502 PORTRAIT-GALLERY OF OLD BACHELORS. 



the married man, and here is Benedict, the Bachelor; the first 

 seated in the midst of his family, with his youngest child crowing on 

 his knee, whilst he is singing, in evident happiness, some simple 

 ballad for its amusement ; another, somewhat older, stands beside him ; 

 nd a third is riding on a stick round the room : his wife, with a face 

 radiant with smiles, is looking fondly at him, and pouring him out an 

 extra glass of wine, and wondering what she can do to please him, 

 a certain sign that she will succeed : his whole house is orderly and 

 cheerful, his servants in proper order, and altogether things look 

 comfortable. Now reverse the picture, and here is the Bachelor a 

 goodly figure, indeed fat as an Alderman, and labouring uuder a 

 severe attack of podagra, with the ailing member supported on a 

 chair. 



Ay, here he is, indeed, alternately shivering as a cold autum- 

 nal blast rushes through his open door; and then watching with 

 trembling anxiety the clouds of ashes which the wind whirls in 

 eddies from the unswept hearth and the extinguished fire, lest any 

 particle should fall on his tortured toe. TsTow he bellows with all his 

 might for his footman or housekeeper, to bring fire and close the 

 doors; for, to his imagination, it seems that every door in the house is 

 open. Call away. Old Boy; your servants will wait upon you 

 when they have played out their play, and have taken care to have 

 an excuse by accidentally placing your hand-bell beyond reach ; 

 whilst, if your existence depended upon it, you durst not set your 

 foot on the carpet to pull the bell-rope. Yes, yes, call away, and 

 cast a wistful eye at the grate and the door : your housekeeper is 

 closeted with a bottle of strong waters; your footman and house- 

 maid are pathetically deploring your condition in the attic ; and 

 Cooky and John Gardener are playing at hy-spy in the shrub- 

 bery: therefore call away, and if any of them come near you for 

 the next two hours, we will forfeit our best hat. Let us listen to 

 his soliloquy : 



'* Ha, what a horrid twinge! It's dreadfully cold, and the fire *s 

 out puff puft that piece of floating soot will fall on my toe puff, 

 puff just missed ho ha ! surely the skin 's bursting. Gracious 

 heavens! where are the servants? T am actually perishing with 

 cold, and would give a guinea for a glass of wine there it stands 

 within a couple of yards, but 1 am chained to the spot. Mrs. 

 Armstrong! James! Sally! Good God! I am deserted! would 

 that the devil would fly away with the whole set of careless, cruel 

 wretches! James, I say, you scoundrel, James ! no answer, and 

 the hall-door I am sure is just opened the house will be robbed, 

 that's certain. Ha, ho! ha, ho ! that's terrible, breaking on the 

 wheel must be easy in comparison : and here is the doctor's abo- 

 minable physic nauseous poison and of no more efficacy than 

 bilge- water: five bottles have I swallowed, and am worse than 

 before, though he swore it was a certain cure ho, ha ! I wish he 

 were here, 1 would throw it at his head ho, ho ! 



' Oh, horrid gout ! detested by the gods 

 . Gout, rueful gout !' 



