And why not?
"Well, for my own part," said Mr. Figgs, "the discomforts of travel are altogether too great. It would not be so bad in the winter, but think how horribly hot it is. What is my condition? That of a man slowly suffocating. Think how fat I am. Even if I had the enthusiasm of Dick, or the fun of Buttons, my fat would force me to leave. Can you pretend to be a friend of mine and still urge me to go further? And suppose we passed over into Austrian territory. Perhaps we might be unmolested, but it is doubtful. Suppose, for the sake of argument, that we were arrested and detained. Imagine us--imagine _me_ shut up in a room--or worse, a cell--in the month of July in midsummer, in the hottest part of this burning fiery furnace of a country! What would be left of me at the end of a week, or at the end of even one day? What? A grease spot! A grease spot! Not a bit more, by Jingo!"
[Illustration: A Grease Spot.]
After this speech, which was for him one of extraordinary length and vigor, Mr. Figgs fell exhausted into his chair.
"But you, Doctor," said the Senator, seeing that Mr. Figgs was beyond the reach of persuasion--"you--what reason is there for you to leave? You are young, strong, and certainly not fat."
"No, thank heaven! it is not the heat, or the fear of being suffocated in an Austrian dungeon that influences me."
"What, is the reason?"
"These confounded disturbances," said the Doctor languidly.
"Disturbances?"