Methinks that ever and anon I hear the courteous reader exclaiming, “But, my dear Mrs. Sk--n--st--n, this really has nothing at all to do with the subject of your story.” You are right, courteous reader, no more it has; but the truth is, I feel slightly indisposed this morning; in fact, I may say I have not felt myself for this last day or two--I think it is nothing more than a slight attack of the bile after all, and my fair readers will, I’m sure, agree with me, that when one is bilious, there is nothing does one so much good as to be able to speak one’s mind, without any restraint or the fear of ever being taken to task for it. So, as there is no earthly chance of Mr. Sk--n--st--n’s ever meeting with these few candid remarks, why I’m only too glad to have the opportunity of letting my lady readers know what I really think of my pretty gentleman. However, I will try and rally myself, and coax my wandering thoughts back to my subject, though I’m afraid it will be a difficult task for me to accomplish in my present state of feeling, for I’ve a number of little white stars floating about before my eyes, and my right temple is throbbing and aching as if some imp, out of mere mischief, was thumping away at it with a sledge hammer, and I have a shooting pain just between my shoulders as though some one had got a penknife and was digging it into me every other moment. Our medical adviser says I have gone out and caught that nasty influenza which has been flying about our neighbourhood of late; but don’t tell me! I know it’s nothing of the kind, and only my old friend the bile that’s come back again to worry my very life out, and it’s my firm opinion that our medical adviser knows nothing at all about it.