Around the walls
stood several oaken bookcases, the lower shelves of which were
filled with rows of gigantic folios and black-letter quartos, and
the upper with little parchment-covered duodecimos. Over the central
bookcase was a bronze bust of Hippocrates, with which, according to
some authorities, Dr. Heidegger was accustomed to hold consultations
in all difficult cases of his practice. In the obscurest corner of the
room stood a tall and narrow oaken closet, with its door ajar,
within which doubtfully appeared a skeleton. Between two of the
bookcases hung a looking-glass, presenting its high and dusty plate
within a tarnished gilt frame. Among many wonderful stories related of
this mirror, it was fabled that the spirits of all the doctor's
deceased patients dwelt within its verge, and would stare him in the
face whenever he looked thitherward. The opposite side of the
chamber was ornamented with the full-length portrait of a young
lady, arrayed in the faded magnificence of silk, satin, and brocade,
and with a visage as faded as her dress. Above half a century ago, Dr.
Heidegger had been on the point of marriage with this young lady; but,
being affected with some slight disorder, she had swallowed one of her
lover's prescriptions, and died on the bridal evening.
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