“It is remarkable, Mr. Feeder,” said the Doctor, beginning again slowly, “that the Romans, in those gorgeous and profuse entertainments of which we read in the days of the Emperors, when luxury had attained a height unknown before or since, and when whole provinces were ravaged to supply the splendid means of one Imperial Banquet----” Here the offender, who had been swelling and straining, and waiting in vain for a full stop, broke out violently. “Johnson,” said Mr. Feeder, in a low, reproachful voice, “take some water.” The Doctor, looking very stern, made a pause until the water was brought, and then resumed: “And when, Mr. Feeder----” But Mr. Feeder, who saw that Johnson must break out again, and who knew that the Doctor would never come to a period before the young gentlemen until he had finished all he meant to say, couldn’t keep his eye off Johnson; and thus was caught in the act of not looking at the Doctor, who consequently stopped. “I beg your pardon, sir,” said Mr. Feeder, reddening. “I beg your pardon, Doctor Blimber.” “And when,” said the Doctor, raising his voice, “when, sir, as we read, and have no reason to doubt--incredible as it may appear to the vulgar of our time--the brother of Vitellius prepared for him a feast, in which were served, of fish, two thousand dishes----” “Take some water, Johnson--dishes, sir,” said Mr. Feeder. “Of various sorts of fowl, five thousand dishes.” “Or try a crust of bread,” said Mr. Feeder. “And one dish,” pursued Doctor Blimber, raising his voice still higher as he looked all round the table, “called, from its enormous dimensions, the Shield of Minerva, and made, among other costly ingredients, of the brains of pheasants----” “Ow, ow, ow!” (from Johnson). “Woodcocks,----” “Ow, ow, ow!” “The sounds of the fish called scari,----” “You’ll burst some vessel in your head,” said Mr. Feeder. “You had better let it come.” “And the spawn of the lamprey, brought from the Carpathian Sea,” pursued the Doctor, in his severest voice; “when we read of costly entertainments such as these, and still remember, that we have a Titus,----” “What would be your mother’s feelings if you died of apoplexy!” said Mr. Feeder. “A Domitian,----” “And you’re blue, you know,” said Mr. Feeder. “A Nero, a Tiberius, a Caligula, a Heliogabalus, and many more,” pursued the Doctor; “it is, Mr. Feeder--if you are doing me the honor to attend--remarkable; VERY remarkable, sir----” But Johnson, unable to suppress it any longer, burst at that moment into such an overwhelming fit of coughing, that, although both his immediate neighbors thumped him on the back, and Mr. Feeder himself held a glass of water to his lips, and the butler walked him up and down several times between his own chair and the sideboard, like a sentry, it was full five minutes before he was moderately composed. Then there was a profound silence.