394 The Driggist of Fife. [Apriz, 
from his alarmed view, while between every three or four, in the same 
equable and polite tone came, “I will thank you to prepare me another 
box, and compose yourself, Sir; min no hurry.” Who could the 
stranger be ? Andrew was now at the very climax of alarm ; the perspira= 
tion stood on his brow, and his hands trembled so as to render it almost 
impossible to reach down his jars without damaging them ; strong doses 
he had certainly often prepared after a city feast for the attendants on it, - 
but this outdid it all. A man that could devour a leg of mutton, digest 
a tenpenny nail, and take a box of blue pills at a mouthful, had never 
entered his imagination, much less did he ever expect to see such a being 
in person, but be he who he may, he was again obliged to commence his 
labour. The stranger had now finished his box, and Andrew had no 
alternative but to commence again, or stare him in the face—the latter 
he could not do, as his imagination had now metamorphosed into some- 
thing more or less than man ; once more, therefore, did Andrew ply at 
the pestle, while the stranger, as if to beguile the tedium of waiting, 
began to grow more loquacious. Had Andrew ever scught after the 
Philosopher’s Stone, the Universal Solvent, or the Elixir of Life? Did he 
put much faith in Solomon’s Balm of Gilead, or Carrington’s Pills, er 
did he believe in the Metemsychosis ? In vain he assured him he studied 
nothing but the Edinburgh Dispensatory, that his shop bounded his 
researches ; the stranger took it for granted he must be able to give or 
receive information, and question after question did he put, to which 
Andrew assented, without knowing their purport. At length he seemed 
to have exhausted all his subjects, sat himself on the chair, as if to com- 
pose himself to sleep, and in a short time gave unequivocal proofs of it. ~ 
Andrew now began to breathe more freely, and ventured to cast his eyes 
towards his strange customer; and, after all, there was nothing to be 
alarmed at in his appearance, except he noticed the breath from his 
nostrils appeared more like the steam of a tea-kettle than the breath of 
a human being—still there was nothing extraordinary in his appearance ; 
he had a good jovial English farmer’s face, and a dress that well suited 
it; to be sure a smile, or rather grin, lurked in the corner of his mouth, 
even while asleep, as if he mocked poor Andrew’s perplexity ; he did 
not, however, allow much time for observation—he seemed to be intui-— 
tively aware Andrew had ceased his operations, and he awoke with his 
usual polite manner. ‘Oh, I see you have finished ; have the goodness 
to prepare me one box more ; but let me pray you to take your leisure 
and compose yourself, for I am in no hurry.” Andrew, who had fondly 
hoped his labour was at an end, now found himself obliged to renew it 
again with vigour, while the stranger aroused himself, rose from his 
chair, yawned and shook himself—spoke ot the comfortable nap he had 
enjoyed, was sorry he had kept Andrew up so late, or early rather, for 
it was now morning. Andrew, though tternally wishing him any 
where but in his shop, yet constrained himself politely to answer, his 
commands gave him much pleasure. Again did he renew his toil. Box. 
after box did he prepare without intermission, and the hours of one, two, 
and three, had been told in succession, by the market clock ; bitterly 
did he lament his destiny—long before this ought he to have been snug — 
and comfortable in his warm bed. Anger now began to assume the 
place of fear, as he grew more accustomed to his visitor’s company, and — 
often did he determine in himself to refuse preparing any more, still his 
courage was not yet at that pitch; probably his exertions, as I said 
