“Let the phial of globules which I gave you at parting be your bosom friends, till their friendship is required in another and a lower region. They are a sovereign remedy against rheumatism, catarrh, bronchitis, dyspepsia, lumbago, nervous affections, headaches, loss of memory, debility, monomania, melancholia, botherolia, theoretica, and, in short, all the ills that flesh is heir to, if only taken in time.”
It struck me, as I folded my mother’s letter and that of the editor, that there never was a man who went into any course of action better guarded and advised than myself. At the moment when this thought occurred to me, my friend Nicholas burst into my room in a state of unusual excitement.
“Come, Jeff,” he said, “I’m detailed for another secret duty. People seem to have inordinate faith in me, for all my duties are secret! Are you willing to go with me?”
“Go where?” I asked.
“That I may not tell,” he replied; “anywhere, or nowhere, or everywhere. All I can say is, that if you go, it will be to act as surgeon to a squadron of cavalry. I see you have letters. Good news from home—eh? What of Bella?”
“Yes” I replied, “good news and good advice—listen.”
I reopened the letters and read them aloud.
“Capital!” exclaimed Nicholas, “just the thing for you. No doubt my expedition will furnish a column and a half, if not more, of unquestionable facts for the Scottish Bawbee. Get ready, my boy; I start in half-an-hour.”
He swung off in the same hearty, reckless manner with which he had entered; and I immediately set about packing up my surgical instruments and note-books, and making other preparations for a journey of unknown extent and duration.