There Is Nothing Like First-hand Evidence.

The Setting Is A Worthy One, If The Devil Did Desire To Have A Hand In The Affairs Of Men.

The Stage Lost A Fine Actor, Even As Science Lost An Acute Reasoner, When [holmes] Became A Specialist In Crime.

All Right, Watson. Don’t Look So Scared,” He Muttered In A Very Weak Voice. “it’s Not As Bad As It Seems.” “thank God For That!” “i’m A Bit Of A Single-stick Expert, As You Know. I Took Most Of Them On My Guard. It Was The Second Man That Was Too Much For Me.” “what Can I Do, Holmes? Of Course, It Was That Damned Fellow Who Set Them On. I’ll Go And Thrash The Hide Off Him If You Give The Word.” “good Old Watson!(...)

'men Die Of The Diseases Which They Have Studied Most,' Remarked The Surgeon, Snipping Off The End Of A Cigar With All His Professional Neatness And Finish. 'it's As If The Morbid Condition Was An Evil Creature Which, When It Found Itself Closely Hunted, Flew At The Throat Of Its Pursuer. If You Worry The Microbes Too Much They May Worry You. I've Seen Cases Of It, And Not Necessarily In Microbic Diseases Either. There Was, Of Course, The Well-known Instance Of Liston And The Aneurism; And A Dozen Others That I Could Mention.'

"i Have Seen Those Symptoms Before," Said Holmes, Throwing His Cigarette Into The Fire. "oscillation Upon The Pavement Always Means An Affaire De Coeur."