CHAPTER IV. The sense of death is most in apprehension: Measure for Measure. It was not long past noon, and a July sun was shedding its rays with unusual fervour and brilliancy. Near the great gate of the Old Infirmary, in Shaw's-brow, and sheltered from the oppressive glare by a projecting portion of the building, stood. two young men, fashionably attired, waiting, apparently, for the arrival of some third party, and endeavouring to wile away the tedious interval by friendly chat, but occasionally pausing in dreamy contemplation of the scene before them. The elder, three or four and twenty years of age, was of florid and sanguineous complexion, rather short in stature," and inclined to be corpulent, a propensity which had been increased, even at that early age, by dissipation, late vigils, and intemperate habits. He was a student in the Infirmary. A certain recklessness, too visible in his countenance and deportment, never failed to diminish the favourable impression produced at first sight by his open, good D natured smile. At the moment we introduce him to the reader, he was humming over the burden of a popular song, telling of terrible deeds of daring on the high seas, and breathing defiance to France, Spain, and other enemies of old England; whilst his friend, with his arms folded, seemed lost in reverie. The companions presented a striking contrast in person as well as in mind. The large, dark eyes of the younger lighted up a pale, transparent complexion, of almost feminine delicacy; but the broad forehead, well defined mouth, and full round chin, gave abundant promise of manly energy and decision of character; and his tall and slender figure never appeared to greater advantage than when placed in juxtaposition with the more stunted proportions of his friend. Thoughts of deep and serious interest were surely passing through his mind at that moment, for the prospect presented to his eye, though pretty enough in its way, did not possess sufficient attraction to warrant the fixed, earnest look with which he seemed to honour it. The busy market, with its varied stores of crockery and edibles, which lately occupied that spot, had not then sprung up, and in its place a wild common, covered with patches of heath and furze, stretched over the top of the hill, and though parched up by the intense heat, glowed with a rich golden brown hue in the sun light, throwing into bold relief the dark outline of the picturesque old Townsend Mill, which, sharing in the languid character of the day, stood with sails motionless, and the canvas idly spread, in the vain anticipation of meeting with some improbable stroke of fortune in the shape of a slight breeze. But neither these, nor the lazy. group of ragged urchins that lay basking on the grass, nor the happy holiday-making couples who flitted across the common, on their way to the sylvan bowers of the Folly Garden, which were just to be descried in the north-east angle of the picture; nor the thriving town on the left; nor the more distant river, reflecting the clear, blue sky, and almost rivalling an Italian lake in its depth of colour, had any share in the meditations of the youth. His thoughts were of living, breathing interest, of one most dear, the object of untiring solicitude; but the current was quickly changed, for his mercurial friend, weary of the unusual silence, recalled him to ordinary life by a hearty slap on the shoulder. Turning instantly, his face beaming with the gaiety and good humour that rendered him, in spite of a naturally thoughtful temperament, a pleasing and jocular companion, he recurred with sly emphasis to their previous conversation. "And so Mrs. Vernon has made a deep impression on you, eh ?” "Glorious creature!" said the elder. "I have never seen a finer woman in my life. Many I have dissected, but her equal in all the points that con stitute female loveliness, I have never yet looked upon. What say you, Fred ?" "I grant you, Tom," said his companion, "that the widow is a splendid specimen of the sex, but to my taste there is something repulsive in a union with a woman whose heart, soul, feelings, sympathies, have all been previously given to another. True, the daisies and the cowslips grow in luxurious fragrance over the departed, for the soil that covers him possesses qualities more than ordinarily nutritious. His very toes that point, like a note of admiration, to the moon, give out a richness to which meaner dust has no pretensions." "What! was he so very fat ?" "Fat! a very ton of man. He was called the 'Walking feather bed!' I never think of him without being reminded of the anecdote of the two stout noblemen, who were related to each other, at the court of Louis XV." "What possible relationship can exist between fat Frenchmen and the widow's first love ?" "The king rallied one of the noblemen on his corpulency, and added, 'I suppose you take little or no exercise ?' 'Your majesty will pardon me,' replied the bulky aristocrat, 'I generally walk two or three times every morning round my cousin!' Then there is the little 'Hottentot Venus' which threatens to rival its sire in its proportions—a gratifying memento mori of departed excellence!" "Never mind the 'Hottentot Venus,' it is a sweet little creature, and there is only one you know. But you forget the mother's wit, you forget her beauty, you forget the indescribable archness and fascination of her manner-above all, you forget that her fortune is in keeping with her late husband's gigantic measurement. Besides, if she is fond of fat people, no one will say that I disgrace my father's larder. O you quizzing, critical rascal! you have no soul, and cannot appreciate the feelings of those who have. By Jove! the widow is the woman for my money, and I am vain enough to think, coquette as she is, that I have made an impression on "Her lips only," retorted his companion, interrupting the completion of the sentence; "nothing more. The widow is sly, and knows a thing or two. However much she may desire to be restored to that happy state which she lost through the dead man's fondness for eau de vie, she will pause and ponder before she is hooked again to another wet fish. You are mistaken in supposing that she is partial to obesity, per se. The Eastern prince, who had an officer to regulate the size of his subjects, and who compelled the unwieldy ones to be starved down to a reasonable standard, would have found the widow admirably qualified by her taste and her experience for the task of inspector. No, no! Tom, if you are really serious in aspiring to the widow's hand, you must sacrifice less to Bacchus and more to Minerva." The young surgeon and his non-medical friend entered the vestibule of the infirmary, and passing |