weather-beaten tenements which remind you of the times of your
great-grandfather. He was a man of an unoffending, quiet disposition;
the father of a family, though not the head of it,--for in that family
"the hen over-crowed the cock," and the neighbors, when they spake of
the notary, shrugged their shoulders, and exclaimed, "Poor fellow! his
spurs want sharpening." In fine,--you understand me, gentlemen,--he was
hen-pecked.

Well, finding no peace at home, he sought it elsewhere, as was very
natural for him to do; and at length discovered a place of rest, far
beyond the cares and clamors of domestic life. This was a little _Cafe
Estaminet_, a short way out of the city, whither he repaired every
evening to smoke his pipe, drink sugar-water, and play his favorite game
of domino. There he met the boon companions he most loved; heard all the
floating chitchat of the day; laughed when he was in merry mood; found
consolation when he was sad; and at all times gave vent to his
opinions, without fear of being snubbed short by a flat contradiction.

Now, the notary's bosom-friend was a dealer in claret and cognac, who
lived about a league from the city, and always passed his evenings at
the _Estaminet_. He was a gross, corpulent fellow, raised from a
full-blooded Gascon breed, and sired by a comic actor of some reputation
in his way. He was remarkable for nothing but his good-humor, his love
of cards, and a strong propensity to test the quality of his own liquors
by comparing them with those sold at other places.

As evil communications corrupt good manners, the bad practices of the
wine-dealer won insensibly upon the worthy notary; and before he was
aware of it, he found himself weaned from domino and sugar-water, and
addicted to piquet and spiced wine. Indeed, it not unfrequently
happened, that, after a long session at the _Estaminet_, the two friends
grew so urbane that they would waste a full half-hour at the door in
friendly dispute which should conduct the other home.

Though this course of life agreed well enough with the sluggish,
phlegmatic temperament of the wine-dealer, it soon began to play the
very deuse with the more sensitive organization of the notary, and
finally put his nervous system completely out of tune. He lost his
appetite, became gaunt and haggard, and could get no sleep. Legions of
blue-devils haunted him by day, and by night strange faces peeped
through his bed-curtains, and the nightmare snorted i