Nell. Nonsense! I said that it was on the Gold Coast, and wished I had it in my own pocket.
Wrig. I have remarked with regret, if you will permit me to say it, an aversion to consulting the Atlas, which——
Nell. Keep me from you and your atlas! Atlas carried the world, and you would burden me with the Atlas. I hardly consider myself competent yet to carry the whole globe on my poor little shoulders. I should like to know what is the use of knowing the situation of this place and that place, to one who never has the satisfaction of seeing any place at all beyond the walls of our stupid garden. I wish that the cross old gentleman who bequeathed my father Grimhaggard Hall, had lived to repent it, that I do! I would rather live in the narrowest lane in the City than be cooped up here like a toad in a block. I’ve no fancy to be a Penelope,—stitch, stitch, stitch!
Wrig. Penelope was a distinguished ornament to her sex.
Nell. O dear Tutor, I know that she was a duck of a queen, but distinguished for nothing but her web-feat.
Wrig. The resource of literature remains to you, Madam, which was never open to her. I would again venture to draw your attention to the subject of Geography.
Nell. O no more of that, I beg, my dear Mr. Wriggle. I know that Ham and Sandwich are in the kitchen, China in the cupboard, and Madeira in the cellar. That is enough for me. I regard Geography simply in reference to utility. I’m quite a utilitarian by principle. You know that the greatest navigator was a Cook; I dare say that he discovered Chili, Cayenne, and Curaçoa. Now do you know, my wise old Tutor, in spite of your white hair and all your learning, I think that I could puzzle you.
Wrig. It would be difficult, Madam, to place a limit to your powers.
Nell. Tell me, why is Botany Bay called Botany Bay?