Constatia.

Suggested by Boccaccio's Constance.

Constatia, sitting in her chamber, weeps
To know what she must know. Thither her maid,
With face of seeming pity, glibly voiced,

Hath been, and saying that she feared to tell,
Told all, more than enough-that he with freight
Of borrowed merchandise had put to sea,

And would return when so his fortune rose
As to make him her equal; furthermore,

That some had laughed to scorn his thrifty thought,
And some had wondered if the goods were his
To barter with, and she herself-until
The raised hand of her mistress bade her cease,
And at a sharp word spoken she went out.

"At last! at last!" between two heavy sobs,
Murmured Constatia, in her chamber lone,
Sitting with head downbent upon her hands-
"The doom is come at last of which they warned!
It could not be that we should always sip
Sweet drops, nor taste the bitter in the cup

Their hate had poisoned. Ah! would I had drank
The bitter, leaving him, if so I might,

Only the sweet

And this meant his wild talk

Under the trees last night, from pain of which

He won me by his wildering fantasies;

This meant-O heart! break ere thou answer it-
His last farewell, there spoken at the gate,

And the slow tear that fell upon his kiss."

Then with a finger pressed on either eye

She stayed her sobs, and saying, "I will be poor--
I will be poor like him"-displaced the wreath
Of plaited velvet with the pearls inwoven,
She wore upon her head, and threw it down;
Unclasped her bracelet, tore her broach away,
Retaining but one little hook of gold,

With which she fixed her girdle-that he gave,
And she would keep no ornament save that.
Her heat assuaged again, she wept, recalling
All his love-talk from that first day they met,
Unto the last, and wondered with much dread
If she had ever been unkind to him,

Or given him a cold look-nor heard the day,
By signal of the busy passing feet,

First growing, lessening then-nor saw the shades

Fall dim and long upon the traceried wall:

But waiting on till evening in that mood,

Communing thus,

Without or look or word, the troubled hearts

Told all their trouble till the night drew on,

When through the darkness of the room he spake,
Saying, "Sweet daughter, grieve not though I grieve,
Who have more cause, for I am old and weak,

And may not live to see him come again

But thou wilt scarce have blossomed through the days
Of all thy youth, when with more wealth than now
Thy father or Lipari noble hath,

He shall return and woo thee not for naught."

She heard, but to her own heart said, "By this
He even would win me from my sorrowing:
It cannot be that yet Martuccio

Will come again, if he do not grow rich
He will not come, and years at least divide,
And I must die ere many years be gone!"

So ran her thought, and without answering
The old man's words more than by sobs aloud,
She crept away, resolving she would die,
And not wait many years for death to come.

A Day with the Water Doctor;

OR,

"EVERY MAN HIS OWN WASHERWOMAN."

Concluded.

PUNCTUALLY at eight o'clock the breakfast bell rang. Did you ever feel a breakfast bell ring? Such impulsive emotions are awakened by it, which no tongue can describe to a stroke. They may be the result of animal magnetism, wafted into the regions of sense by sound waves peculiar to such sympathetic appeals. However, those under the influence of that bell, needle-like, turned in the direction of the pole-star--the breakfast room.

The room will accommodate perhaps sixty at meals. This morning there were about that number of patients and impatients, invalids-valid and invalid-arranged at table in the order in which they entered the establishment, a card with the name marking the position of each. Glancing at the cards all round, I was struck with the number of Captains and Reverends. For those of the latter, who are recruiting their health, three weeks at a Hydropathic Establishment is worth six at the sea-side. "At the water-cure, the whole life is one remedy," and as a part of the system, great attention is paid to the diet of the patients. On the breakfast table I found bread, both brown and white, dry toast, butter, tea, and cocoa, all of the best quality. There was also golden syrup for those who liked it. Water patients seldom complain of a want of appetite, the danger is always on the side of eating too much. The morning letters are always laid on the breakfast table, and there were for my share a newspaper and a "billy ducks." The latter I put into my pocket, as the reading of it might have caused a rush of blood from the stomach to the heart, and so have augmented my complaint-dyspepsia. After breakfast I retired to my room, No. third storey, when I duly acknowledged the receipt of the letter; and then turned to Joe's memorandum-book which lay on the table, to see what was the order of the day. In it I found written, "See Doctor at eleven." So I groomed, looked at my tongue, and descended. In the ante-room, I found a lady caressing a patient but effeminate brute- a lap dog-a water-cur at the water cure-Hydropathy v Hydrophobia. Well, what of this? Why, I longed to knock that fellow off, and introduce into his place one of the great "unwashed" out of the back streets of old Walsall. Give him a day with the water doctor, and half an hour with an outfitter, and he would make an infinitely-superior subject for her care than a puppy. What a half." clammed" idea some of these rich old maids seem to have of social life. A dozen cats, as many of the canine species, and a silver spoon for each, are to some of the shelved singles the height of domestic bliss. May I never be a bachelor!

The customary

My interview with Dr. W. was not a long one. examinations, a bit of chit-chat, a few scratches in Joe's book, and all was over. An agreeable, comfortable old gentleman is Dr. W., and well deserves the praise which is given him. Sir E. B. Lytton, formerly a patient of his, thus speaks of him in a

36

care.

THE WALSALL OBSERVER.

letter to the Editor of the "New Monthly Magazine." "All the powerful auxiliaries of Malvern are subordinate to the diligent, patient care; the minute, unwearied attention; the anxious, unaffected interest, which Dr. Wilson manifests to every patient, from the humblest to the highest, who may be submitted to his The vast majority of difficult cures which I have witnessed, have emanated from his skill." I had an appointment with Joe at twelve o'clock, and if punctuality is the mark of a true gentleman, Joe was one. He taught me a lesson. Although he expected four shillings from me at the end of the week for his attentions, he had the independence to keep me waiting a quarter of an hour, because I was behind him about three minutes or so, and I admired him for that.

Soon after twelve Joe was there, and so was I. He read, "12, sitz, cold, 7 m.;" and gave me directions accordingly. A "sitz" or slip bath was placed for me, with about six inches of water, in which I had to sit seven minutes, covered round with my blanket. "Every man" of sedentary habits will find this bath a valuable one, provided a re-action is brought about. A common washingtub, about seventeen inches in diameter and twelve inches deep, will answer the purpose.

For those who can bear it, the douch is generally prescribed as the noon bath. The patient has to stand under a cistern of water which is about eighteen feet above his head. From this cistern through a pipe which descends about two feet, he receives on the top of his back a stream of water. "The "shocking" effects of this bath are very beneficial, except in cases of particular diseases, such as the heart disease. Patients are always cautioned not to receive the full force of the stream on the head, whether that is because it may induce water on the brain or not, the doctor did not tell me.

Now for another constitutional. There was just time after the "sitz" to go to Malvern Wells, a picturesque little village about two miles from Great Malvern. A favourite route for the pedestrian is along the tops of the ridge of hills. The exhilarating breeze, and the extensive prospect, will repay for the toil up. Three cathedrals, a hundred churches, and portions of eleven counties, may be seen from the Malvern hills; but these I could not stop to At Malvern Wells is a delicious spring-the Holy well, very similar to St. Ann's. Many are the cures said to have been performed by the monks of old, with water from this well, and

count.

that of St. Ann's, in the infant days of Hydropathy. The following verse of a song, perhaps more than two hundred years old, thus praises these springs:

"Out of that famous hill,
There daily springeth
A water passing still,
Which always bringeth
Great comfort to all them
That are diseased men,

And makes them well again

To praise the Lord."

Though all alone, I enjoyed this ramble exceedingly, and, returning along the turnpike road, I reached the establishment in time to "feel" the dinner-bell ring. Now, it is a mistaken idea that water-cure patients are stinted in their diet. The bill of fare is a very generous one, excluding only such indigestible things as pork, pastry, cheese, and the tongs and fire-shovel. No wine allowed, of course, at the water cure. Roast beef and mutton, vegetables, and light puddings, were the principal articles of diet. There was no rule as to quantity. True, one young lady, nearly opposite me, had to use the weighing-machine-so many ounces were her allowance, and no more; but she had, doubtless, wandered out of the path of discretion, and now had to scale her weigh back. After dinner, some went to the drawing room, and some to the gymnasium. The latter is a room which stands on one side of the lawn, with numerous kinds of instruments and games for in-door exercise. Battledore and shuttlecock attracted most attention. A group would often be found watching a contest between a young lady and gentleman. How he would pull his shirt collar up if he won, and when she beat him-oh, dear me! At five, another "sitz," a good rubbing of the chest and back with a wet towel, then a vigorous application of the drying sheet,and out again. This time I took a straight course over the hill to the pretty little church of Mathon, and thence round the hill to North Malvern, which is delightfully situated, overlooking an undulating landscape. At seven, the usual hour, we sat down to tea. This meal, which in every respect resembles the breakfast, is made to include supper, as nothing is allowed afterwards, except a glass of water.

In the evening nearly all the patients retire to the drawing room-a large and well-furnished apartment. Here the company break up into groups, according to taste. Some gossip and crack