instincts for protection, for her mother was soon jealous of the attractions of her daughter, and removed her to a distance; but the real innocence of her heart, and a true attachment to a young ship’s surgeon, seem to have supplied the place of her natural protectors. But true to her Parisian blood, she has coquetted from first to last, and she never talks to me now but I find it playing in every dimple. Think of it! she was given me as my ‘Chief of Theory’! Now she asks me in the sweetest manner if I will come sometimes to her lessons, and explain to the girls what she does not understand. Poor child! I willingly oblige her. But I must not weary you with my portrait gallery, my walls are covered with curious figures; let me sketch for you our ‘vaccinations,’ which take place every Tuesday at one o’clock. The numbers of the babies are distributed beforehand amongst the _élèves_ who are to perform the operations; thus, 25 Ste. Marie to one, 32 Ste. Marthe to another, and so on. The _élèves_ seek their babies and bring them into the Hall of the Nurses, a large upper room, full already of women and babies. A space is cleared by one of the windows, chairs placed; in the centre sits M. Blot, the director of the operation; I occupy a chair beside him. Mademoiselle, who superintends another division, stands beside, and then baby after baby is subjected to the awkward manœuvres of the _élèves_, to their utmost dissatisfaction. The babies are very ugly in their coarse hospital swaddling clothes; I never saw the little beings so enveloped before. They are just like mummies, but they perform a terrible concert altogether, with the voices of the _élèves_ to help them. I sit a quiet spectator of the operation, occasionally addressing a question to M. Blot as he touches knife after knife on the arm of the infant before him; which question seems rather to embarrass the handsome _interne_, for he colours, or passes his hand through his hair and looks intently at the baby, in a very un-Frenchmanlike manner. I think he must be very _young_, or very much in awe of me, for he never ventures to give me a direct look, and seems so troubled when I address him that I very rarely disturb his life in that way. I think I have given you enough of my external hospital life to enable you to picture me somewhat in my surroundings; do you want to know how the spirit feels in its curious home? Then know, dear friends, that it is strong and hopeful, that it has moments of weariness, of intense yearning for its true related life, but that it lives ever in the great presence of the Eternal, and feels the angels always near.