IX.—THE MAN IN SPECTACLES
“BURGUNDY is a jolly thing,” said the Professor sadly, as he set his glass down.
“You don’t look as if it were,” said Syme; “you drink it as if it were medicine.”
“You must excuse my manner,” said the Professor dismally, “my position is rather a curious one. Inside I am really bursting with boyish merriment; but I acted the paralytic Professor so well, that now I can’t leave off. So that when I am among friends, and have no need at all to disguise myself, I still can’t help speaking slow and wrinkling my forehead—just as if it were my forehead. I can be quite happy, you understand, but only in a paralytic sort of way. The most buoyant exclamations leap up in my heart, but they come out of my mouth quite different. You should hear me say, ‘Buck up, old c**k!’ It
