r; "Ah! dear God!
nothing can be done with him, he will remain a boaster his life long."

"Wait until he comes a little to years," said Vila, "his petulance will
then pass away."

"Ah good heaven!" exclaimed she, "he is already past fifty; it does not
depend upon that, God has permitted him to arrive at years of
discretion, youth no longer oppresses him, but he is past all hope of
amendment."

"Is he idle then? or does he squander your substance?"

"No," continued she quickly, "that must not be said against him, he
spends nothing on himself, scarcely will he allow himself the extreme
necessaries, and as to running about, working and lending a hand, he is
not remiss, but he lays by no store. Indeed times are no longer as they
were formerly."

"You get no profit then?"

"Just so, most respected doctor. Look you, here among us in the
country, my old husband is called nothing, far and wide, but the clever
man. Where an animal is sick, where a man is infirm, there is he
called, and it must be true, that heaven has placed a very peculiar
blessing in his hands, for almost whatever he merely touches becomes
better. Where his misicaments, or his proscriptions fail, he is then
compelled to have recourse to symphonies, or what you call the
sympathretical system, and that is always among the peasantry most
liked and most fructifying."

"You have then learned something from him," observed Vila.

"Should not something have devolved to me in so many years?" replied
she modestly. "But if he would only not do so much without
remuneration, all would be well and good. Look you, instead of planting
cabbage, our little garden is full of learned rampons, and horse radish
and onions with Latin names, which he then mingles or distils, as he
calls it, and economises powders and opiates out of them that cannot be
equalled. But they know already throughout the whole neighbourhood that
he is a fool, for they frequently knock him up at midnight and summon
him to a sick child, or to a tom-cat or taby-cat that has eaten or
drank too much. And when they are to pay, the service is forgotten and
there is no money in the coffers. 'They are poor people,' says the
good-for-nothing fellow, 'they have already misery enough; and God be
praised, we have never yet been in want of bread.'

"Thus was he ever," remarked Vila. "I thought he would become more
reasonable, and learn to think a little of himself. He was always too
devout."

"Devout!" excl