sals, consisting of the various mineral waters of Germany and
the poisonous metals of modern pharmacy; and having established the fact
that 'bitter wasser' and 'Carlsbad,' the 'Powon* and 'Pilnitz,' combined
with blue-pill, were the natural enemies of all things eatable, he
swallowed these freely, and then left the matter to the rebellious
ingredients--pretty much as the English used to govern Ireland in times
gone by: set both parties by the ears, and wait the result in peace,
well aware that a slight derangement of the balance, from time to time,
would keep the contest in motion. Such was the state policy of Mr.
Cater, and I can only say that _his_ constitution survived it, though
that of Ireland seems to suffer grievously from the experiment.

This lively gentleman was then my companion; indeed, with that cohesive
property of your true bore, he was ever beside me, relating some little
interesting anecdote of a jaundice or a dropsy, a tertian or a typhus,
by which agreeable souvenirs he preserved the memory of Athens or
Naples, Rome or Dresden, fresh and unclouded in his mind. Not satisfied,
however, with narration, like all enthusiasts he would be proselytising;
and whether from the force of his arguments or the weakness of my
nature, he found a ready victim in me, insomuch that under his admirable
instruction I was already beginning to feel a dislike and disgust to
all things edible, with an appetite only grown more ravenous, while my
reverence for all springs of unsavoury taste and smell--once, I must
confess, at a deplorably low ebb--was gradually becoming more developed.
It was only by the accidental discovery that my waistcoat could be made
to fit by putting it twice round me, and that my coat was a dependency
of which I was scarcely the nucleus, that I really became frightened.
'What!' thought I, 'can this be that Arthur O'Leary whom men jested on
his rotundity? Is this me, around whom children ran, as they would
about a pillar or a monument, and thought it exercise to circumambulate?
Arthur, this will be the death of thee; thou wert a happy man and a fat
before thou knewest Kochbrunnens and thermometers; run while it is yet
time, and be thankful at least that thou art in racing condition.'

With noiseless step and cautious gesture, I crept downstairs one morning
at daybreak. My enemy was still asleep. I heard him muttering as I
passed his door; doubtless he was dreaming of some new combination of
horrors, some