“You hear, sir,” said Doolittle, addressing the Pythagorean; “you perceive that I am adopting your system?”

“Mr. Doolittle,” replied Cooke, “from this day forth you are my physician—­I intrust you with the management of my rheumatism; but, in the meantime, I think the room is devilishly cold.”

Captain Culverin now entered, swathed up, and, as was evident, somewhat tipsy.

“Eh! confound me, philosopher, your hand,” he exclaimed, putting out his own to shake hands with him.

“I can’t, sir,” replied Cooke; “I am afflicted with rheumatism.  You seem unwell, captain; but if you gave up spirituous liquors—­such as wine and usquebaugh—­you would find yourself the better for it.”

“What does all this mean?” asked Manifold.  “At all events Doolittle’s a rat.  A vegetable diet, a year of famine, toast, and water—­O Lord!”

Dinner, however, came, and the little waggish doctor could not, for the life of him, avoid his jokes.  Cooke’s dish of vegetables was placed for him at a particular part of the table; but the doctor, taking Manifold by the hand, placed him in the philosopher’s seat, whom he afterwards set before a magnificent sirloin of beef—­for, truth to speak, the little man acted as a kind of master of the ceremonies to the company at Ballyspellan.

“What’s this?” exclaimed Manifold.  “Perdition! here is nothing but a dish of asparagus before me!  What kind of treatment is this?  Were we not to have a great dinner, Topertoe?  Alexander the Great!”

“And who placed me before a sirloin of beef?” asked the philosopher; “I, who follow the principles of the Great Pythagorean.  I am nearly sick already with the fume of it.  Good heavens! a sirloin of beef before a vegetarian.”

Of course Manifold and the philosopher exchanged places, and the dinner proceeded.  Mr. and.  Mrs. Goodwin were present, but Alice was unable to come, although anxious to do so in order to oblige her parents.  It is unnecessary to describe the gastric feats of Manifold and Topertoe.  The voracity of the former was astonishing, nor was that of the latter much less; and when the dishes were removed and the tables cleared for their compotations, the faces of both gentlemen appeared as if they were about to explode.  The table was now supplied with every variety of liquor, and the conversation began to assume that convivial tone peculiar to such assemblies.  The little doctor was placed between Manifold and the Pythagorean, who, by the way, was exceedingly short-sighted; and on the other side of him sat Parson Topertoe, who seemed to feel something like a reprieve from his gout.  When the liquor was placed on the table, after dinner, the Pythagorean got to his feet, filled a large glass of water, and taking a gulp of it, leaving it about half full, he proceeded as follows: