“How charming! how very delightful!” exclaimed Louisa and Fanny: “but pray, papa, do allow Tom to return from school to witness all these amusements.”
“Fear not,” said the major; “I shall make that a condition; and I trust your papa will not refuse the request.”
“Certainly not,” replied the father; “I shall be anxious to seize so favourable an opportunity for explaining to my children the various tricks they will witness, and the machinery by which the numerous deceptions will be accomplished; thus shall I convert that which, to the common eye, will appear as a scene of idle revelry, into a school of philosophy, and in accordance with my favourite plan, ‘turn sport into science.’”
“Upon my word, Mr. Seymour, you are a perfect alchymist, and extract gold from every thing you touch; you have already derived scientific information from the most miscellaneous and trifling amusements, and will, no doubt, upon this occasion, convert our very pies and puddings into instruments of instruction; thus verifying the old adage, ‘that there is reason in roasting of eggs,’” said the major.
“I perceive that the major is not aware of the philosophy which suggested that adage,” observed the vicar.
“Nor am I,” said Mr. Seymour, “and therefore pray enlighten us upon that point.”
“You doubtless know that there is a little air bag at the large end of every egg, called the folliculus aeris, and which, as we are told, is designed to furnish a supply of air to the growing chick; if, therefore, an egg be exposed to the temperature of hot embers, this air will be suddenly expanded, the shell burst, and its contents scattered into the ashes. To prevent such an occurrence, the careful house-wife pricks the blunt end of the shell with a needle, so as to allow the expanded air to escape, and thus to prevent the accident I have just explained; from which it appears that there is reason, or philosophy, in roasting an egg.”
“Capital, upon my word!” exclaimed Mr. Seymour.
“Well, but, papa, we have interrupted the major in his delightful description; he had not concluded the account of his proposed fête,” said Louisa.
“Pray go on,” cried Fanny: “let me see, where did you leave off? Oh, I remember, you were interrupted in a temporary tent, which I hope you intend to decorate with garlands.”