Mr. Badcock cleared his throat and read:
"The image of God in man is that universal rectitude of all the faculties of the soul, by which they stand apt and disposed to their respective offices and operations."
"Hold a moment," interrupted my father, whose habit of commenting aloud in church had often disconcerted Mr. Grylls. "Are you quite sure, Mr. Badcock, that we are not starting with the Doctor's peroration?"
"This is the first page, sir."
"Then the Doctor himself began at the wrong end. Prosper, will you take a look astern and report me how many boats are coming?"
"Three, sir," said I. "The third has just pushed off from the ship."
"Thank you. Proceed, Mr. Badcock."
"And first for its noblest faculty, the understanding. It was then sublime, clear, and aspiring, and as it were the soul's upper region, lofty and serene, free from the vapours and disturbances of the inferior affections. . . . Like the sun it had both light and agility; it knew no rest but in motion; no quiet but in activity. . . . It did arbitrate upon the several reports of sense, and all the varieties of imagination; not like a drowsy judge, only hearing, but also directing their verdict. In sum, it was vegete quick and lively; open as the day, untainted as the morning, full of the innocence and sprightliness of youth; it gave the soul a bright and a full view into all things."
"A fine piece of prose," remarked Mr. Fett as Mr. Badcock drew breath.
"A fine fiddlestick, sir!" quoth my father. "The man is talking largely on matters of which he can know nothing; and in five minutes (I bet you) he will come a cropper."