re. The Bible tells us of the lilies of the field, how they toil
not, neither do they spin, and yet our Heavenly Father feeds them. And
if God feeds them, they are alive, and yet they do not work. And when I
have that confounded gout, and can do nothing--absolutely nothing,
except flap the beastly flies away from my face--can I be said to work?
And yet I am alive, and suffer horrible torture into the bargain."
Gradually this torture grew so unbearable that uncle Braesig had to
submit to treatment at a watering place.]

Spring was gone, and summer had come, when one Sunday morning Hawermann
received a letter from Braesig dated from Warnitz, in which his friend
requested him to remain at home that day, for he had returned and
intended to call on him that afternoon. When Braesig arrived, he sprang
from his saddle with so much force that one might have thought he wanted
to go through the road with both legs. "Oho!" cried Hawermann, "how
brisk you are! You're all right now, ar'n't you?" "As right as a
trivet, Charles. I've renewed my youth." "Well, how have you been
getting on, old boy?" asked Hawermann, when they were seated on the
sofa and their pipes were lighted. "Listen, Charles. Cold, damp, watery,
clammy-that's about what it comes to. It's just turning a human being
into a frog, and before a man's nature is so changed, he has such a hard
time of it that he begins to wish that he had come into the world a
frog: still, it isn't a bad thing! You begin the day with the common
packing, as they call it. They wrap you up in cold, damp sheets, and
then in woollen blankets, in which they fasten you up so tight that you
can't move any part of your body except your toes. In this condition
they take you to a bath-room, and a man goes before you ringing a bell
to warn the ladies to keep out of your way. Then they place you, just as
God made you, in a bath, and dash three pails of water over your bald
head, if you happen to have one, and after that they allow you to go
away. Well, do you think that that's the end of it? Nay, Charles,
there's more to follow; but it's a good thing all the same. Now you've
got to go for a walk in a place where you've nothing earthly to do. I've
been accustomed all my life to walk a great deal, but then it was doing
something, ploughing or harrowing, spreading manure or cutting corn, and
there I'd no occupation whatever. While walking you are expected to
drink ever so many tumblers of water, ever so man