And their pursuits are just the same
As pleased my youthful spirit.
FOOTNOTE:
[19] Dolce far niente.
CHAPTER XXX. A DUBLIN DENTIST.
Several friends have suggested that, even at the risk of being considered discursive or irregular in the arrangement of my Gleanings and Reminiscences, I should not conclude without narrating a few of the incidents which my intimacy with the late Patrick Brophy, of Dawson Street, the State Dentist, enabled me to witness or to hear described by him.
He had commenced industrial avocations as an apprentice to a jeweller in Skinner Row, and became singularly skilful in the execution of articles in the precious metals, especially in the making of necklaces or setting of gems. He subsequently obtained employment from a German dentist who lived in Golden Lane; and from him he acquired a practical knowledge of the operative means necessary for the relief of personal suffering by stuffing or extracting teeth. The German returned to his native country in 1815, and Brophy immediately succeeded to his Dublin business. When I became acquainted with him, he was living in Dawson Street, and reputed to be in the most extensive practice of a profession for which he had not received any special preliminary instruction. He was extremely convivial, but far more willing to give than to receive invitations; and although his table was most profusely supplied with the choicest wines and spirits, I never perceived in him the slightest indication of intemperance. Amongst his intimates the most intimate was a gentleman who resided in the town of Galway, and whose person was so very bulky as to obtain for him the soubriquet of "The Great Western." He required no invitations to Brophy's table, for whenever he visited Dublin, he became a daily dinner guest during his stay; and certainly his host did not hesitate to make him the subject of tricks or bantering. At one time, Brophy had just returned from a Parisian trip, and brought home two or three shawl or scarf-pins made of polished steel, and having large mother-of-pearl heads. The "Great Western" was in town, and was in his usual place at dinner time, on a day when I happened to be a guest. Pat had a dark scarf on his neck, and it was fastened with one of the Parisian pins which I afterwards heard had cost about tenpence. His bulky friend had a finger ring, on which there was one diamond, and soon after dinner, he took it off, and handed it to Brophy, saying—
"Pat, you are considered a very competent judge of diamonds; what would you value that ring at?"