1837-38. STORY OF A HAT. 113 



poking, and peering, and rattling at the said door. For the last 

 month the door has been most carefully attended to (this being 

 the primary chemical duty of the Doctor's assistants), because 

 the new students are taking out his ticket, and he says himself 

 merrily, ' I am willing enough to run to the door just now when 

 the prospect of a fee allures me, but you'll see, Mr. Wilson, I'll 

 not be so alert by and by.' 



" Well, Christison and two of us were standing together carry- 

 ing on some analysis of salts ; over and over again the door had 

 been knocked at, and shaken, and rattled. ' That restless door/ 

 says Christison ; but I know something more restless. 



" It happened, the Doctor told us, refusing to answer some 

 questions about the chemical operations we were engaged in, and 

 declaring that he would tell his story first, that when he was a 

 young man, he was a clerk in the Infirmary, residing there. 

 Among his companions was a grand-nephew of the celebrated 

 Cullen, the physician, a very clever young fellow, by far the 

 cleverest person Christison had ever seen ; moreover, good- 

 looking and handsome, and having a very large circle of ac - 

 quaintance among the fashionables of Edinburgh, and a great 

 favourite, from his talents, handsomeness, and politeness, with 

 the ladies. Accordingly, when he and any of his companions 

 walked through the streets together, every few minutes he met 

 some one he recognised, especially ladies, and of course he 

 politely raised his hat and did graceful obeisance. Well (for 

 my plot is complicated), there was another Infirmary clerk, one 



S , I think, an ' uncombed' lad from the country, who, from 



his various oddities, was the butt of the rest ; nevertheless by 

 no means destitute of some cleverness, and although generally 

 the theme of ridicule, often succeeding, as you must have seen 

 such persons do, by lucky single strokes, in occasionally flooring; 

 a whole bevy of cleverer fellows. One day, after dinner, it 

 chanced that the clerks, being very religious, fell to talking 

 about the probability and nature of punishments in another 

 world. Espousing the doctrines of Pythagorean transmigration, 

 they wondered much into what sort of animal or form each 

 would be transformed. ' I wonder,' sang out Cullen over the 

 table, 'what animal you'll be turned into, S -?' 'I don't 



H 



