THE LADIES ’ FLORAL* CABINET. 
275 
After Aristarchus had been gene about ten days, dur¬ 
ing which time I had received a dingy and nearly un¬ 
translatable postal-card informing mo of his safe arrival 
somewhere, I received a telegram from Furguson, ask¬ 
ing me to come at ouce to Bartlett’s, at the Upper Sara¬ 
nac, as Aristarchus was sick. Of course I was fright¬ 
ened, and made preparations to start on the next train. 
Uncle Thaddeus comforted me, by saying ; “I dare say 
he’s been overdosing. You sent him oil with medicine 
enough to have killed a dozen men ! ” 
Leandcr wanted to go with me to keep me “out of 
scrapes,” but I had no fear of getting into scrapes alone; 
It always took Aristarchus and mo both to get into a 
predicament.* So I informed Leander that he could 
render me greater service by keeping himself and Mi¬ 
randa Dorothea “out of scrapes" during my absence. 
But it was not an easy journey to take alone—I went by 
rail to Burlington, then crossed Lake Champlain in a 
steamboat, then took a stage to Martin’s, and hired a 
man to row me across the Lower Saranac and Bound 
Lake to Bartlett’s, where I arrived a little after nightfall. 
I was met by the landlord, of whom I eagerly inquired 
concerning my husband’s condition. He assured me 
that Aristarchus was better, indeed quite convalescent: 
but his tone and manner seemed embarrassed and sus¬ 
picious, and I demanded to be led to my husband at 
ouce. After a momentary hesitation he complied with 
my demand, and I followed him through dark, crooked 
passages until I became dimly conscious of the sound of 
a violin and of many feet, and we presently paused at 
the open door, not of my husband's sick-room, but of a 
long, low kitchen. It was a curious scene upon which I 
gazed in no little bewilderment as to why I should be 
brought here. 
One side of the room had never been finished, and 
was partly open to the weather; a large cooking-range 
stood in the centre of the room, and around this were 
revolving, in the dance, a group of men and women to 
the sound of a violin, which was played with an energy 
and evident relish that may have been intended to atone 
for lack of skill. The fiddler, who was perched on a 
table at the farther side of the room, was a rough- 
bearded, flannel-sliirted fellow whose hair stood up bel¬ 
ligerently all over his head, and whose nose was exceed¬ 
ingly red and enormously large. An occasional bat flew 
in through the crevices of the unfinished side of the 
room and flapped about over the heads of the dancers, 
giving rise to little feminine screams and a few extra 
steps, but not otherwise disturbing the amusement. 
But I had not taken a sudden and anxious journey to 
see a score or two of guides and waiter-girls dancing in. 
the kitchen of an Adirondack hotel, and I was turning 
to upbraid the landlord when the red-nosed fiddler 
caught sight of me, and clearing the table with a bound 
advanced toward me with extended arms, in which I 
found mysolf firmly clasped before I could stir or call 
for help. Of course I uttered an exclamation—Aris¬ 
tarchus insists that I screeched!—and endeavored to 
withdraw from this unsought and unwelcome embrace. 
He says I fought him like a catamount j but as this 
affectionate individual released me, he said, “Don’t be 
a goose, Cordelia.” 
It was the voice of Aristarchus! I stored in bewilder¬ 
ment, until by a vigorous effort of my imaginative fac¬ 
ulties I began to see that if this mor ls tcr were properly 
shaven and shorn, and reduced as t.o his nose, and civil¬ 
ized as to his clothes, he might bear some resemblance 
to my husband ! Then I said, “ What has happened to 
your nose?” 
“My nose,” repeated Aristarchus, passing his hand 
caressingly over that abnormally developed feature* 
“Oh! the mosquitoes did that; they are the principal 
inhabitants up here, and they are opposed to immigra¬ 
tion.” 
“I thought you was sick,” I resumed in an offended 
tone. 
“ So I was, but you see I’ve got all over it. The fact 
is, I was scared; but you sit down here, and I’ll send 
Furguson to tell you all about it, while I play for these 
folks to dance a little longer.” 
“Aristarchus,” I said severely, “How can you do 
such a thing, and you a minister, too? What would 
people think ?” 
“The people aren't here, and these folks have little 
fun up here in the mountains, and if I can do anything 
to give them a good time, I shall do it. I don’t see any 
more harm in playing a fiddle than in clawing ivory,’ 
by which elegant phrase Aristarchus denominated 
piano-playing. 
But Furguson had now come to greet me, and Aris¬ 
tarchus hastened away to ply his new vocation. 
Furguson proceeded to tell me about my husband’s ill¬ 
ness, and a very amusing episode I found it. 
It seemed he was taken the day after reaching 
Bartlett’s. What ailed , him, they did not know. At 
first he complained of a headache, then of being cbilly 
and experiencing pains in different parts of his anatomy. 
The landlord said he guessed he’d got the fever and ague 
coming on, and advised a sweat; the guide said it might 
be the rheumatism, and recommended a dose of bitters; 
one of the waiters, doubtless the one who had served 
his dinner, said it must be biliousness, and hinted at a 
dose of Epsom salts; another said it might be a sudden 
cold and might be conquered by hot whiskey. Aristar¬ 
chus said he felt as if he was dying, and he didn’t care 
what he took, so Tjurgus m put him to bed and gave him 
the sweat, the bitters, the salts and the whiskey. After 
this he felt w rse, and insisted that I should be sent for, 
and begged that they would try and keep him alive 
until I came. 'Furguson assured him that if medicine 
could do it, it should be done ! Then Furguson sent the 
telegram which I had received, and to which I had 
responded. Having done that, he proceeded to investi¬ 
gate the medicines which I had put up for emergencies, 
•and which they had not thought of before. Furguson 
informed Aristarchus that he had never had a sick 
day in his life, and didn’t know anything about 
medicines, but he would read over the labels and let 
him say what would suit his case. So Furguson read 
as follows: 
“ Brown’s Jamaica Ginger—” 
“I don’t want anything hot,” declared Aristarchus, 
who was still undergoing the sweating treatment. 
“ Cholera Mixture—” 
“O-oh!” groaned the victim, “I’ve got a horrible 
pain, but I don’t know whether it is cholera or salts!” 
“Rhubarb—” 
“Throw physic to the dogs, I’ll none of it!” quoted 
the sick person. 
“Hayne’s Arabian Balsam, the most perfect remedy 
ever known for burns, poisoning, erysipelas, corns, 
chilblains, and wounds of all kinds,” read Furguso*'. 
