PROFESSOR OWEN 
CH. I- 
out the keyhole, unlocked the iron door and 
passed through. This door I did not lock after 
me, but left wide open. I tried to whistle as I 
proceeded ; but it seemed a mockery to attempt 
to make any sound heard amid the indescrib- 
able crescendos and diminuendos which filled 
that xlismal access to the abodes of sickness 
and death. And as I slowly proceeded my 
mind became suddenly and at once occupied — 
filled to the exclusion of every other idea — with 
the scene I had witnessed for the first time that 
morning. It came upon me so suddenly and dis- 
tinctly that I involuntarily stopped : the picture 
of the whole procedure, with those features that 
had most appalled me, rose in hard outline before 
my mind’s eye, and I tried again to reason and 
shake it off “ Men must be dissected,” I said to 
myself ; but I wished I had never witnessed 
those pallid collapsed features. I then believed 
in ghosts, and three or four of the best authenti- 
cated cases vividly recurred to me, and, as these 
thoughts passed through my mind, every step 1 
took was rapidly bringing me nearer the entry 
of that cold and dreary chamber, where — but 
I wasn’t going to think of that any more. 1 
had unlocked the second iron grating, which 
crossed the staircase, and, having passed the 
dreaded chamber, was hastening on, when a 
slight gleam of light from above made me 
raise my head, and I saw at the next turn 
