“Know the truth; he knows what’s good, from an oyster to an ostrich—he’s not only sound, but round.”
“Suppose we drink his health?”
“Thank you, boy: here’s Parr’s health, and Whiter’s.”
“Who is Whiter?”
“Don’t you know Whiter? I thought everybody knew Reverend Whiter the philologist, [225b] though I suppose you scarcely know what that means. A man fond of tongues and languages, quite out of your way—he understands some twenty; what do you say to that?”
“Is he a sound man?”
“Why, as to that, I scarcely know what to say: he has got queer notions in his head—wrote a book to prove that all words came originally from the earth—who knows? Words have roots, and roots live in the earth; but, upon the whole, I should not call him altogether a sound man, though he can talk Greek nearly as fast as Parr.”
“Is he a round man?”
“Ay, boy, rounder than Parr; I’ll sing you a song, if you like, which will let you into his character:—
‘Give me the haunch of a buck to eat, and to drink Madeira old,
And a gentle wife to rest with, and in my arms to fold,
An Arabic book to study, a Norfolk cob to ride,
And a house to live in shaded with trees, and near to a river side;
With such good things around me, and blessed with good health withal,
Though I should live for a hundred years, for death I would not call.’