recipe, you are rather an unscrupulous practitioner."

"The person whose mortal relics fill that grave," said Septimius, "was no
enemy of mine (no private enemy, I mean, though he stood among the enemies
of my country), nor had I anything to gain by his death. I strove to avoid
aiming at his life, but he compelled me."

"Many a chance shot brings down the bird," said Doctor Portsoaken. "You say
you had no interest in his death. We shall see that in the end."

Septimius did not try to follow the conversation among the mysterious hints
with which the doctor chose to involve it; but he now sought to gain some
information from him as to the mode of preparing the recipe, and whether
he thought it would be most efficacious as a decoction, or as a
distillation. The learned chemist supported most decidedly the latter
opinion, and showed Septimius how he might make for himself a simpler
apparatus, with no better aids than Aunt Keziah's teakettle, and one or
two trifling things, which the doctor himself supplied, by which all might
be done with every necessary scrupulousness.

"Let me look again at the formula," said he. "There are a good many minute
directions that appear trifling, but it is not safe to neglect any
minutiae in the preparation of an affair like this; because, as it is all
mysterious and unknown ground together, we cannot tell which may be the
important and efficacious part. For instance, when all else is done, the
recipe is to be exposed seven days to the sun at noon. That does not look
very important, but it may be. Then again, 'Steep it in moonlight during
the second quarter.' That's all moonshine, one would think; but there's no
saying. It is singular, with such preciseness, that no distinct directions
are given whether to infuse, decoct, distil, or what other way; but my