A good-sized blister, made according to the United States Pharmacopoeia, has few equals as a means of concentrating the attention. When it takes a fair hold of its work it leaves the gentleman whom it patronizes little opportunity to think of anything else than it and what it is doing. Everything else is forgotten, taht it may receive full consideration. Then comes in an opportunity for a vigorous imagination. No one ever underestimates the work done by an active blister, if it is upon himself. No one ever grumbles that he is not getting his money's worth. It is the one monumental exception, where men are willing to accept and be satisfied with a fractional part of that which they have bought and paid for. So when the layer of fresh mustard that covered the whole anterior surface of Mr. Alspaugh's torso began to take a fair hold of its appointed work that gentlemen's thoughts became strangely focused upon it, and they succeeded each other as the minutes went by something in this fashion: FIRST TEN MINUTES.--“I 'spect that this may become rather unpleasant and bothersome, but it will not be for long, and it'll really do me much good.” SECOND TEN MINUTES.--“I had no idead that blisters felt just this way, but they never really hurt anybody but women and children--MEN laugh at them.” THIRD TEN MINUTES.--“The thing seems to be hunting 'round for my tender spots, and pokin' pins into 'em. I begin to wish that it was all over with.” FOURTH TEN MINUTES.--“It begins to hurt real bad. I wonder if it ain't a'most time to take it off?” FIFTH TEN MINUTES.--“The very devil seems to be in that thing. It burns like as if a sheet of red-hot iron was layin' there.” SIXTH TEN MINUTES.--“I surely believe that they've made a terrible mistake about that blister, and put in some awful thing that'll kill me if it ain't stopped. I'll swear it's not only eat all the skin off, but it's gone through my ribs, an' is gnawin' at my insides. Why don't the Doctor come 'round an' see to it? Here, nurse, call the Doctor, an' have this think taken off.” NURSE.--“No, it's all right. The Doctor left orders that it was not to be disturbed for some time yet. I'll see to it when the proper time comes. I'm watching the clock.” SEVENTH TEN MINUTES.--“Great Jehosefat! this's jest awful. That blasted stuff's cooked my innards to rags, an' I kin feel my backbone a-sizzlin'. Say, Steward, do, for the Lord's sake, come here, an' take this thing off, while there's a little life left in me.” STEWARD.--“Can't do anything yet. You must grin and bear it a little while longer.” EIGTH TEN MINUTES.--“Holy smoke! I couldn't suffer more if I was in the lake of burnin' brimstone. Every ounce of me's jest fryin'. Say, Steward! Steward!” STEWARD (ANGRILY).--“I have told you several times that I couldn't do anything for you yet awhile. Now keep quiet.” “But Steward, can't you at least bring me a fork?” “Why, what do you want a fork for?”