still no Boiviel.

It is scarcely necessary to say that the Abbe Boiviel never reappeared,
and that he was nothing better than a charlatan and a thief. But the
singular part of the matter is, that the Abbe de Voisenon found his
asthma considerably relieved after a course of the fluid gold composed
by Boiviel; and his sole regret at the end of his days was, not having
foreseen the death, or disappearance--a matter quite as disastrous--of
his alchemist, who could have furnished him with the means of
compounding the elixir for himself as it might be wanted.

In order to show himself superior to the assaults of his enemy, our Abbe
would often endeavor to persuade himself that he was every whit as
active as he had formerly been; more active even than he had been in
his youth. On these occasions he would jump up from his easy-chair,
where he had been sitting groaning under an attack of the asthma; he
would cast his pillows on one side, his night-cap on the other, would
pitch his slippers to the other end of the room, and call loudly for his
domestics. In one of these deceitful triumphs of his will over his
feeble constitution, he rang one cold winter's morning for his _valet de
chambre_.

"My thick cloth trousers!" cried he, "my thick cloth trousers!"

"Why, Monsieur l'Abbe," timidly objected his faithful servitor, "what
can you be thinking of? you were very bad yesterday evening."

"That's very probable; I have nothing to do with what I was yesterday
evening. My thick cloth trousers, I tell you--now, my furred waistcoat!
Come, look sharp!"

"But, Monsieur l'Abbe, why quit your warm room, your snug arm-chair? You
are so pale."

"Pale, am I! that's better than ever, for I have been as yellow as a
quince all my life! Good, I have my trousers and waistcoat; fetch me my
redingote!"

"Your redingote! that you only put on when you are going out?"

"And it is precisely because I am going out that I ask for it. You argue
to-day like a true stage valet. Why should I not put on my redingote?
Are you afraid of it becoming shabby? Do you wish to steal it from me
while it is new?"

"I am afraid that you will increase your cough if you don't keep the
house to-day. It is very cold this morning."

"Very cold, is it, eh? so much the better. I like cold weather."

"It snows even very much, Monsieur l'Abbe."

"In that case, my large Polish boots."

"Your large Polish boots! And for what purpose?"

"Not to write a poem in, pro