The landlords of bustling
inns seldom trouble their heads about the names or occupations of
their transient guests. The colour of a coat, the shape or size of the
person, is enough to suggest a travelling name. It is either the tall
gentleman, or the short gentleman, or the gentleman in black, or the
gentleman in snuff-colour; or, as in the present instance, the stout
gentleman. A designation of the kind once hit on answers every
purpose, and saves all further inquiry.
Rain--rain--rain! pitiless, ceaseless rain! No such thing as putting a
foot out of doors, and no occupation nor amusement within. By and by I
heard some one walking overhead. It was in the stout gentleman's room.
He evidently was a large man, by the heaviness of his tread; and an
old man, from his wearing such creaking soles. "He is doubtless,"
thought I, "some rich old square-toes, of regular habits, and is now
taking exercise after breakfast."
I now read all the advertisements of coaches and hotels that were
stuck about the mantel-piece. The Lady's Magazine had become an
abomination to me; it was as tedious as the day itself. I wandered
out, not knowing what to do, and ascended again to my room. I had not
been there long, when there was a squall from a neighbouring bed-room.
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