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“I must check this!” said he, anxiously. And, in order to do so, another and stronger glass of brandy was taken.

In the afternoon, the diarrhoea appeared again. It was still slight, and unaccompanied by pain. But, it was a symptom not to be disregarded. So brandy was applied as before. In the evening, it showed itself again.

“I wish you would give me a little of that brandy,” said he to his wife. “I’m afraid of this, it must be stopped.”

“Hadn’t you better see the doctor?”

“I don’t think it necessary. The brandy will answer every purpose.”

“I have no faith in brandy,” said Mrs. Hobart. Poor woman! she had cause for her want of faith!

“I have then,” replied her husband. “It’s the doctor’s recommendation. And he ought to know.”

“You were perfectly well before you commenced acting on his advice.”

“I was well, apparently. But, it is plain that the seeds of disease were in me. There is no telling how much worse I would have been.”

“Nor how much better. For my part I charge it all on the brandy.”

“That’s a silly prejudice,” said Mr. Hobart, with a good deal of impatience. “Every one knows that brandy is a remedy in diseases of this kind; not a producing cause.”

Mrs. Hobart was silent. But she did not get the brandy. That was more than she could do. So her husband got it himself. But, in order to make the medicinal purpose more apparent, he poured the liquor into a deep plate, added some sugar, and set it on fire.

“You will not object to burnt brandy at least,” said he. “That you know to be good.”

Mrs. Hobart did not reply. She felt that it would be useless. Only a disturbance of harmony could arise, and that would produce greater unhappiness. The brandy, after having parted with its more volatile qualities, was introduced into Mr. Hobart’s stomach, and fretted that delicate organ for more than an hour.

“I thought the burnt brandy would be effective,” said Mr. Hobart on the next morning. “And it has proved so.” In order not to lose this good effect, he fortified himself before going out with some of the same article, unburnt. But, alas! By ten o’clock the diarrhoea showed itself again, and in a more decided form.

Oh dear!” said he in increased alarm. “This won’t do. I must see the doctor.” And off he started for Doctor L–‘s office. But, on the way he could not resist the temptation to stop at a tavern for another glass of brandy, notwithstanding he began to entertain a suspicion as to the true cause of the disturbance. The doctor happened to be in. “I think I’d better have a little medicine, doctor,” said he, on seeing his medical adviser. A stitch in time, you know.”

“Ain’t you well?”

“No,” and Mr. Hobart gave his symptoms.

“An opium pill will do all that is required,” said the doctor.

“Shall I continue the brandy?” asked the patient.

“Have you taken brandy every day since I saw you?” inquired the doctor.

“Yes; twice, and sometimes three times.”

“Ah!” The doctor looked thoughtful.

“Shall I continue to do so?”

“Perhaps you had better omit it for the present. You’re not in the habit of drinking any thing?”

“No. I haven’t tasted brandy before for five years.”

“Indeed! Yes, now, I remember you said so. You’d better omit it until we see the effect of the opium. Sudden changes are not always good in times like these.”

“I don’t think the brandy has hurt me,” said Mr. Hobart.

“Perhaps not. Still, as a matter of prudence, I would avoid it. Let the opium have a full chance, and all will be right again.”

An opium pill was swallowed, and Mr. Hobart went back to his place of business. It had the intended effect. That is, it cured one disease by producing another–suspended action took the place of over-action. He was, therefore, far from being in a state of health, or free from danger in a cholera atmosphere. There was one part of the doctor’s order that Mr. Hobart did not comply with. The free use of brandy for a few days rekindled the old appetite, and made his desire for liquor so intense, that he had not, or, if he possessed it, did not exercise the power of resistance.