s of all but the
hard-a-weather master, the witty purser, and the obdurate first. The
invalid was apparelled in an ancient roast-beef uniform coat,
bottle-green from age; the waistcoat had flaps indicative of fifty
years' antiquity, and the breeches were indescribable. He wore large
blue-worsted stockings folded up outside above the knee, but carefully
wrinkled and disordered over the calf of the leg, in order to conceal
its healthy mass of muscle. Big as was the doctor, his clothes were
all, as Shakespeare has it, "a world too big," though we cannot finish
the quotation by adding, "for his shrunk shank." Instead of two
lawyers' clerks, the sly rogue had had two industrious snips closeted
with him, for the purpose of enlarging this particular suit of clothes
to the utmost.

"In the name of ten thousand decencies, doctor," exclaimed Mr Farmer,
"who made you that figure?"

"Disease," was the palsied and sepulchral reply.

"But the clothes--the clothes--these incomprehensible clothes?"

"Are good enough to die in."

"But I doubt," said the purser, "whether either they or their wearer be
good enough to die."

There was a laugh, but it was not infectious as respected the occasion
of it. He shook his head mournfully, and said, "The flippancy of rude
health--the inconsiderate laugh of strong youth!"

With much difficulty he permitted himself to be partly carried up the
ladder, and seated in all the dignity of suffering, in a chair in the
fore-cabin, the two assistants standing, one on each side of him, in
mute observation.

It is twelve o'clock--half-past twelve--one--two. The captain is coming
on board--tell the officers--the side is manned--the boatswain pipes--
and the little great man arrives, and, attended by Mr Farmer, enters
the cabin. Prepared as he was for a deception, even he starts back with
surprise at the figure before him.

With one hand upon a shoulder of each of his assistants, the doctor,
with an asthmatical effort, rises.

"Well, doctor, how are you?"

The doctor shook his head.

"Matters have gone a great length, I see."

Another shake, eloquent with suffering and despondency.

"I understand from my friend here" (Mr Farmer and he _were_ friends
sometimes for half an hour together), "that with Christian providence
you have been making your will. Now, my dear doctor, it is true, that
we have hardly been three months associated; but that time, short as it
is, has given me the highest