I have known in the course of my life, not the least among which was the
fact, that, exactly when Turkey displayed his fullest beams from his red
and radiant countenance, just then, too, at that critical moment, began
the daily period when I considered his business capacities as seriously
disturbed for the remainder of the twenty-four hours. Not that he was
absolutely idle, or averse to business, then; far from it. The
difficulty was, he was apt to be altogether too energetic. There was a
strange, inflamed, flurried, flighty recklessness of activity about him.
He would be incautious in dipping his pen into his inkstand. All his
blots upon my documents were dropped there after twelve o'clock,
meridian. Indeed, not only would he be reckless, and sadly given to
making blots in the afternoon, but, some days, he went further, and was
rather noisy. At such times, too, his face flamed with augmented
blazonry, as if cannel coal had been heaped on anthracite. He made an
unpleasant racket with his chair; spilled his sand-box; in mending his
pens, impatiently split them all to pieces, and threw them on the floor
in a sudden passion; stood up, and leaned over his table, boxing his
papers about in a most indecorous manner, very sad to behold in an
elderly man like him. Nevertheless, as he was in many ways a most
valuable person to me, and all the time before twelve o'clock,
meridian, was the quickest, steadiest creature, too, accomplishing a
great deal of work in a style not easily to be matched--for these
reasons, I was willing to overlook his eccentricities, though, indeed,
occasionally, I remonstrated with him. I did this very gently, however,
because, though the civilest, nay, the blandest and most reverential of
men in the morning, yet, in the afternoon, he was disposed, upon
provocation, to be slightly rash with his tongue--in fact, insolent.
Now, valuing his morning services as I did, and resolved not to lose
them--yet, at the same time, made uncomfortable by his inflamed ways
after twelve o'clock--and being a man of peace, unwilling by my