"That's my inwariable beverage, Mr. Suggett."
"Two sixes, gentlemen?" said the waiter.
"No," answered Mr. Whittingham, solemnly; "two shillings' worth, to begin with."
The liquor was supplied, and when the two gentlemen had tasted it, and found it to their liking, they glanced around the room to survey the company. It soon appeared that Mr. Suggett was well known to many of the gentlemen present; for, upon making his survey, he acknowledged, with a nod or a short phrase, the bows or salutations of those with whom he was acquainted.
"Ah! Mr. Guffins, always up in the same corner, eh?" said he, addressing a middle-aged man in seedy black: "got a new work in the press, 'spose? You literary men contrive to enjoy yourselves, I know. How do you do, Mr. Mac Chizzle?" looking towards a short, pock-marked man, with a quick grey eye, and black hair combed upright off his forehead: "how get on the clients? Plenty of business, eh? Ah! you lawyers always contrive to do well. Mr. Drummer, your servant, sir. Got a good congregation still, sir?"
"The chapel thriveth well, I thank you—as well as can be expected in these times of heathen abominations," answered a demure-looking middle-aged gentleman, who was clad in deep black and wore a white neck-cloth, which seemed (together with the condition of his shirt and stockings) to denote that although he had gained the confidence of his flock, he had certainly lost that of his washer-woman. After having taken a long draught of a pint of half-and-half which stood before him, he added, "There is a many savoury vessels in my congregation—reputable, pious, and prayer-full people, which pays regular for their sittings and fears the Lord."
"Well, I am glad of that," ejaculated Mr. Suggett. "But, ah!" he cried, observing a thin white-haired old gentleman, with huge silver spectacles hanging half-way down his nose,—"I'm glad to see Mr. Cobbington here. How gets on the circulating library, eh—sir?"
"Pretty well—pretty well, thank'ee," returned the bookseller: "pretty well—considering."
A great many people qualify their observations and answers by the addition of the word "considering;" but they seldom vouchsafe an explanation of what is to be considered. Sometimes they use the phrase "considering all things;" and then the mind has so much to consider, that it cannot consider any one thing definitively. It would be much more straightforward and satisfactory if persons would relieve their friends of all suspense, and say boldly at once, as the case may be, "considering the execution I have got in my house;" or "considering the writ that's out against me;" or even "considering the trifling annoyance of not having a shilling in my pocket, and not knowing where to look for one." But, somehow or another, people never will be candid now-a-days; and Talleyrand was right when he said that "language was given to man to enable him to conceal his thoughts."
But to continue.