He was dressed in a style of superfine gentility, and his skeleton fingers were bedizened with tawdry rings.

His conversation was chiefly about his bile and his secretions, the efficacy of licorice in producing a certain effect, and the expediency of changing one's linen at least three times a day; though had he changed his six, I should have said that the purification of the last shirt would have been no sinecure to the laundress.

His accent was decidedly Scotch: he spoke familiarly of Scott and one or two other Scotch worthies, and more than once insinuated that he was a member of Parliament.

With respect to the rest of the company I say nothing, and for the very sufficient reason that, unlike the above described batch, they did not seem disposed to be impertinent towards me.
Eager to get out of such society I retired early to bed.

As I left the room the diminutive Scotch individual was describing to the old simpleton, who on the ground of the other's being a "member," was listening to him with extreme attention, how he was labouring under an access of bile owing to his having left his licorice somewhere or other.
I passed a quiet night, and in the morning breakfasted, paid my bill, and departed.