how
it is, friend. You have been reading some silly book about the disease,
and have frightened yourself into the belief that you have some of its
symptoms. I hope you haven't been doctoring yourself, likewise. What
have you taken?"

"It would be difficult to say what he has _not_ taken," remarked
Leonard. "His stomach must be like an apothecary's shop."

"I have only used proper precautions," rejoined Blaize, testily.

"And what may those be--eh?" inquired the doctor. "I am curious to
learn."

"Come from behind Patience," cried Leonard, "and don't act the fool
longer, or I will see whether your disorder will not yield to a sound
application of the cudgel."

"Don't rate him thus, good Master Leonard," interposed Patience. "He is
very ill--he is, indeed."

"Then let him have a chance of getting better," returned the apprentice.
"If he _is_ ill, he has no business near you. Come from behind her,
Blaize, I say. Now speak," he added, as the porter crept tremblingly
forth, "and let us hear what nostrums you have swallowed. I know you
have dosed yourself with pills, electuaries, balsams, tinctures,
conserves, spirits, elixirs, decoctions, and every other remedy, real or
imaginary. What else have you done?"

"What Dr. Hodges, I am sure, will approve," replied Blaize, confidently.
"I have rubbed myself with vinegar, oil of sulphur, extract of tar, and
spirit of turpentine."

"What next?" demanded Hodges.

"I placed saltpetre, brimstone, amber, and juniper upon a chafing-dish
to fumigate my room," replied Blaize; "but the vapour was so
overpowering, I could not bear it."

"I should be surprised if you could," replied the doctor. "Indeed, it is
astonishing to me, if you have taken half the remedies Leonard says you
have, and which, taken in this way, are no remedies at all, since they
counteract each other--that you are still alive. But let us see what is
the matter with you. What ails you particularly?"

"Nothing," replied Blaize, trembling; "I am quite well."

"He complains of a fixed pain near de haard, docdor," interposed his
mother, "and says he has a large dumour on his side. But he wond let me
examine id."

"That's a bad sign," observed Hodges, shaking his head. "I am afraid
it's not all fancy, as I at first supposed. Have you felt sick of late,
young man?"

"Not of late," replied Blaize, becoming as white as ashes; "but I do
now."

"Another bad symptom," rejoined the doctor. "Take off your doublet and