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Holmes, Oliver Wendell, 1809-1894

"The Poet at the Breakfast-Table"

I will not say that Benjamin's mess, like his
Scripture namesake's, is five times as large as that of any of the
others, for this would imply either an economical distribution to the
guests in general or heaping the poor young man's plate in a way that
would spoil the appetite of an Esquimau, but you may be sure he fares
well if anybody does; and I would have you understand that our Landlady
knows what is what as well as who is who.
I begin really to entertain very sanguine expectations of young Doctor
Benjamin Franklin. He has lately been treating a patient of whose
good-will may prove of great importance to him. The Capitalist hurt one
of his fingers somehow or other, and requested our young doctor to take a
look at it. The young doctor asked nothing better than to take charge of
the case, which proved more serious than might have been at first
expected, and kept him in attendance more than a week. There was one
very odd thing about it. The Capitalist seemed to have an idea that he
was like to be ruined in the matter of bandages,--small strips of worn
linen which any old woman could have spared him from her rag-bag, but
which, with that strange perversity which long habits of economy give to
a good many elderly people, he seemed to think were as precious as if
they had been turned into paper and stamped with promises to pay in
thousands, from the national treasury.


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