which, as he possessed sufficient physiological information to know, would greatly tend to promote digestion. This agreeable and healthful state of quiescence he was not, however, destined to enjoy. He had scarcely finished his cheese, when the invitation to knock and ring, held out upon the door, was complied with, in a manner which would have frightened any one not professionally accustomed to such disturbances nearly out of his senses. Even Mr. Label was startled; and, before he could regain his composure, the servant announced that Mrs. Plummer's carriage was come for him: and that he was expected to go immediately, that lady having been taken suddenly and dangerously ill. Mrs. Plummer was the wife of a rich sugar-baker, and Mr. Label had nothing to do for it but to go. Accordingly, he hurriedly adjusted his white neckcloth, pulled down his black velvet waistcoat, which had risen upon his chest in certain transverse folds during his repast, buttoned his brown great coat up to his chin, donned his broad-brimmed beaver, converted his look of ill-humour into an aspect of becoming solemnity, and deposited his person in Mrs. Plummer's carriage. He found the interesting patient (who was of a very jealous disposition) in a state of high nervous excitement, occasioned by an injudicious smile which her husband had bestowed on the pretty housemaid. She was, in fact, in hysterics; and in the height of indulgence in all those elegant and affecting postures, gestures, and workings of the visage, which, as the malady whereof they are the symptoms seldom attacks ladies when they are by themselves, are probably intended by nature to excite pity and commiseration in the minds of the bystanders. The room having been cleared of all unnecessary persons, and order having been obtained, the lady modulated from a tempest of incoherent vociferations, into a low and pathetic whine; and finally recovered her senses by the means of a smelling-bottle, which she seized with great avidity, in spite of appearing, in other respects, quite unconscious of the presence of surrounding objects. "Compose yourself, my dear Mrs. P.," said Mr. Label. "Oh, Mr. Label! Oh, dear! I shall be off again; I'm sure I shall." 66 Come, come (pat- "Don't give way to it, my dear madam. ting her on the back), you'll do very well. me to recommend this little draught; it will do you good, believe me." So saying, Mr. Label produced from his coat-pocket a small bottle of medicine, of catholic efficacy, which it was his habit to administer on all sudden emergencies. Mrs. Plummer gulphed down the potion with as much eagerness as if she had been in danger of perishing from thirst. It was chiefly composed of an aromatic tincture, and very closely resembled a domestic remedy which she frequently had recourse to in private. "Oh, Mr. Label, I'm such poor nervous creature!" "So you are, ma'am; so you are. haw! -a hundred ;--and the tongue? How is the pulse? Hum- We will take a little febrifuge mixture, and we shall soon get round again, I dare say." "Oh! pray don't send me any nasty physic, sir-pray don't; it makes me ill to think of it. I had rather be bled." Mr. Label ventured to remonstrate. "I must be bled-I must be bled," reiterated the lady. "Plummer will be the death of me; I know he will. Oh, dear! oh, dear! I wish he could know how ill he has made me. Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!" Here she began to exhibit symptoms of a relapse, which Mr. Label observing, and likewise discovering how (to use a vulgar phrase) the cat jumped, found it useless to contend any longer. He, therefore, did as he was desired; the patient taking due care to faint before an ounce of the vital fluid had been withdrawn from the circulating system. When the consequences of the operation had subsided, Mr. Label made one more effort in behalf of his darling draughts; but he was still unsuccessful, and was obliged to content himself with leaving behind him a couple of pills from a little ivory box, which, as well as the bottle, he made a point of always carrying about with him. Thus disappointed, he next repaired to the Hall. [The list of rejected candidates was of more than usual length on that evening.] We are sorry that the nature of this work, and our own regard for truth, have prevented us from drawing upon imagination for the above description of the Apothecary. The "Physician in ordinary to the Masses," may hereafter become a different kind of personage. When the public shall at length have perceived that the cure of a disorder does not always necessitate the swallowing of physic, they will perhaps adopt some other method of remunerating men than by forcing them to sell drugs at twenty times their real value. The rising generation of practitioners is ripe for the change: let us hope that we may, at no distant period, behold its accomplishment; and that the present system of quackery and deceit will then rank with the by-gone evils of antiquated error, and exploded absurdity. THE PRINTER'S DEVIL. BY DOUGLAS JERROLD. THE PRINTER'S DEVIL! There is much romance in the name-nay, much that takes us back to the stern realities of bygone centuries; when ignorance, and its attendant ministers, craft and violence and cruelty, sat in the high places of the world, and the awakening intelligence of man was anathematised and scourged as the evil promptings of the fiend, and the day-spring of moral light was accounted as the "pale reflex" of the eternal fires. Hence, the printer became a wizard and a magician; hence, he had a familiar; hence-the Printer's Devil! In the day of darkness, in the hour of superstition, was our subject christened; it is now nearly four hundred years ago since he was baptized; and though his name was given him as a brand, great and mighty indeed were they who stood his sponsors. He had among them cardinals and mitred abbots; nobles and richest citizens. They took counsel together, and called the goodly creature -Devil. Hence, he was to be seized, and bound and burned to ashes; amidst the chanting of priests, and the swinging of censers, and the aspersions of much holy water! And is it possible-some reader may ask-that little Peter Trampington, Printer's Devil at the office of Vizetelly and Co., at the full salary of five or six shillings per week-is it possible that Peter can have had an origin so wonderful, so perilous? Yes, believe it; the Printer's Devil, though now a household servant-though now he run like a Robin Goodfellow from office to author, and from author to office; though now he wait meekly for copy, or contentedly sleep away the time of composition, tarrying some three or four hours for the chapter or essay that is "just done"-even Peter, in the fifteenth century, might have had the singeing honours of an auto da fe; might have enjoyed a faggot from the same bundle as his master. It is pleasant, passing pleasant, in these times, to look back upon the perils of the printer, seeing him as he now is, crowned with a thousand triumphs. We can, almost with complacency, enjoy the predicament of John Faust, goldsmith of Mentz, offering in the pious d |