from head to
foot, and then exclaims, in a tone of utter astonishment, "What!! _you_
here!!" as if the new arrival were either an intruder or a lunatic. The
person thus addressed immediately retorts in an injured tone, "Well,
what on earth are you here for?" and then he adds maliciously, "there
doesn't seem to be much the matter with _you_." Now to say this is to
utter your deliberate opinion that the person you are addressing is at
Royat (or any other Salubrity Abroad wherever it may be) under the false
pretence of being an invalid, and is therefore, to put it plainly, a
shammer, an impostor.

* * *

After this greeting, explanations follow. The first man has to prove his
right to be at Royat, and the second man has to admit the evidence to be
incontestable, on the condition, implied but not expressed, of his own
case being taken as thoroughly warranting his taking the baths and
_traitement_ generally at Royat.

* * *

Then comes the question of Doctors. "Who shall decide when Doctors
disagree?"--but who shall decide when patients disagree about Doctors?
"Whom do you go to?" asks the suffering SMITH of the invalid Brown.
"Well," says BROWN, apologetically,--because he is not sure, this being
his first visit, that he might not have gone to a better man, "I go to
Dr. CHOSE," and noticing the astonishment depicted on his friend's face,
he hastens to explain, "SQUILLS sent me to him." The suffering SMITH
professes himself puzzled to know why on earth SQUILLS always sends his
patients to CHOSE. "Dr. REM'S the man for you, my boy," says SMITH. But
BROWN feels that he is in the toils of SQUILLS, and that it would not be
fair to him or to CHOSE, if he suddenly left the latter and sought the
advice of Dr. REM, on the sole recommendation of SMITH who, after all,
is not a professional.

* * *

Then two _habitues_ meet. "I always go to CHOSE," says eczematic JONES,
dogmatically, "first-rate fellow, CHOSE. All the French go to him.
_They_ know." "Ah!" returns gouty ROBINSON, with conviction, "I never
have been to anyone but REM. He's the chap. All the English go to him.
Best man in Royat." And if it weren't the hour for one of them to go and
drink Eugenie water, and for the other to take his second glass of St.
Mart, they would have a row and come to blows.

* * *

PULLER tells me that there's one London Doctor, describing himself as a
Gynaecologist ("A guinea-cologist," parenthetically remark