Old St Paul's (Historical Novel). William Harrison Ainsworth

be difficult to say what he has not taken," remarked Leonard. "His stomach must be like an apothecary's shop."

      "I have only used proper precautions," rejoined Blaize, testily.

      "And what may those be—eh?" inquired the doctor. "I am curious to learn."

      "Come from behind Patience," cried Leonard, "and don't act the fool longer, or I will see whether your disorder will not yield to a sound application of the cudgel."

      "Don't rate him thus, good Master Leonard," interposed Patience. "He is very ill—he is, indeed."

      "Then let him have a chance of getting better," returned the apprentice. "If he is ill, he has no business near you. Come from behind her, Blaize, I say. Now speak," he added, as the porter crept tremblingly forth, "and let us hear what nostrums you have swallowed. I know you have dosed yourself with pills, electuaries, balsams, tinctures, conserves, spirits, elixirs, decoctions, and every other remedy, real or imaginary. What else have you done?"

      "What Dr. Hodges, I am sure, will approve," replied Blaize, confidently. "I have rubbed myself with vinegar, oil of sulphur, extract of tar, and spirit of turpentine."

      "What next?" demanded Hodges.

      "I placed saltpetre, brimstone, amber, and juniper upon a chafing-dish to fumigate my room," replied Blaize; "but the vapour was so overpowering, I could not bear it."

      "I should be surprised if you could," replied the doctor. "Indeed, it is astonishing to me, if you have taken half the remedies Leonard says you have, and which, taken in this way, are no remedies at all, since they counteract each other—that you are still alive. But let us see what is the matter with you. What ails you particularly?"

      "Nothing," replied Blaize, trembling; "I am quite well."

      "He complains of a fixed pain near de haard, docdor," interposed his mother, "and says he has a large dumour on his side. But he wond let me examine id."

      "That's a bad sign," observed Hodges, shaking his head. "I am afraid it's not all fancy, as I at first supposed. Have you felt sick of late, young man?"

      "Not of late," replied Blaize, becoming as white as ashes; "but I do now."

      "Another bad symptom," rejoined the doctor. "Take off your doublet and open your shirt."

      "Do as the doctor bids you," said Leonard, seeing that Blaize hesitated, "or I apply the cudgel."

      "Ah! bless my life! what's this?" cried Hodges, running his hand down the left side of the porter, and meeting with a large lump. "Can it be a carbuncle?"

      "Yes, it's a terrible carbuncle," replied Blaize; "but don't cauterize it, doctor."

      "Let me look at it," cried Hodges, "and I shall then know how to proceed."

      And as he spoke, he tore open the porter's shirt, and a silver ball, about as large as a pigeon's egg, fell to the ground. Leonard picked it up, and found it so hot that he could scarcely hold it.

      "Here is the terrible carbuncle," he cried, with a laugh, in which all the party, except Blaize, joined.

      "It's my pomander-box," said the latter. "I filled it with a mixture of citron-peel, angelica seed, zedoary, yellow saunders, aloes, benzoin, camphor, and gum-tragacanth, moistened with spirit of roses; and after placing it on the chafing-dish to heat it, hung it by a string round my neck, next my dried toad. I suppose, by some means or other, it dropped through my doublet, and found its way to my side. I felt a dreadful burning there, and that made me fancy I was attacked by the plague."

      "A very satisfactory solution of the mystery," replied the doctor, laughing; "and you may think yourself well off with the blister which your box has raised. It will be easier to bear than the cataplasm I should have given you, had your apprehensions been well founded. As yet, you are free from infection, young man; but if you persist in this silly and pernicious practice of quacking yourself, you will infallibly bring on some fatal disorder—perhaps the plague itself. If your mother has any regard for you she will put all your medicines out of your reach. There are few known remedies against this frightful disease; and what few there are, must be adopted cautiously. My own specific is sack."

      "Sack!" exclaimed Blaize, in astonishment. "Henceforth, I will drink nothing else. I like the remedy amazingly."

      "It must be taken in moderation," said the doctor: "otherwise it is as dangerous as too much physic."

      "I have a boddle or doo of de liquor you commend, docdor, in my private cupboard," observed Josyna. "Will you dasde id?"

      "With great pleasure," replied Hodges, "and a drop of it will do your son no harm."

      The wine was accordingly produced, and the doctor pronounced it excellent, desiring that a glass might always be brought him when he visited the grocer's house.

      "You may rely upon id, mynheer, as long as my small sdore lasds," replied Josyna.

      Blaize, who, in obedience to the doctor's commands, had drained a large glass of sack, felt so much inspirited by it, that he ventured, when his mother's back was turned, to steal a kiss from Patience, and to whisper in her ear, that if he escaped the plague, he would certainly marry her—an assurance that seemed to give her no slight satisfaction. His new-born courage, however, was in some degree damped by Leonard, who observed to him in an undertone:

      "You have neglected my injunctions, sirrah, and allowed the person I warned you of to enter the house. When a fitting season arrives, I will not fail to pay off old scores."

      Blaize would have remonstrated, and asked for some explanation, but the apprentice instantly left him, and set out upon his errand to the Examiner of Health. Accompanied by his mother, who would not even allow him to say good-night to Patience, the porter then proceeded to his own room, where the old woman, to his infinite regret, carried off his stores of medicine in a basket, which she brought with her for that purpose, and locked the door upon him.

      "This has escaped her," said Blaize, as soon as she was gone, opening a secret drawer in the cupboard. "How fortunate that I kept this reserve. I have still a tolerable supply in case of need. Let me examine my stock. First of all, there are plague-lozenges, composed of angelica, liquorice, flower of sulphur, myrrh, and oil of cinnamon. Secondly, an electuary of bole-armoniac, hartshorn-shavings, saffron, and syrup of wood-sorrel. I long to taste it. But then it would be running in the doctor's teeth. Thirdly, there is a phial labelled Aqua Theriacalis Stillatitia—in plain English, distilled treacle-water. A spoonful of this couldn't hurt me. Fourthly, a packet of powders, entitled Manus Christi—an excellent mixture. Fifthly, a small pot of diatesseron, composed of gentian, myrrh, bayberries, and round aristolochia. I must just taste it. Never mind the doctor! He does not know what agrees with my constitution as well as I do myself. Physic comes as naturally to me as mother's milk. Sixthly, there is Aqua Epidemica, commonly called the Plague-Water of Matthias—delicious stuff! I will only just sip it. What a fine bitter it has! I'm sure it must be very wholesome. Next, for I've lost my count, comes salt of vipers—next, powder of unicorn's horn—next, oil of scorpions from Naples—next, dragon-water—all admirable. Then there are cloves of garlics—sovereign fortifiers of the stomach—and, lastly, there is a large box of my favourite rufuses. How many pills have I taken? Only half a dozen! Three more may as well go to keep the others company."

      And hastily swallowing them, as if afraid of detection, he carefully shut the drawer, and then crept into bed, and, covering himself with blankets, endeavoured to compose himself to slumber.

      Doctor Hodges, meantime, returned to the grocer, and acquainted him that it was a false alarm, and that the porter was entirely free from infection.

      "I am glad to hear it," replied Bloundel; "but I expected as much. Blaize is like the shepherd's boy in the fable: he has cried 'wolf' so often, that when the danger really arrives, no one will heed him."

      "I must now take my leave, Mr. Bloundel," said Hodges. "I will be with you the first thing to-morrow, and have little doubt I shall find your son going on well. But you must not merely take care of him, but of yourself, and your household. It will be well