–––not when there is a rough sea, but when all
is solemn and calm.

After a time, I left the church; and not
being inclined to return home, and finding
that all the music from the public-houses, and
all the eating, and the dancing, were very
inharmonious to my then state of mind, I
wandered on towards the plain, and feasted
my eyes on a view of the Alps, which to-day
seemed fairly to have stalked towards Munich,
so near did they seem,–––of a tender, quiet, blue-grey,
but their forms gigantic, stern, Alpine!

     A "CELESTIAL" COFFEE-HOUSE.

Another evening, after a day of real hard
work, when we were in a particularly cheerful
mood, I suggested to my companion that, as all
was so sunny and delicious, we would drink
our coffee in a picturesque old orchard, which
I had discovered in one of my exploratory
expeditions through the suburb of St. Anna.
It is a pretty walk this, through the suburb
to the coffee-house orchard, which joins the
English garden. You cross first the corner
of a very large field, acres and acres of which
are covered with huge heaps of timber–––
enormous pines, which have been floated down
from the Alps. The tall trees of the English
garden form a back-ground to the field; and
then passing orchards, and cottages, and
country houses, you arrive at the coffee-house,
a bright white house, with a deal of pale
sea-green paint about it, standing high, approached
by a flight of steps, and having a kind of a
Russian look. The orchard in which it stands,
is a grand old orchard, full of old apple-trees,
under which are some hundreds of seats. On
the former occasions when I passed it, there
must have been many hundred people drinking
coffee there. On this evening, however,
all was deserted,–––so much so, in fact, that
there was no coffee to be had. After resting,
therefore, a few minutes under an apple-tree,
we proceeded on our way, when, turning into
the English Garden, behold! another coffee-house,
a very small one peeping out from
under the trees. "Coffee and Wine-house of
the Kingdom of Heaven " (ZumHifnmel-nich)
was painted on an arched sign over the gate.
So extraordinary an appellation could not be
disregarded, however contrary to our English
notions.

"Let us try how coffee tastes in the Kingdom
of Heaven," said I; and in we went.

The Kingdom of Heaven, however, was also
apparently deserted, except by a pair of lovers,
–––a young girl in a white dress, and a student
in a scarlet cap and black velvet coat, and by
a picturesque group of old peasants, men and
women, who sat on a bench before the door,
and drank beer; the student also drank beer,
–––the girl took nothing; she sat with her
back turned towards him, and evidently looked
very unhappy. I think they had just had a
quarrel; what a shame to quarrel in the
Kingdom of Heaven! I went into the house,
and ordered coffee from a woman whom I met
with a huge coffee-mill in her hand. She said
it should be ready in a minute, capital fresh
coffee! So we seated ourselves at the end of
a long verandah, which was covered with
vines, at the end opposite to where the lovers
were, and noticed all around us, to occupy the
time till the coffee appeared. Coffee at length
made its appearance,–––vile coffee and peppery
bread; and leaving the lovers still unreconciled,
we bade adieu to the "Kingdom of
Heaven," and betook ourselves home in the
delicious twilight.

A GREAT DAY FOR THE DOCTORS.

THE first of October is a great day for
the doctors. The sportsman may look out for
the same time, because then pheasant shooting
begins; the farmer, because it suggests
certain arrangements between malt and hops
preliminary to Christmas and the comforts of
long winter nights; the lawyer may take
October the first as a hint of the gradual
death of the long vacation, and the near
advent of Term time and November the
second–––its writs and summonses, judgments
and executions; the draper may regard it
shrewdly, as affording a good time for a
"frightful sacrifice," and an "extensive sale
of autumn goods, preparatory to the
commencement of the winter season." Each and
all of these, and many more may have an
interest in the first of October; but their
claims are as nothing to that of the doctors.
To the medical folks of these three kingdoms
–––but to those of London more pre-eminently
–––does the day especially belong. To them, it
is the opening of a new year–––the commencement
of a new activity. On that day the great
majority of them commenced their career
as students: from that they date the years
of preliminary reading, and lecturing, and
hospital "walking," to be gone through
before the terrible day of examination.
Scattered over the globe they may be–––and they
are so scattered, much more than the men of
other professions, the Navy alone excepted–––
yet the first of October always remains a
sort of red-letter day in the mind of the
Medicos.

It is a time suggestive of old thoughts and
companions, old pranks, and old stories. Such
feelings bring most of those who are within
reach to the old scenes on the first of October;
and hence, on that day, there is at the London
medical schools an assemblage of doctors in
all stages of growth–––from the raw country
student in green coat and highlows, to the
staid hospital professor in black scholastic
gown, through all the intermediate niceties
of fast students and slow students, reading
students with specs and note-books, and
smoking-students with cigar-cases and
imperials; the matter-of-fact workeys of the
Borough, and the gentlemanly idlers of St.
George's; the country doctor up for the day
by rail; the suburban practitioner, who with