Remarking on this rencounter, Dashall observed, that the insolence of these fellows was become really a public nuisance. Armed in the panoply of arrogance, they assume the right of the footway, to the ejection, danger, and frequent injury of other passengers; moving in a direct line with loads that sometimes stretch on either side the width of the pavement, they dash onward, careless whom they may run against, or what mischief may ensue. “I would not,” continued Dashall, “class them with beasts of burthen, and confine them to the carriage-way of the street, like other brutes of that description; but I would have them placed under the control of some salutary regulations, and humanized under the dread of punishment.”
The Squire coincided with his friend in opinion, and added, by way of illustration, that it was only a few days since he witnessed a serious accident occasioned by the scandalous conduct of a porter: the fellow bore on his shoulders a chest of drawers, a corner of which, while he forced his way along the pavement, struck a young lady a stunning blow on the head, bringing her violently to the ground, and falling against a shop window, one of her hands went through a pane of glass, by which she was severely cut; thus sustaining a double injury, either of which might have been attended with fatal consequences.
The three friends had now gained the fashionable lounge of Bond-street, whence turning into Conduit-street, they entered Limmer's Coffee-house, for the purpose of closing, by refreshment, the morning's excursion.
Here Dashall recognized an old acquaintance in the person of an eminent physician, who, after an interchange of civilities, resumed his attention to the daily journals.
In the same box with this gentleman, and directly opposite, sat another, whose health was apparently on the decline, who finding that the ingenious physician had occasionally dropped into this coffee-house, had placed himself vis-a-vis the doctor, and made many indirect efforts to withdraw his attention from the newspaper to examine the index of his (the invalid's) constitution. He at last ventured a bold push at once, in the following terms: “Doctor,” said he, “I have for a long time been very far from being well, and as I belong to an office, where I am obliged to attend everyday, the complaints I have prove very troublesome to me, and I would be glad to remove them.”—The doctor laid down his paper, and regarded his patient with a steady eye, while he proceeded. “I have but little appetite, and digest what I eat very poorly; I have a strange swimming in my head,” &c. In short, after giving the doctor a full quarter of an hour's detail of all his symptoms, he concluded the state of his case with a direct question:—“Pray, doctor, what shall I take?” The doctor, in the act of resuming the newspaper, gave him the following laconic prescription:—“Take, why, take advice!”
This colloquy, and its ludicrous result, having been perfectly audible to the company present, afforded considerable entertainment, of which the manoeuvring invalid seemed in no degree willing to partake, for he presently made his exit, without even thanking the doctor for his gratuitous advice.{1}
1 Limmeb's Hotel.—This justly esteemed Hotel was much frequented by the late unfortunate Lord Camelford. Entering the coffee-room one evening, meanly attired, as he often was, he sat down to peruse the papers of the day. Soon after came in a “dashing fellow,” a “first-rate blood,” who threw himself into the opposite seat of the same box with Lord C, and in a most consequential tone hallowed out, “Waiter! bring in a pint of Madeira, and a couple of wax candles, and put them in the next box.” He then drew to him Lord C.'s candle, and set himself to read. His Lordship glanced at him a look of indignation, but exerting his optics a little more, continued to decypher his paper. The waiter soon re- appeared, and with a multitude of obsequious bows, announced his having completed the commands of the gentleman, who immediately lounged round into his box. Lord Camelford having finished his paragraph, called out in a mimic tone to that of Mr.——-, “Waiter! bring me a pair of snuffers.” These were quickly brought, when his Lordship laid down his paper, walked round to the box in which Mr.——-was, snuffed out both the candles, and leisurely returned to his seat. Boiling with rage and fury, the indignant beau roared out, “Waiter! waiter! waiter! who the devil is this fellow, that dares thus to insult a gentleman? Who is he? What is he? What do they call him?”—“Lord Camelford, Sir,” said the waiter.—“Who? Lord Camelford!” returned the former, in a tone of voice scarcely audible; horror-struck at the recollection of his own impertinence, and almost doubting whether he was still in existence—“Lord Camelford!!! What have I to pay?” On being told, he laid down his score, and actually stole away, without daring to taste his Madeira.
The repast ended, the friends separated; Sir Felix to rejoin his august relative at their lodgings, and arrange with her preparations for the entertainment of Tom and Bob, and these two gentlemen also returning homewards to dress for the important occasion.
Passing the house of his tailor, the Baronet stept in, and desired Mr. Snip to send to his lodgings, any time in the course of the evening, for the last new suit, for the purpose of alteration, as had been already pointed out.
Miss Macgilligan had preceded her nephew in reaching home, and gave him, on his arrival, an appropriate and edifying lecture on a three-fold subject, embracing—petulancy,—respect to superiors,—and veneration for the memory of our ancestors.