cerebral membrane in a state of acute irritation,--probably just in
the region of his acquisitiveness and ideality. No, Mr. Caxton, you
will stay at home and take a soothing preparation I shall send you, of
lettuce-leaves and marshmallows. But I," continued Squills, lighting his
cigar and taking two determined whiffs,--"but I will go up to town and
settle the business for you, and take with me this young gentleman,
whose digestive functions are just in a state to deal safely with those
horrible elements of dyspepsia,--the L. S. D."

As he spoke, Mr. Squills set his foot significantly upon mine.

"But," resumed my father, mildly, "though I thank you very much,
Squills, for your kind offer, I do not recognize the necessity of
accepting it. I am not so bad a philosopher as you seem to imagine; and
the blow I have received has not so deranged my physical organization as
to render me unfit to transact my affairs."

"Hum!" grunted Squills, starting up and seizing my father's pulse;
"ninety-six,--ninety-six if a beat! And the tongue, sir!"

"Pshaw!" quoth my father; "you have not even seen my tongue!"

"No need of that; I know what it is by the state of the eyelids,--tip
scarlet, sides rough as a nutmeg-grater!"

"Pshaw!" again said my father, this time impatiently.

"Well," said Squills, solemnly, "it is my duty to say," (here my mother
entered, to tell me that supper was ready), "and I say it to you, Mrs.
Caxton, and to you, Mr. Pisistratus Caxton, as the parties most nearly
interested, that if you, sir, go to London upon this matter, I'll not
answer for the consequences."

"Oh! Austin, Austin," cried my mother, running up and throwing her
arms round my father's neck; while I, little less alarmed by Squills's
serious tone and aspect, represented strongly the inutility of Mr.
Caxton's personal interference at the present moment. All he could do
on arriving in town would be to put the matter into the hands of a good
lawyer, and that we could do for him; it would be time enough to
send for him when the extent of the mischief done was more clearly
ascertained. Meanwhile Squills griped my father's pulse, and my mother
hung on his neck.

"Ninety-six--ninety-seven!" groaned Squills in a hollow voice.

"I don't believe it!" cried my father, almost in a passion,--"never
better nor cooler in my life."

"And the tongue--Look at his tongue, Mrs. Caxton,--a tongue, ma'am, so
bright that you could see to read by it!"

"Oh! A