long been broken, while the iron bars retain all their original
strength. Through this opening come the sound of passing footsteps in
the public street, and the voices of children at play. The furniture
consists of a bed, or rather an old sack of barley straw, thrown down in
the corner farthest from the door, and a chair and table, both aged and
infirm, and leaning against the side of the room, besides lending a
friendly support to each other. The atmosphere is stifled and of an ill
smell, as if it had been kept close prisoner for half a century, and had
lost all its pure and elastic nature by feeding the tainted breath of
the vicious and the sighs of the unfortunate. Such is the present abode
of the man of medicine and politics, and his own appearance forms no
contrast to the accompaniments. His wig is unpowdered, out of curl, and
put on awry; the dust of many weeks has worked its way into the web of
his coat and small-clothes, and his knees and elbows peep forth to ask
why they are so ill clad; his stockings are ungartered, his shoes down
at the heel, his waistcoat is without a button, and discloses a shirt as
dingy as the remnant of snow in a showery April day. His shoulders have
become rounder, and his whole person is more bent and drawn together,
since we last saw him, and his face has exchanged the glory of wit and
humor for a sheepish dulness. At intervals, the Doctor walks the room,
with an irregular and shuffling pace; anon, he throws himself flat on
the sack of barley straw, muttering very reprehensible expressions
between his teeth; then again he starts to his feet, and journeying from
corner to corner, finally sinks into the chair, forgetful of its three-
legged infirmity till it lets him down upon the floor. The grated
window, his only medium of intercourse with the world, serves but to
admit additional vexations. Every few moments the steps of the
passengers are heard to pause, and some well-known face appears in the
free sunshine behind the iron bars, brimful of mirth and drollery, the
owner whereof stands on tiptoe to tickle poor Dr. Bullivant with a