on with the "Anabasis" till I come back. And remember -
NEANISKOS is not a proper name, ha! ha! ha! The quadratics
will keep till the evening.' He was merry over his
prospects, and I was not
altogether otherwise.
But there was no Xenophon, no algebra, that day! Dire was
the
stress" target="_blank" title="n.痛苦 vt.使苦恼">
distress of my poor dominie when he found the mother as
much bewildered as the daughter was frightened, by the
mistake. 'She,' the daughter, 'had never for a moment
imagined, &c., &c.'
My tutor was not long disheartened by such caprices - so he
deemed them, as Miss Jemima's (she had a prettier name, you
may be sure), and I did my best (it cost me little now) to
encourage his fondest hopes. I proposed that we should drink
the health of the future
stress" target="_blank" title="n.女主人;情妇;女能手">
mistress of Warham in tea, which he
cheerfully acceded to, all the more
readily, that it gave him
an opportunity to vent one of his old college jokes. 'Yes,
yes,' said he, with a laugh, 'there's nothing like tea. TE
VENIENTE DIE, TE DECEDENTE CANEBAM.' Such sallies of
innocent playfulness often smoothed his path in life. He
took a
genuine pleasure in his own jokes. Some men do. One
day I dropped a pot of marmalade on a new
carpet, and should
certainly have been reprimanded for
carelessness, had it not
occurred to him to exclaim: 'JAM SATIS TERRIS!' and then
laugh immoderately at his wit.
That there are as good fish in the sea as ever came out of
it, was a maxim he acted upon, if he never heard it. Within a
month of the above
incident he proposed to another lady upon
the sole grounds that, when playing a game of chess, an
exchange of pieces being contemplated, she
innocently, but
incautiously, observed, 'If you take me, I will take you.'
He referred the matter next day to my ripe judgment. As I
had no partiality for the lady in question, I strongly
advised him to accept so
obvious a
challenge, and go down on
his knees to her at once. I laid
stress on the knees, as the
accepted form of
declaration, both in novels and on the
stage.
In this case the
beloved object, who was not embarrassed by
excess of amiability,
promptly desired him, when he urged his
suit, 'not to make a fool of himself.'
My tutor's peculiarities, however, were not confined to his
endeavours to meet with a lady
rectoress. He sometimes
surprised his hearers with the
originality of his abstruse
theories. One morning he called me into the
stable yard to
join in
consultation with his
gardener as to the advisability
of killing a pig. There were two, and it was not easy to
decide which was the fitter for the
butcher. The
rectorselected one, I the other, and the
gardener, who had nurtured
both from their tenderest age, pleaded that they should be
allowed to 'put on another score.' The point was warmly
argued all round.
'The black sow,' said I (they were both sows, you must know)
- 'The black sow had a
litter of ten last time, and the white
one only six. Ergo, if history repeats itself, as I have
heard you say, you should keep the black, and sacrifice the
white.'
'But,' objected the
rector, 'that was the white's first
litter, and the black's second. Why shouldn't the white do
as well as the black next time?'
'And better, your
reverence,' chimed in the
gardener. 'The
number don't allays depend on the sow, do it?'
'That is neither here nor there,' returned the
rector.
'Well,' said the
gardener, who stood to his guns, 'if your
reverence is right, as no doubt you will be, that'll make
just twenty little pigs for the
butcher, come Michaelmas.'
'We can't kill 'em before they are born,' said the
rector.
'That's true, your
reverence. But it comes to the same
thing.'
'Not to the pigs,' retorted the
rector.
'To your
reverence, I means.'
'A pig at the
butcher's,' I suggested, 'is worth a dozen
unborn.'