This eBook was produced by Pat Castevens
and David Widger
The Hegira is completed,—we have all taken roost in the old Tower. Myfather's books have arrived by the wagon, and have settled themselvesquietly in their new abode,—filling up the apartment dedicated to theirowner, including the bed chamber and two lobbies. The duck also hasarrived, under wing of Mrs. Primmins, and has reconciled herself to theold stewpond, by the side of which my father has found a walk thatcompensates for the peach-wall, especially as he has made acquaintancewith sundry respectable carps, who permit him to feed them after he hasfed the duck,—a privilege of which (since, if any one else approaches,the carps are off in an instant) my father is naturally vain. Allprivileges are valuable in proportion to the exclusiveness of theirenjoyment.
Now, from the moment the first carp had eaten the bread my father threwto it, Mr. Caxton had mentally resolved that a race so confiding shouldnever be sacrificed to Ceres and Primmins. But all the fishes on myuncle's property were under the special care of that Proteus Bolt; andBolt was not a man likely to suffer the carps to earn their breadwithout contributing their full share to the wants of the community.But, like master, like man! Bolt was an aristocrat fit to be hung a lalanterne. He out-Rolanded Roland in the respect he entertained forsounding names and old families; and by that bait my father caught himwith such skill that you might see that if Austin Caxton had been anangler of fishes, he could have filled his basket full any day, shine orrain.
"You observe, Bolt," said my father, beginning artfully, "that thosefishes, dull as you may think them; are creatures capable of asyllogism; and if they saw that, in proportion to their civility to me,they were depopulated by you, they would put two and two together, andrenounce my acquaintance."
"Is that what you call being silly Jems, sir?" said Bolt. "Faith! thereis many a good Christian not half so wise."
"Man," answered my father, thoughtfully, "is an animal lesssyllogistical or more silly-Jemical, than many creatures popularlyesteemed his inferiors. Yes, let but one of those Cyprinidae, with hisfine sense of logic, see that if his fellow-fishes eat bread, they, aresuddenly jerked out of their element and vanish forever, and though youbroke a quartern loaf into crumbs, he would snap his tail at you withenlightened contempt. If," said my father, soliloquizing, "I had beenas syllogistic as those scaly logicians, I should never have swallowedthat hook which—Hum! there—least said soonest mended. But, Mr. Bolt,to return to the Cyprinidae."
"What's the hard name you call them 'ere carp, yer honor?" asked Bolt.
"Cyprinidae,—a family of the section Malacoptergii Abdominales,"replied Mr. Caxton; "their teeth are generally confined to thePharyngeans, and their branehiostegous rays are but few,—marks ofdistinction from fishes vulgar and voracious."
"Sir," said Bolt, glancing to the stewpond, "if I had known they hadbeen a family of such importance, I am sure I should have treated themwith more respect."
"They are a very old family, Bolt, and have been settled in Englandsince the fourteenth century. A younger branch of the family hasestablished itself in a pond in the gardens of Peterhoff (the celebratedpalace of Peter the Great, Bolt,—an emperor highly respected by mybrother, for he killed a great many people very gloriously in battle,besides those whom he sabred for h