Judge SWEENEY'S villa is on the turnpike, opposite the Alms-House, with
doors and shutters giving in whichever direction they are opened; and he
is sitting near a table, with a sheet of paper in his hand, and a bowl
of warm lemon tea before him, when his servant-girl announces "Mr.
BUMSTEAD."
"Happy to see you, sir, in my house, for the first time," is Judge
SWEENEY'S hospitable greeting.
"You honor me, sir," says Mr. BUMSTEAD, whose eyes are set, as though he
were in some kind of a fit, and who shakes hands excessively. "You are
a good man, sir. How do you do, sir? Shake hands again, sir. I am very
well, sir, I thank you. Your hand, sir. I'll stand by you, sir--though I
never spoke t' you b'fore in my life. Let us shake hands, sir."
But instead of waiting for this last shake, Mr. BUMSTEAD abruptly turns
away to the nearest chair, deposits his hat in the very middle of the
seat with great care, and recklessly sits down upon it.
The lemon tea in the bowl upon the table is a fruity compound,
consisting of two very thin slices of lemon, which are maintained in
horizontal positions, for the free action of the air upon their upper
surfaces, by a pint of whiskey procured for that purpose.
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