“Come now, let us have no more talk about Mr. Round, or we shall be catching some of his diseases,” said Miss Crane.
Soon after the above talk had ceased, Mr. Burr took up a copy of Cowper’s poems which lay on the table. He opened on the subject of “Conversation,” and, in reading, came to the part which describes the Valetudinarian. Having read it over to himself, he could not refrain asking permission to read it aloud.
“Although we have dismissed the subject of Mr. Round,” said Mr. Burr, “yet, if the company have no objection, I would like to read from Cowper’s poems a short piece which I think will interest you, as being descriptive of the Valetudinarian, who has been with us this evening.”
General consent being given, Mr. Burr read as follows:—
“Some men employ their health, an ugly trick,
In making known how oft they have been sick;
And give us, in recitals of disease,
A doctor’s troubles, but without his fees;
Relate how many weeks they kept their bed,
How an emetic or cathartic sped;
Nothing is slightly touched, much less forgot,
Nose, ears, and eyes, seem present on the spot.
Now the distemper, spite of draught or pill,
Victorious seemed, and now the doctor’s skill;
And now—alas for unforeseen mishaps!—
They put on a damp nightcap and relapse;
They thought they must have died, they were so bad;
Their peevish hearers almost wish they had.”
“That’s capital,” cried out Mr. Strong.
“It is Mr. Round’s character to a tick,” said Mrs. Blunt, who was better acquainted with him than any one else in the room.
“It seems to me,” said Miss Young, “that Cowper must have had Round before him when he wrote those lines.”
“Cowper is a splendid poet,” observed young Brown, who was rather pedantic; “he is my favourite among the poets. I have been accustomed to read him from my boyhood. I always admire his description of character. Who but a Cowper could have written that admirable extract just given to us by Mr. Burr, and which was read with such elegance?”
“Come,” said Mr. Burr, “give us a tune on the piano, Miss Armstrong.”