enounce allegiance to all
three of the Political Parties in the U. S. A. and grow one of those
U-Shaped Mustaches.

Next Morning, like as not, he would emerge from beneath the Feather
Tick and lean against the Porcelain Stove, wondering vaguely if he
could live through the Day.

The very Treatment which developed large and coarse-grained Soldiers
all through Schleswig-Holstein seemed to make this Son of Connecticut
just about as gimpy as a wet Towel.

Undismayed by repeated Failures, he took some Advice, given in a
Rathskeller, and went to a Mountain Resort famous for a certain brand
of White Vinegar with a colored Landscape on the Label.

It was said that anyone becoming thoroughly acidulated with this noble
Beverage would put a Feather into his Granulated Lid and begin to
Yodel.

He sat among the snowy Peaks, entirely surrounded by the rarefied
Atmosphere so highly boosted in the Hotel Circulars, sampling a tall
bottle of every kind ending with "heimer," and yet he didn't seem to
get the Results.

At last he headed for the barbaric Region which an unkindly Fate had
designated as Home, almost convinced that there was no Climate on the
Map which would really adapt itself to all the intricate Peculiarities
of his complicated Case.

Often he would be found in the Reception Room just next to the shake-
down Parlor.

After reading a few pages in a popular Magazine dated two Years back,
he would be admitted to the little inside Room, faintly perfumed with
something other than New Mown Hay. Here he would cower before the
dollar-a-minute Specialist, who would apply a Dictograph to the Heart
Region and then say "You are all Run Down."

Next day the Sufferer would collect his folding Trunks and Head-Ache
Tablets and Hot-Water Bags and start for Florida or California or the
Piney Woods.

Sometimes he would seem to perk up for a Day or two. Enlivened by Hope
and a few Dry Martinis, he would move up to a little Table in the shade
of the sheltering Candelabrum and tackle the Carte du Jour from Caviar
to Cafe Noir.

The Climate would seem to be helping his Appetite.

Within 24 Hours, however, he would be craving only some cold Carbonic
and a few Kind Words.

Florida seemed to enervate him. California was too unsettled. Even in
the Mountains, his Heart always bothered him after a Hearty Meal. And
the Piney Woods only made him Pine more than ever.

Time and again he would curl up in the palatial Drawing-Room at