"Yes, they do, and are as fond of it as my boy Tom is of liquorice.
Well, this doctor, who is a friend of mine, quarreled with his host, who
boasted of his geese having the largest livers in Montpellier, and was
very proud of it. My friend knew that he could not annoy him more than
by preventing his success; so, having a large quantity of Cheltenham
salts with him, he used every morning to put a quantity of them in the
water which the geese were given to drink. This had the same effect upon
them as it has upon men and women; and instead of becoming more diseased
every day, the geese recovered their health and spirits. The Frenchman
crammed and crammed, made his closet still hotter, and sacre bleu'd, and
actually tore his hair, because his geese would be well and hearty; but,
the more he tried to make them ill, the more salts were given to them by
the doctor, who gained his point and his revenge."

"Well, that's a funny story, doctor; and since you know how to cure it,
the first time I meet with a sick goose I'll send him to you."

"Many thanks; but, as it is, there's plenty of geese to send for the
doctor."

"That's true enough. And now, Master Jack, you've had quite enough for
your penny, and I won't allow Ben to be kept waiting any longer."

"You are not going to tell any more stories, doctor?" said I.

"Why, you mud-larking vagabond, you don't mean to say that I've told
stories? Be off with you! And, I say, as you pass round the corner, just
tell Tom that I'm coming home directly."