,--and
occasionally, from our ignorance of its tendency and object.

I feel I have been a lame expositor of my friend's theory. I have
omitted many of his proofs--some of them the best and strongest. I
have, besides, not adverted to objections which he foresaw and refuted.
Indeed, I fell into the digression without even knowing it, and I leave
it here in the same fashion. I fancy a kind of comfort in the notion
that my malady is, at least, an attempt at restoration. The idea of
decay--of declining slowly away, leaf by leaf, branch by branch--is very
sad; and even this "conceit" is not without its consolation.

And now to wander homewards. How houseless the man is who calls his inn
his home! It was all very well for "Sir John" to say, "I like to take
mine ease in mine inn;" and in his day the thing was practicable. The
little parlour, with its wainscot of walnut-wood and its bright tiles,
all shining in the tempered light through the diamond-paned window; the
neatly spread table, where smoked the pasty of high-seasoned venison,
beside the tall cup of sack or canary; and the buxom landlady herself,
redolent of health, good spirits, and broad jest;--these were all
accessories to that abandonment to repose and quiet so delightful to the
weary-minded. But think of some "Cour de Russie," some "Angelo d' Oro,"
or some "Schwarzen Adler," all alive with dusty arrivals and frogged
couriers--the very hall a fair, with fifty bells, all ringing; postboys
blowing--whips cracking--champagne corks flying--and a Bable of every
tongue in Europe, making a thorough-bass din that would sour a saint's
temper!...

I'll leave at once--I'll find some quiet little gasthaus in the Tyrol
for a few weeks, till the weather moderates, and it becomes cool enough
to cross the Alps--and die!

CHAPTER IX.

These watering-place doctors have less tact than their _confreres_
elsewhere: their theory is, "the Wells and Amusement;" they never
strain their faculties to comprehend any class but that of hard-worked,
exhausted, men of the world, to whom the regularity of a Bad-ort, and
the simple pleasures it affords, are quite sufficient to relieve the
load of over-taxed minds and bodies. The "distractions" of these places
suit such people well; the freedom of intercourse, which even among our
strait-laced countrymen prevails, is pleasant. My Lord refreshes in
the society of a clever barrister, or an amusing essayist of the
"Quarterly." The latter put