At the height of three stories, in a respectable-looking tenement in a
certain quarter of a certain city which shall be nameless, there resided
a decent widow woman of the name of Paton, who kept lodgers.
At the particular time, and on the particular occasion at and on which
we introduce the reader to Mrs. Paton's lodging-house, there was a
certain parlour in the said house in a state of unusual tidiness. Not to
say that this parlour was not always in good order: it was; but in the
present instance, it displayed an extra degree both of _redding_-up and
of comfort.
An unusually large fire blazed in the polished grate, and a couple of
candles, in shining candlesticks, stood on the bright mahogany table. On
a small old-fashioned sideboard was exhibited a goodly display of
bottles and glasses, flanked by a sugar basin, heaped up with snowy bits
of refined sugar; a small plate of cut cheese, another of biscuit, and a
third bearing a couple of lemons.
Everything about the room, in short, gave indication of an approaching
guzzle. The symptoms were unmistakeable. The only occupant of the room
at this time was a gentleman, who sat in an arm-chair opposite the
fire, carelessly turning over the leaves of a new magazine. His heart,
evidently, was not in the employment; he was merely putting off time,
and doing so with some impatience of manner, for he was ever and anon
pulling out his watch to see how the night sped on.
This gentleman was Mr. Walkinshaw, the doctor's inviter, head clerk in a
respectable mercantile establishment in the city; and, we need hardly
say, one of Mrs. Paton's lodgers. Neither need we say, we fancy, that he
was just now waiting, and every moment expecting, the arrival of the
doctor, and the other friends he had invited, nor that the preparations
above described were intended for the special enjoyment of the party
alluded to.
"Five-and-twenty minutes to nine," said Mr. Walkinshaw, looking for the
twentieth time at the dial of his watch. "I wonder what has become of
the doctor! _he_ used to be so pointed."
At this moment a ring of the door bell announced a visitor. Mr.
Walkinshaw, in his impatience for the appearance of his friends, and not
doubting that this was one of them, snatched up the candle, and ran to
the door himself. He opened it; when a little thick-set figure, in
Hessian boots, wrapped up in an ample blue cloth cloak, with an immense
cape, and having a red comforter tied round his throat, presented
himself. It was the doctor.
"How d'ye do? and how d'ye do? Come away. Glad to see you!" with cordial
shaking of hands and joyous smiles, marked the satisfaction with which
the inviter and the invited met. The doctor was in high spirits, as he
always was on such occasions; that is, when there was a prospect of good
eating and drinking, and nothing to pay.
Having assisted the doctor to divest himself of his cloak, hat, and
comforter, Mr. Walkinshaw ushered him into his room; and having kindly
seated him in the arm-chair which he had himself occupied a minute or
two before, he ran to the sideboard, took therefrom a small bottle, and
very small glass of the shape of a thistle-top, and approaching his
guest, said in a coaxing tone, filling up at the same time--
"Thimbleful of brandy, doctor; just to take the chill off." Anything for
an excuse in such cases.
"Why, no objection, my dear sir," said the doctor, smiling most
graciously, taking the proffered glass of ruby-coloured liquid, wishing
health and a good wife to his host, and tossing off the tiny bumper.
The doctor had scarcely bolted his alcohol, when the door bell again
rung violently.
"There _they_ are at last!" exclaimed Walkinshaw, joyously.
And there they were, to be sure. Half-a-dozen rattling fellows all in a
lump. In they poured into Walkinshaw's room with hilarious glee.
"Ah, doctor. Oh, doctor. Here too, doctor. Hope you're well, doctor.
Glad to see you, doctor!" resounded in all quarters; for they were all
intimate acquaintances of our medical friend, and were really delighted
to see him.
To this running fire of salutation, the doctor replied by a series of
becks, bows, and smiles, and a shaking of hands, right and left, in
rapid succession.
All these, and such like preliminaries, gone through, the party took
their seats around the table, and the business of the evening began. It
soon did more: it progressed, and that most joyously. Jug followed jug
in rapid succession. The doctor got into exuberant spirits, and sung
several of his best songs, in his best manner. But alas!--
"Pleasures are," etc. etc.
They are, sweet poet, and no man could be more strongly impressed with,
or would have more readily allowed the truth and happy application of
thy beautiful similes, than the doctor, on the occasion of which we are
speaking. Enjoyment was quickly succeeded by satiety; and alert
apprehension, and quick perception, by that doziness and obfuscation of
the faculties which marks the _quantum suff._ at the festive board.