While I was dressing after my dip in this delectable soup, and carrying out the details of my theory, a series of heavy blows and unintelligible vociferations at the door, induced me to think that the hotel was on fire, or that the Kochbrunnen had exploded. I hastily drew the bolt, when in rushed the infuriated bath-master’s cad, with his Medusa-faced cadess, breathing forth all kinds of imprecations on my devoted head; and, from their gestures and actions, menacing me with a drowning instead of a plunging bath! I instantly threw myself into a posture of defence, determined, if I must drink the bear’s broth again, that the cad or his gentle mate should have the first gulp. On seeing this, they retreated a few feet but still kept up a roar of abuse, till I had finished dressing, when my friend Cooper joined in the affray. The assailants followed us, till I had nearly got to the bad-master’s office, where, opening one of Dr. Granville’s volumes, which I had under my arm, I pointed out the notice (not too favourable) which had been already taken of the Adler, and told him that I, too, was a SPA-TOURIST, and would render his baths either famous or infamous, by the portrait which I should draw of them, as a warning to my countrymen. The bath-master was astonished, and not a little terrified. He immediately summoned his cad and cadess, informing them that the English gentleman was an AUTHOR, and threatened to publish in England an unfavourable account of the hotel and baths. The “_cream_” of the jest soon came out. It appeared that a dandy of sixty—a Cupid of the grand climacteric, had occupied for the season the bath which I used, taking care that the water should be turned in over night, in order that the cream, or bear’s grease, should have time for concretion on the surface, and thus “smoothe the wrinkled brow,” as well as lubricate the unpliant joints, of this veteran Adonis. The denouement disarmed me of my wrath, especially when I recollected that, in this land of minute regulations, I ought not to have descended into a vacant bath, without the express sanction of the bad-master’s cad, in the subterranean regions. The hotel itself is a very excellent one, and its master, who speaks English, a very civil and obliging host. I recommend it to my countrymen, with this proviso, that they never go into a bath that has an unusual proportion of bear’s grease on the surface, without the cad’s permission, lest they spoil the watery mirroir of some antiquated Narcissus, who hopes—vain hope!—by means of baths and broths, to relume the lack-lustre eye—to efface the time-ploughed furrows from the faded cheek—to communicate elasticity to the indurated muscle—vital heat to the stagnant veins—activity to the body, and energy to the mind:—and all these, _after_ the allotted hours of human existence have danced their giddy rounds[18]—after the cup of enjoyment has over-flowed, times without number, and is now drained to the dregs—_after_,