e began to
complain of the fatigue of business; and was fond of riding out "to
look at his estate." His little expeditions to his lands were attended
with a bustle and parade that created a sensation throughout the
neighbourhood. His wall-eyed horse stood, stamping and whisking off
the flies, for a full hour before the house. Then the doctor's
saddle-bags would be brought out and adjusted; then, after a little
while, his cloak would be rolled up and strapped to the saddle; then
his umbrella would be buckled to the cloak; while, in the meantime, a
group of ragged boys, that observant class of beings, would gather
before the door. At length, the doctor would issue forth, in a pair of
jack-boots that reached above his knees, and a cocked hat flapped down
in front. As he was a short, fat man, he took some time to mount into
the saddle; and when there, he took some time to have the saddle and
stirrups properly adjusted, enjoying the wonder and admiration of the
urchin crowd. Even after he had set off, he would pause in the middle
of the street, or trot back two or three times to give some parting
orders; which were answered by the housekeeper from the door, or Dolph
from the study, or the black cook from the cellar, or the chambermaid
from the garret-window; and there were generally some last words
bawled after him, just as he was turning the corner.

The whole neighbourhood would be aroused by this pomp and
circumstance. The cobbler would leave his last; the barber would
thrust out his frizzed head, with a comb sticking in it; a knot would
collect at the grocer's door; and the word would be buzzed from one
end of the street to the other, "The doctor's riding out to his
country-seat."

These were golden moments for Dolph. No sooner was the doctor out of
sight, than pestle and mortar were abandoned; the laboratory was left
to take care of itself, and the student was off on some madcap frolic.

Indeed, it must be confessed, the youngster, as he grew up, seemed in
a fair way to fulfil the prediction of the old claret-coloured
gentleman. He was the ringleader of all holiday sports, and midnight
gambols; ready for all kinds of mischievous pranks, and harebrained
adventures.

There is nothing so troublesome as a hero on a small scale, or,
rather, a hero in a small town. Dolph soon became the abhorrence of
all drowsy, housekeeping old citizens, who hated noise, and had no
relish for waggery. The good dames, too, considered him