place, and all is well. I wish you would find me such a cure."

"Will you try it?"

"If it is not Greek," said my uncle.




CHAPTER V.


My Father's Crotchet On The Hygienic Chemistry Of Books.

"If," said my father,--and here his hand was deep in his waistcoat,--"if
we accept the authority of Diodorus as to the inscription on the great
Egyptian library--and I don't see why Diodorus should not be as near the
mark as any one else?" added my father interrogatively, turning round.

My mother thought herself the person addressed, and nodded her gracious
assent to the authority of Diodorus. His opinion thus fortified, my
father continued,--"If, I say, we accept the authority of Diodorus, the
inscription on the Egyptian library was: 'The Medicine of the Mind.'
Now, that phrase has become notoriously trite and hackneyed, and people
repeat vaguely that books are the medicine of the mind. Yes; but to
apply the medicine is the thing!"

"So you have told us at least twice before, brother," quoth the Captain,
bluffly. "And what Diodorus has to do with it, I know no more than the
man of the moon."