and then kept
putting the traveller in mind that his shattered frame, "starting and
shivering in the inconstant blast, meagre and pale--the ghost of what it
was"--wanted repairs. Three years elapsed after arriving in England
before the ague took its final leave of him.

During that time several experiments were made with the wourali-poison.
In London an ass was inoculated with it, and died in twelve minutes. The
poison was inserted into the leg of another, round which a bandage had
been previously tied a little above the place where the wourali was
introduced. He walked about as usual, and ate his food as though all
were right. After an hour had elapsed the bandage was untied, and ten
minutes after death overtook him.

A she-ass received the wourali-poison in the shoulder, and died
apparently in ten minutes. An incision was then made in its windpipe,
and through it the lungs were regularly inflated for two hours with a
pair of bellows. Suspended animation returned. The ass held up her
head, and looked around; but the inflating being discontinued, she sank
once more in apparent death. The artificial breathing was immediately
recommenced, and continued without intermission for two hours; this saved
the ass from final dissolution. She rose up, and walked about; she
seemed neither in agitation nor in pain. The wound, through which the
poison entered, was healed without difficulty. Her constitution,
however, was so severely affected that it was long a doubt if ever she
would be well again. She looked lean and sickly for above a year, but
began to mend the spring after, and by Midsummer became fat and frisky.

The kind-hearted reader will rejoice on learning that Earl Percy, pitying
her misfortunes, sent her down from London to Walton Hall, near
Wakefield. There she goes by the name of Wouralia. Wouralia shall be
sheltered from the wintry storm; and when summer comes she shall feed in
the finest pasture. No burden shall be placed upon her, and she shall
end her days in peace.

For three revolving autumns the ague-beaten wanderer never saw, without a
sigh, the swallow bend her flight towards warmer regions. He wished to
go too, but could not; for sickness had enfeebled him, and prudence
pointed out the folly of roving again too soon across the northern
tropic. To be sure, the Continent was now open, and change of air might
prove beneficial; but there was nothing very tempting in a trip across
the Channel,