THE GOOD-HUMOURED CLUB. company to be again fit for society. You are to understand, that all ill-natured words or uneasy gestures are sufficient cause for banishment; speaking impatiently to servants, making a man repeat what he says, or anything that betrays inattention or dishumour, are also criminal without reprieve. But it is provided, that whoever observes the ill-natured fit coming upon himself, and voluntarily retires, shall be received at his return from the infirmary with the highest marks of esteem. By these and other wholesome methods, it is expected that, if they cannot cure one another, yet at least they have taken care that the ill-humour of one shall not be troublesome to the rest of the company. There are many other rules which the society have established for the preservation of their ease and tranquillity, the effects of which, with the incidents that arise among them, shall be communicated to you from time to time, for the public good. [A further account of the infirmary, extracted from a second letter to the Spectator, here follows.] On Monday the assembly was in very good humour, having received some recruits of French claret that morning: when, unluckily, towards the middle of the dinner, one of the company swore at his servant in a very rough manner for having put too much water in his wine. Upon which the president of the day, who is always the mouth of the company, after having convinced him of the impertinence of his passion, and the insult it had made upon the company, ordered his man to take him from the table, and convey him to the infirmary. There was but one more sent away that day; this was a gentleman, who is reckoned by some persons one of the greatest wits, and by others one of the greatest boobies about town. This you will say is a strange character: but what makes it stranger yet, it is a very true one, for he is perpetually the reverse of himself, being always merry or dull to excess. We brought him hither to divert us, which he did very well upon the road, having lavished away as much wit and laughter upon the hackney-coachman as might have served him during his whole stay here, had it been duly managed. He had been lumpish for two or three days, but was so far connived at, in hopes of recovery, that we dispatched one of the briskest fellows among the brotherhood into the infirmary for having told him at table he was not merry. But our president observing that he indulged himself in this long fit of stupidity, and construing it as a contempt of the college, ordered him to retire into the place prepared for such companions. He was no sooner got into it, but his wit and mirth returned upon him in so violent a manner, that he shook the whole infirmary with the noise of it, and had so good an effect upon the rest of the patients, that 339 he brought them all out to dinner with him the next day. On Tuesday we were no sooner sat down, but one of the company complained that his head ached; upon which another asked him, in an insolent manner, what he did there then? This insensibly grew into some warm words; so that the president, in order to keep the peace, gave directions to take them both from the table, and lodge them in the infirmary. Not long after, another of the company telling us he knew, by a pain in his shoulder, that we should have some rain, the president ordered him to be removed, and placed as a weather-glass in the apartment above mentioned. On Wednesday, a gentleman having received a letter written in a woman's hand, and changing colour twice or thrice as he read it, desired leave to retire into the infirmary. The president consented, but denied him the use of pen, ink, and paper, till such time as he had slept upon it. One of the company being seated at the lower end of the table, and discovering his secret discontent, by finding fault with every dish that was served up, and refusing to laugh at anything that was said, the president told him, that he found he was in an uneasy seat, and desired him to accommodate himself better in the infirmary. After dinner, a very honest fellow chancing to let a pun fall from him; his neighbour cried out, "To the infirmary;" at the same time pretending to be sick at it, as having the same natural antipathy to a pun which some have to a cat. This produced a long debate. Upon the whole, the punster was acquitted, and his neighbour sent off. On Thursday there was but one delinquent. This was a gentleman of strong voice, but weak understanding. He had unluckily engaged himself in dispute with a man of excellent sense, but of a modest elocution. The man of heat replied to every answer of his antagonist with a louder note than ordinary, and only raised his voice when he should have enforced his argument. Finding himself driven to an absurdity, he still reasoned in a more clamorous and confused manner, and concluded with a loud thump upon the table. The president immediately ordered him to be carried off, and dieted with water-gruel, till he should be sufficiently weakened for conversation. On Friday there passed very little remarkable, saving only that several petitions were read of the persons in custody, desiring to be released from their confinement, and vouching for one another's good behaviour for the future. On Saturday we received many excuses from persons who had found themselves in an unsociable temper, and had voluntarily shut themselves up. The infirmary was, indeed, never so full as on this day, which I was at some loss to account for, till, upon my going abroad, I observed that it was an easterly wind. The retirement of most of my friends has given me opportunity and leisure of writing you this letter, which I must not conclude without assuring you, that all the members of our college, as well those who are under confinement as those who are at liberty, are your very humble servants. THE COUNTRY APOTHECARY. [GEORGE COLMAN, the Younger. See Page 6.] SIR CHARLES CROPLAND at breakfast; his Valet-dechambre adjusting his hair. Sir Charles. Has old Warner, the steward, been told that I arrived last night? Valet. Yes, Sir Charles; with orders to attend you this morning. Sir Cha. (Yawning and stretching.) What can a man of fashion do with himself in the country at this wretchedly dull time of the year? Valet. It is very pleasant to-day out in the park, Sir Charles. Sir Cha. Pleasant, you booby! How can the country be pleasant in the middle of spring? All the world's in London. Valet. I think, somehow, it looks so lively, Sir Charles, when the corn is coming up. Sir Cha. Blockhead! Vegetation makes the face of a country look frightful. It spoils hunting. Yet, as my business on my estate here is to raise supplies for my pleasures elsewhere, my journey is a wise one. What day of the month was it yesterday, when I left town on this wise expedition? Valet. The first of April, Sir Charles. Sir Cha. Umph! When Mr. Warner comes, show him in. Valet. I shall, Sir Charles. Enter Servant. (Exit. Servant. Mr. Ollapod, the apothecary, is in the hall, Sir Charles, to inquire after your health. Sir Cha. Show him in. (Exit Servant.) The fellow's a character, and treats time as he does his patients. He shall kill a quarter of an hour for me this morning. Enter OLLAPOD. Ollapod. Sir Charles, I have the honour to be your slave. Hope your health is good. Been a hard winter here. Sore throats were plenty; so were woodcocks. Flushed four couple one morning in a half-mile walk from our town to cure Mrs. Quarles of a quinsy. May coming on soon, Sir Charles-season of delights, love and campaigning! Hope you come to sojourn, Sir Charles. Shouldn't be always on the wing-that's being too flighty. He, he, he! Do you take, good sir-do you take? Sir Cha. Oh, yes, I take. But, by the cockade in your hat, Ollapod, you have added lately, it seems, to your avocations. Olla. He, he! yes, Sir Charles. 1 have now the honour to be cornet in the Volunteer Associa tion corps of our town. It fell out unexpected— pop, on a sudden; like the going off of a fieldpiece, or an alderman in an apoplexy. Sir Cha. Explain. Olla. Happening to be at home-rainy day-no going out to sport, blister, shoot, nor bleed—was busy behind the counter. You know my shop, Sir Charles-Galen's head over the door-new gilt him last week, by the by-looks as fresh as a pill. Sir Cha. Well, no more on that head now. Proceed. Olla. On that head! he, he, he! That's very well-very well, indeed! Thank you, good sir; I owe you one. Churchwarden Posh, of our town, being ill of an indigestion from eating three pounds of measly pork at a vestry dinner, I was now making up a cathartic for the patient, when who should strut into the shop but Lieutenant Grains, the brewer-sleek as a dray-horse-in a smart scarlet jacket, tastily turned up with a rhubarb. coloured lapelle. I confess his figure struck me. I looked at him as I was thumping the mortar, and felt instantly inoculated with a military ardour. Sir Cha. Inoculated! I hope your ardour was of a favourable sort ? Olla. Ha ha! That's very well-very well, indeed! Thank you, good sir; I owe you one. We first talked of shooting. He knew my celebrity that way, Sir Charles. I told him the day before I had killed six brace of birds. I thumped on at the mortar. We then talked of physic. I told him the day before I had killed-lost, I mean, -six brace of patients. I thumped on at the mortar, eyeing him all the while; for he looked very flashy, to be sure; and I felt an itching to belong to the corps. The medical and military both deal in death, you know; so 'twas natural. He, he! Do you take, good sir-do you take? Sir Cha. Take? Oh, nobody can miss. Olla. He then talked of the corps itself; said it was sickly; and if a professional person would administer to the health of the Association--dose the men and drench the horse-he could perhaps procure him a cornetcy. Sir Cha. Well, you jumped at the offer? Olla. Jumped! I jumped over the counter, kicked down Churchwarden Posh's cathartic into the pocket of Lieutenant Grains' small scarlet jacket, tastily turned up with a rhubarb-coloured lapelle; embraced him and his offer; and I am now Cornet Ollapod, apothecary at the Galen's Head, of the Association Corps of Cavalry, at your service. Sir Cha. I wish you joy of your appointment. You may now distil water for the shop from the laurels you gather in the field. Olla. Water for-oh! laurel water-he, he! Come, that's very well-very well indeed! Thank you, good sir; I owe you one. Why, I fancy fame will follow when the poison of a small mistake I made has ceased to operate. Sir Cha. A mistake? Olla. Having to attend Lady Kitty Carbuncle on a grand field-day, I clapped a pint bottle of her ladyship's diet-drink into one of my holsters, intending to proceed to the patient after the exercise was over. I reached the martial ground, and jalloped-galloped, I mean-wheeled, and flourished, with great éclat: but when the word "Fire" was given, meaning to pull out my pistol in a terrible hurry, I presented, neck foremost, that confounded diet-drink of Lady Kitty Carbuncle; and the medicine being unfortunately fermented by the jolting of my horse, it forced out the cork with a prodigious pop full in the face of my gallant commander. NOBLE POVERTY. [LAURENCE STERNE. See Page 15.] EFORE I had got half-way He told me in a few words that the best part of his life had passed in the service, in which, after spending a small patrimony, he had obtained a company, and the croir with it; but at the conclusion of the last peace his regiment being reformed, and the whole corps, with those of some other regiments, left without provision, he found himself in a large world without friends, without a livre-" and indeed," said he, "without anything but this"-pointing, as he said it, to his croir. The poor chevalier won my pity, and he finished the scene with winning my esteem too. down the street, I changed my mind. "As I am at Versailles," thought I, "I might as well take a view of the town." So I pulled the cord, and ordered the coachman to drive round some of the principal streets. "I suppose the town is not very large ?" said I. The coachman begged pardon for setting me right, and told me it was very superb, and that numbers of the first dukes, and marquises, and counts had hotels: the Count de B-, of whom the bookseller at the Quai de Conti had spoke so handsomely the night before, came instantly into my mind. "And why should I not go," thought I, "to the Count de B--, who has so high an idea of English books, and Englishmen, and tell him my story?" So I seeing a man standing with a basket on the other side of the street, as if he had something to sell, I bid La Fleur go up to him and inquire for the count's hotel. La Fleur returned a little pale; and told me it was a chevalier de St. Louis selling pâtés. "It is impossible, La Fleur!" said I. La Fleur could no more account for the phenomenon than myself; but persisted in his story: he had seen the croit set in gold, with its red ribbon, he said, tied to his button-hole; and had looked into the basket, and had seen the pâtés which the chevalier was selling. Such a reverse in a man's life awakens a better principle than curiosity: I got out of the remise, and went towards him. He was begirt with a clean linen apron, which fell below his knees, and with a sort of a bib that went half-way up his breast; upon the top of this, but a little below the hem, hung his croie. His basket of little pâtés was covered over with a white damask napkin another of the same kind was spread at the bottom; and there was a look of propreté and neatness throughout, that one might have bought his pâtés of him as much from appetite as sentiment. He made an offer of them to neither, but stood still with them at the corner of an hotel, for those to buy who chose it, without solicitation. He was about forty-eight-of a sedate look, something approaching to gravity. I did not wonder. I went up rather to the basket than him, and having lifted up the napkin and taken one of his pâtés in my hand, I begged he would explain the appearance which affected me. The king, he said, was the most generous of princes; but his generosity could neither relieve nor reward every one, and it was only his misfortune to be amongst the number. He had a little wife, he said, whom he loved, who did the patisserie; and added, he felt no dishonour in defending her and himself from want in this way, unless Providence had offered him a better. It would be wicked to withhold a pleasure from the good, in passing over what happened to this poor chevalier of St. Louis about nine months after. It seems he usually took his stand near the iron gates which led up to the palace; and as his crois had caught the eye of numbers, numbers had made the same inquiry which I had done. He told them the same story, and always with so much modesty and good sense, that it had reached at last the king's ears; who learning the chevalier had been a gallant officer, and respected by the whole regiment, broke up his little trade by a pension of fifteen hundred livres-a-year. As I have told this to please the reader, I beg he will allow me to relate another, to please my. self: the two stories reflect light upon each other, and 'tis a pity they should be parted. I stop not to tell the causes which gradually brought the house of D'E- in Brittany into decay. The Marquis d'E- had fought up against his condition with great firmness, wishing to preserve and still show to the world some little fragments of what his ancestors had been-their indiscretions had put it out of his power. There was enough left for the little exigencies of obscurity: but he had two boys who looked up to him for light-he thought they deserved it. He had tried his sword-it could not open the waythe mounting was too expensive-and simple economy was not a match for it: there was no resource but commerce. In any other province in France save Brittany, this was smiting the root for ever of the little trea his pride and affection wished to see re-blossom. THE RETIRED CAT. But in Brittany there being a provision for this, he availed himself of it; and taking an occasion when the states were assembled at Rennes, the marquis, attended with his two boys, entered the court; and having pleaded the right of an ancient law of the duchy, which, though seldom claimed, he said, was no less in force, he took his sword from his side: "Here," said he, "take it; and be trusty guardians of it till better times put me in condition to reclaim it." The president accepted the marquis's swordhe stayed a few minutes to see it deposited in the archives of his house, and departed. The marquis and his whole family embarked the next day for Martinique; and in about nineteen or twenty years of successful application to business --with some unlooked-for bequests from distant branches of his house-returned home to reclaim his nobility, and to support it. It was an incident of good fortune which will never happen to any traveller but a sentimental one, that I should be at Rennes at the very time of this solemn requisition: I call it solemn-it was so to me. The marquis entered the court with his whole 343 family: he supported his lady-his eldest son supported his sister, and his youngest was at the other extreme of the line next his mother. He put his handkerchief to his face twice. There was a dead silence. When the marquis had approached within six paces of the tribunal, he gave the marchioness to his youngest son, and, advancing three steps before his family, he reclaimed his sword. His sword was given him, and the moment he got it into his hand he drew it almost out of the scabbard: 'twas the shining face of a friend he had once given up-he looked attentively along it, beginning at the hilt, as if to see whether it was the same, when observing a little rust which it had contracted near the point, he brought it near his eye, and bending his head down over it, I think I saw a tear fall upon the place: I could not be deceived by what followed. "I shall find," said he, some other way to ges it off." 66 When the marquis had said this, he returned his sword into its scabbard, made a bow to the guardian of it; and, with his wife and daughter and his two sons following him, walked out. Oh, how I envied him his feelings! A POET'S Cat, sedate and grave But love of change it seems, has place, Was cold and comfortless within: She therefore wished instead of those, A drawer, it chanced, at bottom lined But all unconscious whom it held. |