"Karl, it is impossible to tell, in this confounded disease, whether it is the proper Podagra, or not. Really, it is all the same, so far as the torment is concerned; but in respect to the causes there is a great difference. You see, Karl, you get the Podagra by good eating and drinking, that is the proper kind; but if you get it only from these infamous, good-for-nothing, double-sewed wax-leather boots, that is the improper kind, and that is what I have." "Yes, why do you always wear the old things, then? "Karl, I used to wear them because of my relations with the count, and I cannot throw them away. But what I was going to ask--have you been at the Pastor's to-day?" "Yes." "Well, how is it there?" "Ah, it looks badly, the old Herr is very weak: when he came out of the pulpit the sweat ran down his cheeks, and it was a long time before he got rested, lying on his sofa." "Hm! hm!" said Bräsig, shaking his head, "I don't like that; but, Karl, he is getting into years." "That is true," said Habermann, thoughtfully. "How is your little girl?" asked Bräsig. "Thank you, Zachary, she is very well, thank God! She was here last week,--I had no time to spare, I must be out sowing peas, but the gracious lady had seen her, and kept her, and she stayed here until evening. "Karl!" cried Bräsig, springing up, and walking back and forth, and biting off in his excitement, the knob from the point of his pipe, "you may believe me or not,--your gracious lady is the chief production of the whole human race." Habermann rose also, and walked up and down, and every time that they met each other, they smoked more violently, and Bräsig asked, "Am I not right, Karl," and Habermann replied, "You are right, Zachary." And who knows how long they would have ruminated upon this topic, if a carriage had not driven up, from which Kurz and the rector descended. "Good day! good day!" cried Kurz, as he entered the room, "see there, see there, there is the Herr Inspector. Well, how goes it, old friend? Habermann, I came about that clover seed." "Good day," said Rector Baldrian, to Bräsig, drawing out the word "day," as if the day were to last forever, "how goes it with you, my honored friend?" "Very well," said Bräsig. "Habermann," exclaimed Kurz, "Isn't it so? Capital seed!" "Why, Kurz," said Habermann, "the seed wasn't quite ripe. I tried it on the hot shovel, and if it is the right kind, the kernels will spring up, like flies, from the shovel, but here many kernels lay still." "You don't look quite so blooming, my honored friend," said the rector to Bräsig, "as at the time when we drank punch together, at the betrothals." "There is reason for that," said Habermann, throwing his arm over Bräsig's shoulder, "my old friend has bad a touch of Podagra again." "Yes, yes," laughed the rector, growing quite merry: