128

DEATH S DOINGS.

the bowels were in such a sluggish condition as torequire the constant aid of art; all which had soshaken my nerves that life was a burden to me,and I would have given a thousand pounds to anywretched bravo, to have blown my brains out."Here my poor friend sunk back in his chair, andseemed almost affected to tears with the recollec-tion of what he regarded as the height of inhumanityin Dr. Bolus. It was in vain for me to interfere.I said nothing, and he soon recovered his self-pos-session. " I really believe," continued he, " thatthe fellow would have poisoned me if I had re-mained longer his patient." I soon convincedhim, that the Doctor could have no interest in hisdeath, as his fortune would pass to his cousin, andnot to his mother, with the detail of whose marriagewith Bolus he had concluded his story. He ap-peared struck that he should have forgotten thisfact; and then, as if he thought I also doubted thevalidity of his complaints, beseeched me to meetDr. Frogsfoot on the following day; and con-cluded by assuring me, that he believed he hadwater on his brain, for that, " this morning, twodrops of as clear fluid as ever distilled from a rock,