It's too bad, Sir, we can't go in
and out of town, unless in a body, after night-fall, but at the risk of
our lives. [The convivial doctor felt this public scandal acutely.] The
bloody-minded miscreants, I'd catch every living soul of them, and burn
them alive in tar-barrels. By Jove! here's old Joe Napper, of
Dirty-lane's dead. Plenty of dry eyes after _him_. And stay, here's
another row.' And so he read on.
In the meantime, stout, tightly-braced Captain Cluffe of the same corps,
and little dark, hard-faced, and solemn Mr. Nutter, of the Mills, Lord
Castlemallard's agents, came in, and half a dozen more, chiefly members
of the club, which met by night in the front parlour on the left,
opposite the bar, where they entertained themselves with agreeable
conversation, cards, backgammon, draughts, and an occasional song by Dr.
Toole, who was a florid tenor, and used to give them, 'While gentlefolks
strut in silver and satins,' or 'A maiden of late had a merry design,'
or some other such ditty, with a recitation by plump little
stage-stricken Ensign Puddock, who, in 'thpite of hith lithp,' gave
rather spirited imitations of some of the players--Mossop, Sheridan,
Macklin, Barry, and the rest.
Pages:
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62