"Yes," said I. "And a very painful pain in my side--and I am not putting on any side in my pain either," I added. "No doubt," said AEsculapius. "But are you sure it is in your side, or isn't it your chest that aches a trifle, eh?" "Not much," said I, growing doubtful on the subject. "Still it aches," said he. "Yes," I answered, the pain in my side weakening in favor of one in my chest. "It does." And it really did, like the deuce. "Now about that pain in your chest," said AEsculapius. "Isn't it rather higher up--in your throat, instead of your chest?" My throat began to hurt, and abominably. Every particle of it throbbed with pain, and my chest was immediately relieved. "I think," said I, weakly, "that the pain _is_ rather in my throat than in my chest." "But your side doesn't ache at all?" suggested AEsculapius. I had forgotten my side altogether. "Not a bit," said I; and it didn't. "So far, so good," said the doctor. "Now, my friend, about this throat trouble of yours. Do you think you have diphtheria, or merely toothache?" I hadn't thought of toothache before, but as soon as the doctor mentioned it, a pang went through my lower jaw, and my larynx seemed all right again. "Well, doctor," said I, "as a matter of fact, the pain does seem to be in my wisdom teeth." "So-called," said he, quietly. "More tooth than wisdom, generally. And not in your throat?" continued the doctor. [Illustration: I VISIT AESCULAPIUS] "Not a bit of it," said I. My throat seemed strong enough for a political campaign in which I was principal speaker. "It's _all_ in my teeth." "Upper or lower?" he asked, with a laugh, and then he gazed fixedly at me. I had not realized that I had upper teeth until he spoke, and a shudder went through me as a semicircle of pain shot through my upper jaw. "Upper," I retorted, with some surliness. "Verging a trifle on your cheekbones, and thence to the optic nerve," he said, calmly, still gazing into my soul. "I'll try your sight. Look at that card over there, and tell me--" "What nonsense is this, doctor?" I cried, angry at his airy manner and manifest control over my symptoms. "There is nothing the matter with my eyes. They're as good as any one of the million eyes of your friend the Argus." "Then what, in the name of Jupiter, is the matter with you?" he ejaculated, elevating his eyebrows. "Nothing at all," said I, sulkily. AEsculapius threw himself on the sofa and roared with laughter. "Perfectly splendid!" he said, when he had recovered from his mirth. "Perfectly splendid! You are the best example of the value of my system I've had in a long time. Now let me show you something," he added. "Put these glasses on." He took the glasses from his nose and put them astride of mine, and lead me before a mirror--a cheval-glass arrangement that stood in one corner of the room. "Now look yourself straight in the eye," said he.