“No, it was n't. It was Solon. Who was Solon?”
“Solon was one of the wise men of Greece.”
“That's right. When did he flourish?”
When the train stops at a station the classics continue, and the studious group attracts the attention of the passengers. Pa is well pleased, but not so the young lady, who beseechingly says,
“Pa, everybody can hear us.”
“You would n't care how much they heard, if you knew it,” replies this accomplished devotee of learning.
In another lull of the car-wheels we find that pa has skipped over to Marathon; and this time it is the daughter who is asking a question.
“Pa, what is a phalanx?”
“Well, a phalanx—it's a—it's difficult to define a phalanx. It's a stretch of men in one line,—a stretch of anything in a line. When did Alexander flourish?”
This domestic tyrant had this in common with the rest of us, that he was much better at asking questions than at answering them. It certainly was not our fault that we were listeners to his instructive struggles with ancient history, nor that we heard his petulant complaining to his cowed family, whom he accused of dragging him away on this summer trip. We are only grateful to him, for a more entertaining person the traveler does not often see. It was with regret that we lost sight of him at St. John.