professors think well of you, and the new men deem yon little less than a
mental Colossus. Say, also, "you were complimented by the Court." This
advice is, however, scarcely necessary, as we never know a student pass
who was not thus honoured--according to his own account.

* * * * *

All things being arranged to his satisfaction, he deposits his papers
under the care of Mr. Sayer, and passes the interval before the fatal day
much in the same state of mind as a condemned criminal. At last Thursday
arrives, and at a quarter to four, any person who takes the trouble to
station himself at the corner of Union-street will see various groups of
three and four young men wending their way towards the portals of
Apothecaries' Hall, consisting of students about to be examined,
accompanied by friends who come down with them to keep up their spirits.
They approach the door, and shake hands as they give and receive wishes of
success. The wicket closes on the candidates, and their friends adjourn to
the "Retail Establishment" opposite, to _go the odd man_ and pledge their
anxious companions in dissector's diet-drink--_vulgo_, half-and-half.

Leaving them to their libations, we follow our old friend Mr. Joseph Muff.
He crosses the paved court-yard with the air of a man who had lost
half-a-crown and found a halfpenny; and through the windows sees the
assistants dispensing plums, pepper, and prescriptions, with provoking
indifference. Turning to the left, he ascends a solemn-looking staircase,
adorned with severe black figures in niches, who support lamps. On the top
of the staircase he enters a room, wherein the partners of his misery are
collected. It is a long narrow apartment, commonly known as "the
funking-room," ornamented with a savage-looking fireplace at one end, and
a huge surly chest at the other; with gloomy presses against the walls,