But diligent and industrious as the new man may be, he is mortal after all, and being mortal, is not proof against temptation—­at least, after five or six weeks of his pupilage have passed.  The good St. Anthony resisted all the endeavours of the Evil One to lure him from the proper path, until the gentleman of the discoloured cutis vera assumed the shape of a woman.  The new man firmly withstands all inducements to irregularity until his first temptation appears in the form of the Cyder-cellars—­the convivial Rubicon which it is absolutely necessary for him to pass before he can enrol himself as a member of the quiet, hard-working, modest fraternity of the Medical Student of our London Hospitals.

Facilis descensus Averni.—­The steps that lead from Maiden-lane to the Cyder-cellars are easy of descent, although the return is sometimes attended with slight difficulty.  Not that we wish to compare our favourite souterrain in question to the “Avernus” of the Latin poet; oh, no!  If AEneas had met with roast potatoes and stout during his celebrated voyage across the Styx to the infernal regions, and listened to songs and glees in place of the multitude of condemned souls, “horrendum stridens,” we wager that he would have been in no very great hurry to return.  But we have arrived at an important point in our physiology—­the first launch of the new man into the ocean of his London life, and we pause upon its shore.  He has but definite ideas of three public establishments at all intimately connected with his professional career—­the Hall, the College, and the Cyder-cellars.  There are but three individuals to whom he looks with feelings of deference—­Mr. Sayer of Blackfriars, Mr. Belfour of Lincoln’s-inn-fields, and Mr. Rhodes of Maiden-lane.  These are the impersonation of the Fates—­the arbitrators of his destinies.

As it is customary that an attendance in the Theatre of Lectures should precede the student’s determination to “have a shy at the College,” or “go up to the Hall,” so is it usual for a visit to one of the theatres to be paid before going down to the Cyder-cellars.  The new man has been beguiled into the excursion by the exciting narratives of his companions, and beginning to feel that he is behind the other “chaps” (a new man’s term) in knowledge of the world, he yields to the attraction held out; not because he at first thinks it will give him pleasure so to do, as because it will put him on a level with those who have been, on the same principle as our rambling compatriots go to Switzerland and the Rhine.  His Mentor is ready in the shape of a third-season man, and under his protecting influence he sallies forth.