Every mile furnished its legend, and Dr.Amboyne related them all so graphically that the patient's mind was literally stolen away from himself.

At last, after a rapid drive of eleven miles through the pure invigorating air, they made a sudden turn, and entered a pleasant and singularly rural village: they drew up at a rustic farmhouse, clad with ivy; and Dr.Amboyne said, "This is the temple: here you can sleep as safe from gunpowder as a field-marshal born." The farmer's daughter came out, and beamed pleasure at sight of the doctor: he got down, and told her the case, privately, and gave her precise instructions.

She often interrupted the narrative with "Lawkadaisies," and other rural interjections, and simple exclamations of pity.

She promised faithful compliance with his orders.
He then beckoned Henry in, and said, "This picture of health was a patient of mine once, as you are now; there's encouragement for you.

I put you under her charge.