Tom-all-Alone’s

           MyLadyDedlockisrestless,veryrestless.Theastonishedfashionableintelligencehardlyknowswheretohaveher.To-daysheisatChesneyWold;yesterdayshewasatherhouseintown;to-morrowshemaybeabroad,foranythingthefashionableintelligencecanwithconfidencepredict.EvenSirLeicester’sgallantryhassometroubletokeeppacewithher.Itwouldhavemorebutthathisotherfaithfulally,forbetterandforworsethegoutdartsintotheoldoakbed-chamberatChesneyWoldandgripshimbybothlegs.SirLeicesterreceivesthegoutasatroublesomedemon,butstillademonofthepatricianorder.AlltheDedlocks,inthedirectmaleline,throughacourseoftimeduringandbeyondwhichthememoryofmangoethnottothecontrary,havehadthegout.Itcanbeproved,sir.Othermen’sfathersmayhavediedoftherheumatismormayhavetakenbasecontagionfromthetaintedbloodofthesickvulgar,buttheDedlockfamilyhavecommunicatedsomethingexclusiveeventothelevellingprocessofdyingbydyingoftheirownfamilygout.Ithascomedownthroughtheillustriouslineliketheplate,orthepictures,ortheplaceinLincolnshire.Itisamongtheirdignities.SirLeicesterisperhapsnotwhollywithoutanimpression,thoughhehasneverresolveditintowords,thattheangelofdeathinthedischargeofhisnecessarydutiesmayobservetotheshadesofthearistocracy,"Mylordsandgentlemen,IhavethehonourtopresenttoyouanotherDedlockcertifiedtohavearrivedperthefamilygout.

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