ON A SUGAR ESTATE. 235 



From the delightful retreat at Rutland Vale I re- 

 turned to town recuperated, though still shaky and 

 very thin. My first visit was to the treasurer of the 

 island. "Bless my soul," said he, "you haven't any 

 blood ; it is blood you want. Come with me ; I'll show 

 you what you must do now, if you would build your- 

 self up." Saying which, he led me by the hand 

 to the sideboard, poured out a glass of ripe old 

 Madeira and handed it to me. " Isn't that going to 

 restore your vigor?" said he, as I set down the glass 

 with a sigh of satisfaction. 



Then I was suddenly converted to that man's belief. 

 Since my first skirmish with doctors, many years 

 agone, I had never met a physician who prescribed 

 and administered so sensibly as this one. 



I looked at the old man with admiration ; I thrilled 

 through with hope and the effects of the potent wine. 

 It was blood I wanted, was most urgently in need of, 

 and I waxed blood-thirsty ; not all the Indians on all 

 the plains could be fiercer for blood than I. My 

 physician smiled a complacent smile; said he, "I 

 knew it, hit the nail on the head that time. Bless 

 your soul, take some more, you don't get such wine 

 every day ; bottled myself, imported direct ; take some 

 more blood ! " It danced along every vein, and every 

 pulse beat responsive gratulation. 



"Now," continued my friend, "you can't get that 

 medicine anywhere else, at present ; I have thought 

 of that, and as we are, I think, agreed as to its efficacy, 

 you must accept a few bottles, which I shall send down 

 by Thomas, to-morrow. You know the dose : a wine- 

 glassful every three hours, and oftener if you feel it 

 necessary." 



