black, until the Doctor could revive the memory of most things that had
befallen him by looking at his patchwork-gown, as it hung upon a chair.
And now it was ragged again, and all the fingers that should have mended
it were cold. It had an Eastern fragrance, too, a smell of drugs, strong-
scented herbs, and spicy gums, gathered from the many potent infusions
that had from time to time been spilt over it; so that, snuffing him afar
off, you might have taken Dr. Dolliver for a mummy, and could hardly have
been undeceived by his shrunken and torpid aspect, as he crept nearer.

Wrapt in his odorous and many-colored robe, he took staff in hand, and
moved pretty vigorously to the head of the staircase. As it was somewhat
steep, and but dimly lighted, he began cautiously to descend, putting his
left hand on the banister, and poking down his long stick to assist him in
making sure of the successive steps; and thus he became a living
illustration of the accuracy of Scripture, where it describes the aged as
being "afraid of that which is high,"--a truth that is often found to have
a sadder purport than its external one. Half-way to the bottom, however,
the Doctor heard the impatient and authoritative tones of little Pansie,--
Queen Pansie, as she might fairly have been styled, in reference to her
position in the household,--calling amain for grandpapa and breakfast. He
was startled into such perilous activity by the summons, that his heels
slid on the stairs, the slippers were shuffled off his feet, and he saved
himself from a tumble only by quickening his pace, and coming down at
almost a run.

"Mercy on my poor old bones!" mentally exclaimed the Doctor, fancying
himself fractured in fifty places. "Some of them are broken, surely, and,
methinks, my heart has leaped out of my mouth! What! all right? Well,
well! but Providence is kinder to me than I deserve, prancing down this
steep staircase like a kid of three months old!"