ssure his
good friend that he was extremely sensible of his good friend's regard
on all occasions for the best interests of Society; and he considered
that he was at once consulting those interests and expressing the
feeling of Society, when he wished him continued prosperity, continued
increase of riches, and continued things in general.

Bishop then betook himself up-stairs, and the other magnates gradually
floated up after him until there was no one left below but Mr Merdle.
That gentleman, after looking at the table-cloth until the soul of the
chief butler glowed with a noble resentment, went slowly up after the
rest, and became of no account in the stream of people on the grand
staircase. Mrs Merdle was at home, the best of the jewels were hung out
to be seen, Society got what it came for, Mr Merdle drank twopennyworth
of tea in a corner and got more than he wanted.

Among the evening magnates was a famous physician, who knew everybody,
and whom everybody knew. On entering at the door, he came upon Mr Merdle
drinking his tea in a corner, and touched him on the arm.

Mr Merdle started. 'Oh! It's you!'

'Any better to-day?'

'No,' said Mr Merdle, 'I am no better.'

'A pity I didn't see you this morning. Pray come to me to-morrow, or let
me come to you.'

'Well!' he replied. 'I will come to-morrow as I drive by.' Bar and
Bishop had both been bystanders during this short dialogue, and as Mr
Merdle was swept away by the crowd, they made their remarks upon it
to the Physician. Bar said, there was a certain point of mental strain
beyond which no man could go; that the point varied with various
textures of brain and peculiarities of constitution, as he had had
occasion to notice in several of his learned brothers; but the point of
endurance passed by a line's breadth, depression and dyspepsia ensued.
Not to intrude on the sacred mysteries of medicine, he took it, now
(with the jury droop and persuasive eye-glass), that this was Merdle's
case? Bishop said that when he was a young man, and had fallen for a
brief space into the habit of writing sermons on Saturdays, a habit
which all young sons of the church should sedulously avoid, he had
frequently been sensible of a depression, arising as he supposed from an
over-taxed intellect, upon which the yolk of a new-laid egg, beaten up
by the good woman in whose house he at that time lodged, with a glass
of sound sherry, nutmeg, and powdered sugar acted like a charm. Witho