[11]. How admirably does Horace describe the grievance of a bore catching hold of your button, and making the proprietor a prisoner till his speech is expended. Doctor T—— told me that the satire came into his head whilst Sir John had him in hold, and that in his hurry to emancipate himself, he made a large cut in a new surtout, and quite spoiled its beauty.
The doctor could stand this no longer, and said, “I know nothing about wall-eyed horses, Sir John.”—Indeed, being now hopeless, he made the second of the three bows he had determined to depart with; but he found his button still in custody between Sir John’s fingers, and was necessitated to suspend his exit, or leave it behind him.
“A plan has occurred to me, doctor,” said the baronet, thoughtfully, “which may not only liquidate my just and honourable debt to you for attendance and operations, but must, if you are as skilful as I think you are, eventually realise you a pretty fortune.”
This in a moment changed the countenance of the doctor, as a smouldering fire, when it gets a blast of the bellows, instantly blazes up and begins to generate its hydrogen. “And pray, sir,” asked the impatient physician, “what plan may this be? what new bank are you thinking of?”
“’Tis no bank,” said Sir John; “its a much better thing than any bank, for the more you draw, the richer you’ll be.”
The doctor’s eyelids opened wide; his eyebrows became elevated, and he drew his ear close to the proposer, that he might not lose a single word of so precious an exposé.
“You know,” said Sir John, “though you are a Sarnion (Guernsey-man) by birth, you must know, as all the world knows, that the name of the Burkes or O’Bourkes (Irlandois), and their castle of Glinsk, have been established and celebrated in Ireland some dozen centuries.”
“I have heard the name, sir,” said the doctor, rather peevishly.
“Be assured ’tis the very first cognomen in Ireland,” said Sir John.