“With your permission, most respected sir,” replied the reverend gentleman: then, with a countenance as rueful as if he were about to go forth to the place of execution, he drawled out a lengthy grace in such a droning voice, that one of the lunatics fell fast asleep, and did not wake up again until the savoury odour of a plate of roast duck which was placed before him recalled to him his recollection and his supper.
“How do you find yourself this evening, Mr. Sheepshanks?” inquired Dr. Swinton, after having assured himself that all his guests were duly served. “You were complaining of a bilious attack this morning.”
“Alas! yes, kind sir,” responded the reverend gentleman, in a most doleful tone and with a profound sigh: “it pleased the Lord to ordain that the salmon of which I partook bountifully at yesterday’s dinner should disagree with me—or peradventure it was the cucumber;—but, by the aid of the Divine blessing and the black draught, my dear patron, I have pretty well come round again. Nevertheless, I feel my appetite failing me.”
And as he uttered these words, Mr. Sheepshanks helped himself to about a pound and a quarter of pigeon-pie—that being his second attack on the same dish.
“I shall be happy to assist you to some roast duck, Mr. Sheepshanks,” said the Doctor, after a pause of about seven minutes.
“It would be an act of rudeness to decline an offer which bespeaks such delicate attentions on your part, worthy sir,” returned the pious gentleman. “I have just managed to pick a morsel of this savoury pie; and I will endeavour to get through the wing of a duck, with heaven’s assistance.”
“So you shall,” said the Doctor. “In the meantime I recommend you to take a little wine—for your stomach’s sake.”
“Ah! that was salutary advice which Paul gave to Timothy—‘a little wine for the stomach’s sake,’” drawled out the excellent Mr. Sheepshanks;—and to prove that he really thought so, he filled a tumbler with claret and imbibed the delicious draught without a pause.
By this time a plate, containing the wing, leg, and part of the breast of a duck, was placed before him; and, with a hollow groan as if he thought he should never get through it all, he commenced the attack.
We may here observe that the Doctor, who was a widower, was fond of good living himself, and was well pleased when he found any one inclined to keep him company in the enjoyment of the pleasures of the table. For this reason he especially admired the Reverend Mr. Sheepshanks; and he well knew that when his chaplain pretended to have no appetite at all, he was in reality prepared to do ample justice to every dish. Hence the copious supply of duck which the physician had sent him; and that hospitable gentleman heard with secret pleasure the groan which Mr. Sheepshanks had given, and which was a sure indication that the modesty of the reverend glutton would be so far overcome as to induce him to allow the Doctor to help him again presently.