"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." The company again left the Valetudinarian for their social enjoyments; and not long after left Mrs. Blunt's for their respective homes. XIII. _THE WHISPERER._ "And when they talk of him they shake their heads, And whisper one another in the ear; And he that speaks doth gripe the hearer's wrist, Whilst he that hears makes fearful action With wrinkled brows, with nods, and rolling eyes." SHAKESPEARE. His stock of information is always of the most original kind, and no want of it into the bargain. No one is acquainted with the facts treasured in his memory but himself. Nor does he want any one else to know, excepting a particular friend in whom he has the greatest confidence. And he will only inform him in a whisper, lest any other should hear; and this upon the sacred condition that he will never discover the secret to his nearest friend, not even to the wife of his bosom. And lo, when the grand secret is divulged into his inclining and attentive ear, it is either an old story which everybody knows, or a communication of gossip about some one in whom he has no interest whatever.