be Greek for "one measle;" but this would be
singular, very singular.

"I must tap you," continued the friend-in-need. "No--no--don't be
alarmed. When I say 'tap,' I mean _sound_ you."

Then he began the woodpecking business. In the character of Dr.
Woodpecker he tapped at the hollow oak chest, sounded the Baron's
heart of oak, pronounced him true to the core, whacked him, smacked
him, insisted upon his calling out "Ninety-nine," in various tones,
so that it sounded like a duet to the old words, without much of the
tune--

"I'm ninety-nine,
I'm ninety-nine!"

the remainder of which the Baron had never heard, even in his earliest
childhood.

So it was a quarter of an hour of inspiration, musical and poetic,
and, at its expiration, Dr. MARK TAPLEY, as the Baron declared he must
henceforth be called, announced that there was nothing for it but to
make the Baron a close prisoner in his own castle, where he would have
to live up to the mark, as if he were to be shown, a few months hence,
at a prize cattle-show, among other Barons of Beef.

"Champagne Charley is your name, so is Turtle soup, so is succulent
food, and plenty of it. Generally provision the fortress, and
withstand the assaults of the enemy. If a bacillus creeps in through a
loophole, knock him on the head with the best champagne at hand, and,
if you're not worse in a day or two, you'll be better in a week! _Au
revoir!_" _Exit_ Dr. MARK TAPLEY.

* * * * *

And so the Baron remained within, and sent for his books, and above
all _One of Our Conquerors_, by "The GEO. M.," who is the CARLYLE
of Novelists. The first volume was missing. In a few days it had
returned. The first chapters, however, seemed still wandering. But
the Baron was better, and could follow them slowly, though not without
effort, wondering whither he was being led. When he arrives at Chapter
VII., unless the novelist ceases to meander, the Baron will exclaim
with _Hamlet_, "Speak! I'll go no further!" Yet, 'tis marvellous
clever and entertaining withal.

* * * * *

Perhaps there will be a vacation after this attack of Miss Influenza
on the unfortunate Baron. Alas! for the present, it is _La Donna
Influenza_ who is "_One of Our Conquerors_!"

* * * * *

This morning, after a fortnight of it, the Baron was about to announce
that he was better, but at the outset he paused, corrected himse