was gained;—struck with the quaintness of the notion, a little crowd gathered instantly around him, to hear it farther developed.
"Of an Apothecary's Shop, Ma'am!" repeated Tomlinson. "There lie your simples, and your purges, and your cordials, and your poisons; all things to heal, and to strengthen, and to destroy. There are drugs enough in that collection to save you, to cure you all; but none of you know how to use them, nor what medicines to ask for, nor what portions to take; so that the greater part of you swallow a wrong dose, and die of the remedy!"
"But if the town be the apothecary's shop, what, in the plan of your idea, stands for the apothecary?" asked an old gentleman, who perceived at what Tomlinson was driving.
"The Apothecary, Sir," answered Augustus, stealing his notion from Clifford, and sinking his voice, lest the true proprietor should overhear him,—Clifford was otherwise employed—"The Apothecary, Sir, is the LAW! It is the Law that stands behind the counter and dispenses to each
