The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1880-01-14

stranger, starting out OF MS nap cIicu o"S W
Jerrold Il know you, Mr.. Jerrold, L know
you; but you shall not make butt OF mel
"'Then don't bring your hogs head In
here was the instant answer of the wit"
The following is a story of Sir Walter
Scott. The chemical philosopher, DIR. Black,
and DR.. Hutton were particular friends,
though there was something extremely OPP
posite in their appearance and manner. DIR.
Black spoke with the English pronunciation,
and with punctilious accuracy OF expression.
The geologist, Dr. Hutton, was the very re-
verse of this; his conversation was conduct
ed in broad phrases, expressed with strong
Scotch accent which eften heightened the
humor of what he said. 1t CHANGED that
the two doctors had held some discourse to-
gether upon the folly of abstaining from feed
ing on testaceous creatures OF the land, while
those of the sea were considered as delicacies.
Wherefore not eat snails? They are known
to be nutritious and wholesome, and sanative
in some cases. The epicures of old praised
them among the richest delicacies, and the
Italians still esteem them. In short it was de-
termined that a gastronomic experiment
should be made at the expense of the snalls.
The snails are procured, fattened for time,
and then stewed for the benefit of the two
| philosophers only, who had neither invited
no guests to their banquet or found no one
| who relished in prospect the piece de resist
ance. A huge dish of snails was placed be-
| fore them. Philosophers are but men after
all, and the stomach of both doctors began to
| revolt against the experiment. Neverthe-
| less, though they look with disgust on the
| snails, they retain their awe of each other, so
that each, conceiving the sensations of inter-
| nal revolt peculiar to himself, began with in
| finite exertion to swallow in very small guam
Il ho ba inf oil
| DIR. Black at length showed the white feather,
but in very delicate manner, as if to sound
the opinion of his messmate, doctor" he
said, in his precise and quidt manner, ''do
| you not think they taste little-a very lit
| tie green?" "Greenp vociferated DR.. Hut
| ton, with prefix we prefer to omit. "Green,
| indeedl TAX TEEN awa'.' And, starting up
from the table, the doctor gave full vent to
his feelings of adherence. So ended all
hopes of introducing snails into the modern
cuisine. And thus was shown the fact that
philosophers can no more cure nausea than
honor can set broken limb"
The following Characteristic story of two
intelligent gladiator" is related in "A
New Spirit of the Age: Leigh Hunt and
Carlyle were once present among a small
party of equally well-known men. 1t
CHANGED that the conversation rested with
/
others sat- well pleased to listen. Hunt had
said something about the Island of the
Blest, or Eldorado, or the millennium,
and was flowing on, in his bright and
hopeful waA when Carlyle dropped some
big tree-trunk across Hunts pleasant
stream, and banked it up with philosophical
doubts and objections at every interval
af the speakers joyful progress. But the
irrepressibe Hunt did not cease his over
flowing antcipations nor the saturn
inc CARLYLE his infinite demurs to those inf
mite Furnishings. The listeners laughed and
Tapplauded by turns, and pitted them against
each other as the philosophers of hopefulness
and of unhopefulness. The contest contin usd
with all the ready wit, that mixture of pleas
antry and profundity, an extensive knowl-
edge of books and their character, with their
ready application of arguments or illustra-
tions and that perfect ease and good nature
which distinguished each of these men. The
opponents were so well matched that it was
| clear the contect would never bone to an
| end by victory on either side. But the night
was far advanced and the party broke ub.
They all sailIied forth, leaving the close room,
the candles and the arguments behind them,
and suddenly found themselves in the pres
ence of a most brilliant starlight night
They all looked up. Now thought Hunt,
Carlyle is done for; he can have no answer
to that Thereh he shouted, look up therel
Look at that glorious harmony, that sings
with infinite voices an eternal song of home
in the soul of man.
Carlyle looked up. The whole party re-
manned silent, to hear what he would say.
They began to think he was silenced at last
6 he was but mortal. But out of that silence
there came few low-toned words in broad
Scotch accent And who on earth could
have anticipated what that voice said? "Ehl
it is sad sightl"
Hunt sat down on a doorstep. They all
laughed, then looked very thoughtful, then
laughed again. Finally they babe each
other good night and betook themselves
homeward with slow and serious pace.
There might be some reason for sadness. too.
That brilliant armament probably-we
would rather say possibly-contains infinite
worlds, each full of struggling and suffering
beings, of beings who had to die, for life in
the stars may imply that those bright worlds
may also be full of graves; all that life like
, ours-our philosophers appeared to have ig-
nored revelation in these ghts-knowing
not whence it came or whittier it goeth, and
the brilliant universe in as great movement
having perhaps no more certain knowledge
| of itself nor its ultimate destination than hath