The doctor is, I conceive, as good a Christian as the clergyman, but he
is impatient of pale or limit; he never comes to a fence without feeling
a desire to get over it. He is a great hunter of insects, and he thinks
that the wings of his butterflies might yield very excellent texts; he
is fond of geology, and cannot, especially when he is in the company of
the clergyman, resist the temptation of hurling a fossil at Moses. He
wears his scepticism as a coquette wears her ribbons--to annoy if he
cannot subdue--and, when his purpose is served, he puts his scepticism
aside--as the coquette puts her ribbons. Great arguments arise between
them, and the doctor loses his field through his loss of temper, which,
however, he regains before any harm is done. For the worthy man is
irascible withal, and opposition draws fire from him.
TWO OLD GENTLEMEN
[Sidenote: _H.B._]
Old Joe, who has been a pirate, a buffalo-hunter, a soldier, a
pastrycook, and a seller of bootlaces, collar-studs, and tie-clips in
the London gutters, sits paralysed in his grandfather chair, which has a
thin pad strung to the back and a flattened cushion on the seat, and
declares, vainly trying to keep his tongue inside his mouth, and with
his whole body shaken by paralysis, that he is happy and jolly.
"Happy and jolly," roars Joe, struggling with his frightful stammer.
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