"Men of your profession don't generally smoke," he said. Lydgate

smiled and shook his head. "Nor of mine either, properly, I suppose.

You will hear that pipe alleged against me by Bulstrode and Company.

They don't know how pleased the devil would be if I gave it up."

"I understand. You are of an excitable temper and want a sedative. I

am heavier, and should get idle with it. I should rush into idleness,

and stagnate there with all my might."

"And you mean to give it all to your work. I am some ten or twelve

years older than you, and have come to a compromise. I feed a weakness

or two lest they should get clamorous. See," continued the Vicar,

opening several small drawers, "I fancy I have made an exhaustive study

of the entomology of this district. I am going on both with the fauna

and flora; but I have at least done my insects well. We are singularly

rich in orthoptera: I don't know whether--Ah! you have got hold of that

glass jar--you are looking into that instead of my drawers. You don't

really care about these things?"

"Not by the side of this lovely anencephalous monster. I have never

had time to give myself much to natural history. I was early bitten

with an interest in structure, and it is what lies most directly in my

profession. I have no hobby besides. I have the sea to swim in there."

"Ah! you are a happy fellow," said Mr. Farebrother, turning on his heel

and beginning to fill his pipe. "You don't know what it is to want

spiritual tobacco--bad emendations of old texts, or small items about a

variety of Aphis Brassicae, with the well-known signature of

Philomicron, for the 'Twaddler's Magazine;' or a learned treatise on

the entomology of the Pentateuch, including all the insects not

mentioned, but probably met with by the Israelites in their passage

through the desert; with a monograph on the Ant, as treated by Solomon,

showing the harmony of the Book of Proverbs with the results of modern

research. You don't mind my fumigating you?"

Lydgate was more surprised at the openness of this talk than at its

implied meaning--that the Vicar felt himself not altogether in the

right vocation. The neat fitting-up of drawers and shelves, and the

bookcase filled with expensive illustrated books on Natural History,

made him think again of the winnings at cards and their destination.

But he was beginning to wish that the very best construction of

everything that Mr. Farebrother did should be the true one. The

Vicar's frankness seemed not of the repulsive sort that comes from an

uneasy consciousness seeking to forestall the judgment of others, but

simply the relief of a desire to do with as little pretence as

possible. Apparently he was not without a sense that his freedom of

speech might seem premature, for he presently said--




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