"Still, do you believe I never loved that darling girl?" he asked, almost in a rage. "If that man--that _fellow_--should die with the autumn leaves, I would at once marry Jenny, who loves me still," he exclaimed, pacing the room like an enraged lion. "He won't die, however. He looks healthy and robust, and will outlive you and your affection for his wife," I replied, with a derisive laugh. It rained the next afternoon, as we returned home by a shorter route than _via_ O. and B. George talked a great deal of Jenny on the way back, and said he never should get over this fearful disappointment. "Only think of the lovely Jenny Kingsbury marrying that fellow with the bundle and the stick! O, I shall be sick over it; I know I shall." "Especially if you take a bad cold riding in this storm," I added, by way of consolation. "However, you can take some of your mother's good thoroughwort--" "Confound the thoroughwort," he interrupted. * * * * * "Did you know that George is sick?" asked his little brother of me the following day. "No. Is he much sick?" I inquired, in alarm. "O, yes; he's awful sick--or was last night; and mother fooled him on a dose of fresh thererwort tea, which only made him sicker," replied the little chap, turning up his nose in disgust. "Is he better now?" I inquired. "O, yes; ever so much _now_. I don't know what ma called the disease he's got; but howsomever she said thererwort was good for it, and I guess it is, 'cause he's better." I was called away, and did not see my friend George till a week after our return from the little trip to B. He never mentioned Jenny afterwards, nor said a word about the thoroughwort tea. He took to horses after that, and eventually married a poor, unpretending girl, quite unlike the dark-eyed, beautiful, and wealthy Miss Jenny Kingsbury. Mrs. Brown still recommends her favorite panacea for all ails, physical or moral; but whenever she mentions it in George's presence, he exclaims, with a look of disgust,-- "O, confound the thoroughwort!" [Illustration] VI. QUACKS. "Verily, I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perked up in a glistening grief And wear a golden sorrow."--KING HENRY VIII. ANECDOTE IN ILLUSTRATION.--DERIVATION.--FATHER OF QUACKS.--A MEDICAL "BONFIRE."--THE "SAMSON" OF THE PROFESSION.--SIR ASTLEY.--U. S. SURVEYOR-GENERAL HAMMOND.--HOMEOPATHIC QUACKS, ETC.--A MUDDLED DEFINITION.--"STOP THIEF!"--CRIPPLED FOR LIFE!--TWO POUNDS CALOMEL.--VICTIMS.--WASHINGTON, JACKSON, HARRISON.--THE COUNTRY QUACK.--A TRUE AND LUDICROUS ANECDOTE.--DYEING TO DIE!--A SCARED DOCTOR.--DROPSY!--A HASTY WEDDING!--A COUNTRY CONSULTATION.--"SCENES FROM WESTERN PRACTICE."--"TWIST ROOT."--A JOLLY TRIO.--NEW "BUST" OF CUPID.--AN UNWILLING LISTENER.