THROUGH A GLASS LIGHTLY
Æsculapius forced an ear-trumpet, which he called by another name, into my ribs, and pounded me with his rude fingers and aggressive thumbs. He hurt me, he bruised me, he insulted me, he probed me with questions as searching as a small-tooth comb, as debasing as the catechism itself. And then he bade me put on my discarded garments again, and, as he opened the door for my ignominious exit, conjured me, as I valued my life, to drink no more wine or strong drink. A week later I heard from the insurance company that my life being only a second-rate one a higher premium would be demanded. From that moment began suffering. For years back had I been an authority on all that in sunny climates and happy lands had been expressed from the grape. At every house where the cellar
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