diapason music from the stertorous parent.
He was attached—deeply, desperately,
suicidically, to Emilia Matilda MiIdboy. He had
known and loved her long: two months and
six days.

But when did true love ever run smoothly
over the stones? Alfred Hoblush could,
alas! speak to the ill-paving of that highway;
and the youth, now drawing close,
proceeded to pour out his whole soul.
Confidentially, then, I was to see the obese person
who was so given up to sleep in the corner,
was the governor or parent of the youth;
and that relation was the chief macadamitic
obstacle which so impeded the pleasant
progress of the lovers. Emilia Matilda Mildboy
was, unhappily, penniless: a second
terrible paving-stone, while Augustus was
heir to an opulent and retired merchant,
possessed of fabulous moneys; not in the
funds, but lent on substantial mortgages to
noble persons. Who have not heard of Twist,
Whelpers, and Company?

Twist, the elder, was on the right, sound
asleep, and his dreams were as likely to be on
that one subject of mating his Augustus with
some noble family with whom his moneys lay
out on mortgage. There was even talk of
using a round little instrument (known as a
shilling) for cutting "off" the youth, should
he prove disinclined to follow out these
views. Twist, senior, was to be kept dark in
the matter of Emilia Matilda.

That was her hair; beautiful, soft, wavy.
That was her writing; delicate, airy, that
might have been traced by the antennæ of a
female fly. Gently, and with the manner of a
parent, I warned the youth. I recounted my
own sufferings, and bade him be wary.

On the deck of the packet I spoke with Mr.
Twist, senior. He was affable, but taciturn;
always looking at things in a pecuniary
view. He, perhaps, held to that pleasant
conceit of Lord Bacon, that silence is golden,
and was therefore to be esteemed a better
article than speech, which the same authority
in his curious dialect merely calls silvern.
We were soon on a familiar and agreeable
footing. In his care, too, some of the
exquisite machinery of the human frame had
got astray—some valve or cog-wheel. I saw
him look at me with a growing interest as I
detailed symptoms nearly corresponding to
his own. It came out presently that he, too,
had been with Socrates Pillson, F.R.S., had
been recommended his book, a Canter round
the Chalybeates. I had been told to drink
copiously at Sulphur-les-Bains. With glistening
eyes the aged invalid heard the strange
coincidence; and, from that moment, I could
see began to look on me with affection.

I could have listened long to his diverting
sallies, chiefly relating to Therapeutics, only
a strange expression of agony in my
countenance warned him to desist. I had to
retire below, precipitately, and was seen no
more.

At Sulphur-les-Bains we both went to the
hostelry which is under the sign of the
Great King. I knew not to what royalty, living
or dead, there was made covert allusion. It
was sufficient that he kept an excellent table
and entertained persons of the highest
quality. With the blight aspect of the place,
the spirits of the bamboozled clerk began to
revive sensibly, to be damped only as quickly
when on going forth into the public thoroughfares
and gardens, he found them flooded with
the fairest of his own countrywomen.
Where'er he went, whatever realms he saw,
he was met by sisters—sisters always in pairs
—sisters in a sort of uniform, of hat and
feather and light cloak, tripping it along;
they were to be found on the steep but well
shaded, acclivity that overhangs the city; or
else bestowed in a secluded corner of the
house, called Cure Hall, each fitted with a
neat French Novelette—these sisters!

He was tempted to fly again; but, instead,
fortified himself with the strong defences of a
misogynist: would become a hater of the
sex, hats and all: would scowl on them
defiantly when meeting them, and would
always speak in a manner modelled on that
of the late Samuel Johnson, LL.D. In what
order the gruff surly treatment of that great
good man, kept the race of Thrales and other
ladies, the world well knows.

As a preliminary, I went straight to Doctor
Katzer the well-known physician of the
place, who had written an analysis of the
waters, which proved their efficacy for every
complaint the human family is liable to. When
therefore I stated my peculiar symptoms to
Doctor Katzer, he found matters so much
disorganised, as to affirm that the Reverend
Alfred Hoblush was in a really critical way,
and that the delay of a single day more
would have been fatal. In the springs lay the
only hope. "You will drink," said skilful
Katzer, "one tumbler in the morning, then
walk for ten minutes,—then another tumbler;
then walk for ten minutes more. A third, a
fourth, and a fifth tumbler will greatly conduce
to the toning of your shattered constitution.
Periodically, in the course of the day
when passing carelessly, you will turn aside
and drink. You will get to love it. Five
francs, if you please. I will call on you every
day during your stay in our little town. Good
morning!"

Early next morning, when the sun was
shining, and there was a little breath of frost
abroad (for it was late in the season) I went
forth to imbibe the first virgin draught. I
had invested moneys in a beautiful crimson,
goblet, with all the places of interest engraved
round the sides; and, with a sort of nervous
feeling at my heart, drew near to where the
healthful waters gushed forth. Crowds were
gathered about the two young persons who
were busy dispensing the unpalatable drink.
There was musical clinking of melodious
glass goblets, and chattering of tongues. I