He was a small, sedate, Creole gentleman of thirty or more,
with a young-old face and manner that provoked instant admiration. He
would receive you--be you who you may--in a mild, candid manner, looking
into your face with his deep blue eyes, and re-assuring you with a
modest, amiable smile, very sweet and rare on a man's mouth.
To be frank, the Doctor's little establishment was dusty and
disorderly--very. It was curious to see the jars, and jars, and jars. In
them were serpents and hideous fishes and precious specimens of many
sorts. There were stuffed birds on broken perches; and dried lizards,
and eels, and little alligators, and old skulls with their crowns sawed
off, and ten thousand odd scraps of writing-paper strewn with crumbs of
lonely lunches, and interspersed with long-lost spatulas and rust-eaten
lancets.
All New Orleans, at least all Creole New Orleans, knew, and yet did not
know, the dear little Doctor. So gentle, so kind, so skilful, so
patient, so lenient; so careless of the rich and so attentive to the
poor; a man, all in all, such as, should you once love him, you would
love him forever.
Pages:
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322