a great measure, they must live. Nor is this altogether theoretical; I could prove, if I had time, that the wealth and respectability of physicians mainly depends on the dampness of the climate. In such countries as Italy and Spain, but particularly the latter, the rank of a physician is very little above that of a billiard-marker. Sed hæc hactenus. On entering the old library, we were arranged round it in two ranks, a long table being placed at the head of the room, with some very majestic arm-chairs, which were to be occupied by the principal and the professors. Whilst we were waiting for these personages, I had time to look round on my fellow-graduates ;—and if I saw among them some whom I should there have least expected

66

"Write it not, my pen."

The sparkling countenances of many of my friends were very amusingly contrasted with the hollow, care-worn, anxious, bilious faces they had carried about with them during the fearful months of the preceding winter, and of which the lines and the hue had become deeper and deeper still," even unto the evening of the day of the primum periculum, which past, all their functions once more went on cheerily, and they were themselves again. I beheld the Scottish students, with the same imperturbable steadiness of person, and the same equivocal smile, which I had remarked for years at lectures. I saw the Irish, the same gay, idle, care-for-nothing fellows that they had been through all the vicissitudes of grinding. I saw the wealthy Indians of the West, with the same happy indifference to every thing but their appearance, which I had long remarked but never admired. Good Genevese, indefatigable Germans, and combustible Americans saw I too, thinking of their distant homes, and looking too happy for words. Lastly, I saw the English, looking, as usual, as if they feared that simple propinquity would force some coarse neighbour into acquaintance with them. And all these I contemplated for the last time -never more to quarrel in my heart with the heavy smile of the studious and persevering Scot; with the hot-headed virtues and vices of the talented Hibernian; with the unqualified inanity of the rich and idle West Indian; or the supercilious solitude of the proud, but highminded and intelligent Saxon.

In the old library, we awaited the principal and professors: the space without the bar was crowded by students looking through the vista of years to the same honours, and believing (alas! how unjustly!) us within to be without a care in the world:-here and there you might see above the heads of these, the face of a father fixed on one figure among the many, and rejoicing in the dignities of his son :-and in the remote corners, mounted on steps, or chairs, or even book-shelves, such was their exhilaration,) friends, flattering friends, looking forward to the joyous hour of dinner, when the new doctor's health was to be drunk in a bumper, and "prosperity to the old University" in another. There was a gallery also, not as the newspapers say "crowded with beauty and fashion," but silent, dusty, and deserted, with not one lady there to reward the actors with a smile, or in any way to temper the severity of the spectacle.

An oath was now read by the Deacon of the Faculty, and taken by

all the graduates, quakers excepted, who swear not at all on this or any other occasion, but affirm as stoutly, and upon occasion as obstinately, as any body. And now took place the pompous entry of the University mace, carried gallantly on by Mr. Wilson (mind, not Mr. Wilson the Professor of Moral Philosophy, but the very ingenious janitor,) before the dignitaries of that ancient and learned institution— the graduates all rising respectfully at their entrance. Before we again became seated, a Latin prayer was offered up by the very reverend the Principal, whose peculiarly impressive manner on public occasions is well known. The silent crowd, the gloomy furniture of the library, the long file of solemn robes, the grave portraits of doctors of the olden time, the busts of those of later years, the piled-up wisdom of ages by which we were surrounded; the decorous carriage of the professors, with their dignified Principal standing in the midst of them and of the graduates; the "dim religious light" shed through the nȧrrow and antique windows; the importance of the occasion-seemed well fitted to moderate our very natural feelings of joy, and to check exuberant and thoughtless levity. Without. affectation I may say, "shrouded in thoughts" of the most imposing description, and was never in my life more thankful that I had no light unballasted chattering friend near me to dispel the pleasing and illusive melancholy of my reflections.

any

I was

I could not help contrasting the high hope depicted in the countenances of the graduates, with the calm and settled dignity of those of their preceptors: the first had the world all before them, drawn and coloured by their fancy, and pictured full of success, of honours, and rewards; the last had seen and known the world; had passed through those years of experience which rob us of our brightest aspirations; and they looked back on the scenes of that same world of which the colours could no longer boast of the "hues of heaven," but were softened in the perspective of years, or injured by accidental calamities; and they felt, perhaps, the vanity and emptiness of all. I could not help fancying that the former part of my life was about to be marked off as something scarcely more to be thought of, or shut out for ever, as by the gate of a Happy Valley, and that a course entirely new was about to be opened to me, in which, if every thing were not to be better, every thing was at least to be different--not only a new denomination, (though, no doubt, that was something)—but new duties to be performed, new projects to be pursued, new hopes to be indulged. thing could be more foolish than this. It is humiliating to find one's self looking forward with anxiety to a life too short for us to gain or lose any thing in it worth a struggle or a care, and flattering ourselves concerning that part of existence which is yet before us-years which we know can only lead us, at the best, through a path of hopes and disappointments, griefs, anxieties, troubled honours, and unquiet wealth, -to retirement, old age, and death. If there were no hopes beyond the grave, I am at a loss to conceive what inducement could be powerful enough to make us contemplate acting and suffering through such a sure succession of scenes so hollow and so unsatisfactory!

No

The next part of the ceremonies of the day was the delivery of a Latin oration, setting forth the merits, the toils, the perils past, of those now presenting themselves for a degree. This task fell to the

Professor of Chemistry, and was performed not without considerable elegance. Those who have heard the prelections of Dr. Hope, will understand that the oration lost nothing in the delivery. I made no secret of deploring the neglect-I may almost say the contempt, of classical learning in the Edinburgh university (though I hope the author of the Hora Subseciva will cause these things to be a little more looked to); but I willingly, and indeed very gladly acknowledge, that this composition was sufficiently creditable to it; and nobody could say with truth that it was a word too short-least of all, those who were going away that very day by the Carlisle mail, or those who were to sail for London in the afternoon:-of these last there were seventeen; and their number, nature, and high spirits, it is said, deterred any female passenger from sailing in the vessel.

All things, however, "which have a limit," as the learned imitator of Dr. Johnson very profoundly remarks," must be brought to a conclusion." The oration ended; we separately walked up, as our names were called, to the library-table, to sign the usual oath or engagement. This part of the ceremony is a very popular one; and to say the truth, it was no small amusement to see the different air and carriage of different men, as they marched up to the table in alphabetical order. Some went sheepishly, and some boldly; some calmly and some hurriedly; some were silly enough to look as if the exaltation and the display, and even the gown they had on, were above their merits; some who had passed the heyday of life, and some who had absolutely dimmed themselves with study, marched quietly and coolly, as if to something they well and truly deserved. Some allowed their gowns to hang down from their shoulders so low as to give at a distance the appearance of a petticoat, looking as if their prudent friends had endeavoured to detain them, or (as a wicked wag from Huntingdonshire remarked behind me) as if they had been rehearsing the celebrated part of Joseph: others, but not without desperate struggles, kept their gowns on. There were tall men with gowns above their knees, looking as if they were about to "tread a measure," or act a part in a Spanish farce; and there were short men, holding their heads and chins very high, whilst their disproportioned gowns (borrowed from the tallest of tall barristers) swept the library-floor. Then some had powdered and pomatumed gowns on; and some figured in those which age and many a dull speech had rendered brown; and many a man had a torn and tattered one. Some of these walked gravely and demurely, as young priests in a procession-some trippingly, as men in a masque. Some, the most amusing of all, had a kind of consequential swagger, and made all kinds of comical faces, intended to express dignity. Some were of so astringent an aspect, that they seemed like men walking to their own execution; or, as a Limerick student observed, to their own funeral and I now and then detected an old army surgeon wrapping his gown round him like a military cloak. It was some time before we got to the end of the alphabet. The last name called was Winter; and a pale student, whom I had often remarked, answered to it. As he left his seat, he agreeably enough observed

"Pale Winter comes at last, and shuts the scene." VOL. VII. NO. X'XVII.

S