32 LEAVES FROM A LOG. 



recreation to his guest, as witnessing the punishment of a slave, 

 although he had one species of barbarity in his composition. The 

 fact is, Mr. Proser was what is termed "a bore;" a downright button- 

 holding " bore ;" one who consumed twenty cubic feet of atmos- 

 pheric air per diem, in talk ! the subject of which might have been 

 condensed in a nutshell. 



He had a sister living with him, Miss Belinda ; she was many 

 Years younger than he. She, too, had a foible: that is to say, she was 

 passionately fond of vocal and instrumental music; although nature 

 in many respects bountiful to her, had given her a shrieking voice, 

 and denied her that talent which musicians call " an ear ;" still she 

 persevered torturing her C( Broadwood," and murdering songs to that 

 degree, that, could their composers have heard her, they would 

 certainly have been seized with the cholera morbus. A lucky recol- 

 lection now crossed my memory. Proser, I believe, was in town, and 

 I had heard that the lady's piano was broken, so that I might call in and 

 dine at Cane Garden without having my years agonized with the 

 discourse of Proser, or the tuneless lays of his sister. With this 

 thought I was so elated, that I gave my horse the spur, who instantly 

 carried me through a piece of copse that lies between the estate of 

 Grumbleton and Cane Garden. Scarcely had I reached the small 

 tract which leads from the public road to the mansion, ere (oh, 

 terrible sound !) my ears were assailed with what I knew to be the 

 effects of Miss Belinda's attempts at strumming treble and base at her 

 piano-forte ; to say that her notes mocked all tune, is not saying too 

 much, while 



" Panting time toiled after her in vain." 



While I was debating the question of proceeding or not, I felt 

 some one slap me heartily on the back. 



" What, Master Tropic, listening enraptured to the angelic notes 

 of Miss Belinda?" The words were addressed to me by Doctor 

 Whirlwhim, who, mounted on a mule, had unperceived overtaken me. 

 After a friendly salute, I briefly told the Doctor, that I was thinking 

 of my dinner. 



" If that be the case," said the Doctor, " come home with me ; 

 my cottage is not above a furlong from this: and I will give you such 

 a dinner, that it is not likely you have ever eaten before." I gladly 

 accepted the Doctor's invitation, for Whirlwhim might be called an 

 amateur cook : he was continually talking of the delights of the 

 table, or using his scientific knowledge for the improvement of the 

 culinary art. He was perpetually finding out new sauces, and 

 methods of preserving meats and vegetables ; many are the dishes of 

 his discovery. Some of them were rather whimsical. 



On went the Doctor and myself, and in about two minutes we 

 came to a very handsome villa which he called his cottage : it was a 

 few yards off the road: we dismounted, and the Doctor ordered his 

 groom to give a feed of Indian corn, some Guinea grass, and water 

 to my horse, to whom it seems, the prophecy of Quaco did not 

 apply. The Doctor after giving some orders soon joined me, and we 

 entered into conversation on his favorite subject, the enjoyments of 



