At this important moment, in popped our perpetual interrupter, Dr.
Tonic.
“Psha, d--n it,” said my uncle, as he opened the door.
“How d’ye do, Sir, have you heard of the female levee at the Rectory
this morning?”
“Not I,” answered my uncle, peevishly, “nor do I want to know any thing
about it.”
“Oh, but I must tell you,” continued the doctor, “Mrs. Tonic, my
daughters, the widow Quiz, Mrs. Prolix, Mrs. Fungus, and Mrs. Deposit,
have all been up in a possee to pay their compliments.”
“And I dare say they passed a great many,” replied my uncle,
snappingly, the thread of his interesting theme having been so
unexpectedly broke.
“Why, Mrs. Tonic, and the girls, and Mrs. Prolix, think her very
handsome.”
“And pray who says otherwise?” interrupted my uncle.
“Why, Mrs. Fungus, and Mrs. Deposit, oppose the pretension.”
“I thought so,” rejoined my uncle; “I wish either of them would tell
_me_ so, that’s all; I’ll bet her little finger against the sense
of the whole parish; and, pray, what may their scandalous audacious
tongues take the liberty of saying.”
“Why, Mrs. Deposit calls her a little milk and water wax doll, who
strums the harp with just taste enough to please the old Rector.”
“S’death,” exclaimed my uncle, “she’s the female Weippart of the age;
her skill and taste are exquisite.”
“Well, I don’t know how it was,” continued the Doctor, “but Mrs. Fungus
could not allow her a single perfection, and declared she was never
more disappointed; she thought her just fit for the celebrated _heroine
of a romance_; a little insipid soul, a wild flower of nature, that
required the hand of _tonish cultivation_ to bring into perfection.”
“And if it flourishes in proportion to the _weeds_ of their own
_notoriety_, sprung from dunghill consequence, it will soon overspread
the village, and you may go back and tell them _I_ say so,” said my
uncle.
“Hey dey,” exclaimed the Doctor, “you’re warm--you’ve seen this little
paragon, then?”
“Yes, Sir, I am warm, and I have seen more than a paragon,” replied my
uncle.
“Why, why, you hav’nt fell in love; sure she ee’nt to be Mrs. Tweazy,
is she?” asked the Doctor, blinking his squiney eye, and bursting into
a laugh.
“What an old fool you must be,” cried my irritated uncle, “to talk such
idle jargon; are you going to carry that pretty idea over the village?
egad you’d better set the cryer to work; do step to Ladies Deposit
and Fungus, and give them the nut to crack, and I’ll take care of the
shell, I warrant me.”
The Doctor now began to draw in his horns, observing, he had merely
repeated what he had heard.
“Then don’t believe it,” continued my uncle, “it’s all lies and envy;
what the d--l, can’t you analyze woman?”
“No,” said the Doctor, “it is not possible in some cases.”
“I’ll bet a guinea, though I’m no physician,” replied my uncle, “that
I analyze both Mrs. Fungus and Mrs. Deposit, from the crowns of their
head to the soles of their feet.”
“You’re a clever man, we all know,” answered the Doctor, “I dare say
you could analyze the brain, now I should only attempt the corporeal
system, according to my own _discretional_ powers.”
“You’ll pardon me, Doctor,” resumed my uncle, “when I say that my
opinion of your _discretion_ does not extend beyond a _dose of
physic_, and a _game at cribbage_.”
“Hey! what,” cried the Doctor, “you’ve a high opinion of my abilities
at that rate, Squire; why, now, my son Bob entertains a very great
opinion of Mrs. Deposit.”
“Like enough,” resumed my uncle, “she may be one of his sort of
favourites; and I’ll be sworn there is not a man in the parish would
contend rivalship with him; God help his fancy: his own little wife’s
worth a hundred such.”
“There are more tempting trees than _one_ in an _orchard_,” said the
Doctor.
“There are,” reiterated my uncle, “and the finest tree in the Rectory
orchard is the _new planted nonpariel_.”
“There you go again,” cried the Doctor; “pray, Mr. Victor, what say
you of the charms of Miss Fitzclarence?”
I replied, “from what little I had seen of the young lady, she appeared
extremely sensible and agreeable; but, in regard to her musical
talents, I considered myself quite sufficient judge of the science to
know that there were few, very few, (if any) private performers, could
excel her abilities.”
“Indeed!” cried the doctor, “egad, if that’s the case, I must make my
girls scrape acquaintance, and try what they can do; my Elizetta is
reckoned a tight hand at the piano, I assure you: there are few girls
in the village _rattle_ the keys like her: she’s got the knack of it;
don’t you think so?”
Disgusted with his odious comparison, I merely observed, “the
instruments were so different, as well as the performance, that I
could not pass my judgment at present.”
“Well, well,” said my uncle, (willing to abolish the subject, lest the
crafty old fox should extract my sentiments, as he did his chemicals)
“now, pray let this parley cease, for as we don’t agree, we’ll adjourn
the subject, because I have some agricultural business demands
attention this morning; and, therefore, my moments are too precious to
waste in nonsense, and I’m sure many of your patients, Doctor, must be
anxiously waiting for your visits, and so for the present you’ll excuse
me.”
“Certainly, certainly,” hemm’d the Doctor, who, having no alternative
but to take his departure, brushed off, half grumpy, leaving my uncle
to laugh in his sleeve at his _agricultural fudge_, by which means
he had completely got rid of the Doctor; and thus again re-seating
ourselves, he continued the sequel of his story.