Dan. What, poticary's stuff?
Dennis. I studied it in Doctor Von Quolchigronck's booth, at Plympton. He cured the yellow glanders, and restored prolification to families who wanted an heir. I was of mighty use to him as an assistant.
Dan. Were you indeed!
Dennis. But, somehow, the doctor and I had a quarrel; so I gave him something, and parted.
Dan. And what didst thee give him, pray?
Dennis. I gave him a black-eye; and set up for myself at Lestweithel; where Mr. Skinnygauge, the exciseman, was in his honeymoon.—Poor soul! he was my patient, and died one day: but his widow had such a neat notion of my subscriptions, that in three weeks, she was Mrs. Brulgruddery.
Dan. He, he! so you jumped into the old man's money?
Dennis. Only a dirty hundred pounds. Then her brother-in-law, bad luck to him! kept the Red Cow, upon Muckslush Heath, till his teeth chatter'd him out of the world, in an ague.
Dan. Why, that be this very house.
Dennis. Ould Nick fly away with the roof of it! I took the remainder of the lease, per advice of my bride, Mrs. Brulgruddery: laid out her goodlooking hundred pound for the furniture, and the goodwill; bought three pigs, that are going into a consumption; took a sarvingman——