le water, or--but there is no use hunting
conjecture, when you are all but certain of not catching it.

Mrs. Pilcher was "the moral of a nurse;" she was about forty-eight and
had, according to her own account, "been the mother of eighteen lovely
babes, born in wedlock," though her most intimate friends had never been
introduced to more than one young gentleman, with a nose like a wart, and
hair like a scrubbing-brush. When he made his _debut_, he was attired in a
suit of blue drugget, with the pewter order of the parish of St. Clement
on his bosom; and rumour declared that he owed his origin to half-a-crown
a week, paid every Saturday. Mrs. Pilcher weighed about thirteen stone,
including her bundle, and a pint medicine-bottle, which latter article she
invariably carried in her dexter pocket, filled with a strong tincture of
juniper berries, and extract of cloves. This mixture had been prescribed
to her for what she called a "sinkingness," which afflicted her about 10
A.M., 11 A.M. (dinner), 2 P.M., 3 P.M. 4 P.M. 5 P.M. (tea), 7 P.M., 8 P.M.
(supper), 10 P.M., and at uncertain intervals during the night.

Mrs. Pilcher was a martyr to a delicate appetite, for she could never
"make nothing of a breakfast if she warn't coaxed with a Yarmouth bloater,
a rasher of ham, or a little bit of steak done with the gravy in."

Her luncheon was obliged to be a mutton-chop, or a grilled bone, and a
pint of porter, bread and cheese having the effect of rendering her "as
cross as two sticks, and as sour as werjuice." Her dinner, and its
satellites, tea and supper, were all required to be hot, strong, and
comfortable. A peculiar hallucination under which she laboured is worthy
of remark. When eating, it was always her declared conviction that she
_never drank anything_, and when detected coquetting with a pint pot or a
tumbler, she was equally assured that she never _did eat anything after
her breakfast_.

Mrs. Pilcher's duties never permitted her to take anything resembling
continuous rest; she had therefore another prescription for an hour's doze
after dinner. Mrs. Pilcher was also troubled with a stiffness of the
knee-joints, which never allowed her to wait upon herself.

When this amiable creature had deposited herself in Collumpsion's old
easy-chair, and, with her bundle on her knees, gasped out her first
inquiry--

"I hopes all's as well as can be expected?"

The heart of _Pater_ Collumpsion trembled in his bosom, for he felt