In a short time there was such a perceptible change in Susan that anyone not in the habit of seeing her frequently would have noticed it at once; and soon she was altogether different from what she had been. Her eyes began to have some expression in them; how different they looked from their former dull appearance; and she would now look anyone in the face instead of hanging down her head as she formerly did. Dr Jolly was one of the first to perceive the alteration, and complimented Miss Kingscott on the change one day. "Bless my soul, ma'am! why, nobody would recognise her again. It's positively wonderful. By Gad! madam, you deserve a medal for it. I would not have believed such a change could have taken place unless I had seen it myself." Whereupon Miss Kingscott half declined the credit of the cure, but in such a way as to make the doctor repeat his compliments. "Bless my soul, ma'am! it's no use telling me that, I know better. It's wonderful, and you deserve every credit--yes, ma'am, by Gad! ma'am, you do. Good-bye, Miss Kingscott; I shall call soon again to see your patient, for she is yours now, you know, ma'am. Go-o-od-morning." And the doctor took himself off, with an elaborate farewell adieu. He would have kissed his hand, it is believed, only that the old dowager was standing looking out at the window, and might have called him an old fool as likely as not. Volume 1, Chapter VIII. DAMON AND PYTHIAS. He is not a very romantic Damon is Doctor Jolly, nor is he at the present time to be seen under favourable circumstances, or in the most picturesque of situations. The fact is, Dr Jolly has got an attack of the gout, "his old friend," as he calls that hereditary and choleric disease; and here he is, seated in his snug parlour--he knew how to live well and be comfortable did the doctor--with his feet in a pail of cold water, like Patience on a monument smiling at grief; (one can't help quoting the "noble bard.") He was pursuing a rather violent method for reducing the inflammation in his pedal extremities in order that he might be able to go out and pay his usual pharmaceutical round of visits, and he was writhing and swearing inwardly, most probably, and often aloud, from the pain of the gout and remedy combined. "Bless my soul! Deb!" he exclaimed, as irascibly as his natural good temper would allow, to his sister Deborah, our Pythias, who was in the room along with him. "Bless my soul! Whew I what a twinge. Confound the gout, Deborah!" "Confound it with all my heart, Richard, if it will do you any good," she replied, calmly, drawing the thread through the heel of a stocking which she was darning; "but you know, Richard, it's your own fault. You _will_ drink that port wine, and you must take the consequences." "Bosh, Deb; don't preach. Why, I only drank two glasses yesterday at lunch, and--" "How about the bottle after dinner?"