A plaster ordered to be applied to the inside of the stomach,
    consisting of potted bloater spread upon bread and butter.

    Eleven, A.M.—­Appears rather hotter since breakfast.  Change of air
    recommended, and Greenwich decided upon.

Half-past 11.—­Complains of the draught and noise of the second-class railway carriages, but is otherwise not worse.  Thinks he should like “a drain of half-and-half.”  Has blown his nose once in the last quarter of an hour.

Two, P.M.—­Since a light dinner of rump steaks and stout, a considerable change has taken place.  He appears labouring under cerebral excitement and short pipes, and says he shall have a regular beanish day, and go it similar to bricks.  Calls the waiter up to him in one of the booths, and has ordered “a glass of cocktail with the chill off and a cinder in it.”

Three, P.M.—­Has sallied out into the fair, still much excited, calling every female he meets “Susan,” and pronouncing the s’s with a whistling accent.  Expresses a desire to ride in the ships that go round and round.

Half-past 3.—­The motion of the ships has tended considerably to relieve his stomach.  Pulse slow and countenance pale, with a desire for a glass of ale.  Has entered a peepshow, and is now arguing with the exhibitor upon the correctness of his view of the siege of “St. Jane Daker!” which he maintains was a sea-port, and not a field with a burning windmill, as represented in the view.

Eight, P.M.—­After rambling vaguely about the fair all the afternoon, he has decided upon taking a hot-air bath in Algar’s Crown and Anchor booth.  Evidently delirious.  Has put on a false nose, and purchased a tear-coat rattle.  Appears labouring under violent spasmodic action of the muscles of his legs, as he dances “Jim along Josey,” when he sets to his partner in a country dance of eighty couple.

Half-past 10, P.M.—­Has just intimated that he does not see the use of going home, as you can always go there when you can go nowhere else.  Is seated straddling across one of the tables, on which he is beating time to the band with a hooky stick.  Will not allow the state of his pulse to be ascertained, but says we may feel his fist if we like.

Eleven.—­Considerable difficulty experienced in getting the patient to the railroad, but we at last succeeded.  After telling every one in the carriage “that he wasn’t afraid of any of them,” he fell into a deep stertorous sleep.  On arriving at home, he got into bed with his boots on, and passed a restless night, turning out twice to drink water between one and four.

JUNE.—­10, A.M.—­Has just returned from his office, his employer thinking him very unfit for work, and desiring him to lay up for a day or two.  Complains of being “jolly seedy,” and thinks he shall go to Greenwich