Put out the light, and then put.—Shakspeare.
THE evening arrived on which the gentlemen, named in the last chapter, were to meet in the room of Mr. John Spout.
Mr. Spout was there, awaiting the arrival of his friends. He was seated
at the end of a table, in a large easy-chair, in his dressing-gown. Before him, on the table, were several written papers. The apartment was one of moderate dimensions, neatly carpeted, and, with plenty of furniture, unobjectionable in quality and taste. On the walls were suspended various pictures, engravings, fencing-foils, and masks, boxing-gloves, antique models, Indian ornaments, plaster casts of legs, arms, hands, feet, &c. On either side of the table were two chairs, placed there, evidently, in anticipation of the arrival of his friends.
Several pipe-stems protruded from a pasteboard box, which was on the table. It required no unusual shrewdness to guess at the contents, and to rightly determine that it was filled with the best-abused, and, at the same time, best-used weed known.
One by one, the other gentlemen arrived, and were ushered by the housekeeper into Mr. Spout's apartment. They sat, engaged in discussing tobacco and the events of the day. At length, Mr. Dropper inquired of Mr. Spout if he had as yet fully elaborated the idea which, on the occasion of the previous meeting, had seemed to weigh so heavily on his mind?
"I was about to advert to the subject," said Mr. Spout. "It has engaged my undivided attention up to the present time, and the idea and plan based upon it are sufficiently perfected to satisfy myself."
"Trot it out," said Boggs, "we are all attention."