of his perfumes, his rose-water, his cosmetics, tooth-powders, pomanders,
and pomades, the scented memory of which lingered about their toilet-
tables, or came faintly back from the days when they were beautiful. Among
this class of customers there was still a demand for certain comfortable
little nostrums (delicately sweet and pungent to the taste, cheering to
the spirits, and fragrant in the breath), the proper distillation of which
was the airiest secret that the mystic Swinnerton had left behind him.
And, besides, these old ladies had always liked the manners of Dr.
Dolliver, and used to speak of his gentle courtesy behind the counter as
having positively been something to admire; though of later years, an
unrefined, and almost rustic simplicity, such as belonged to his humble
ancestors, appeared to have taken possession of him, as it often does of
prettily mannered men in their late decay.

But it resulted from all these favorable circumstances that the Doctor's
marble mortar, though worn with long service and considerably damaged by a
crack that pervaded it, continued to keep up an occasional intimacy with
the pestle; and he still weighed drachms and scruples in his delicate
scales, though it seemed impossible, dealing with such minute quantities,
that his tremulous fingers should not put in too little or too much,
leaving out life with the deficiency, or spilling in death with the
surplus. To say the truth, his stanchest friends were beginning to think
that Dr. Dolliver's fits of absence (when his mind appeared absolutely to
depart from him, while his frail old body worked on mechanically) rendered
him not quite trustworthy without a close supervision of his proceedings.
It was impossible, however, to convince the aged apothecary of the
necessity for such vigilance; and if anything could stir up his gentle
temper to wrath, or, as oftener happened, to tears, it was the attempt
(which he was marvellously quick to detect) thus to interfere with his
long-familiar business.