Preamble (From Life.)
Van Artevelde. These are but words.
Elena. My lord, they're full of meaning!
Van Artevelde.
Grace had been said, and Mamma was busy carving for the large party of youngsters who sat around the comfortable dinner-table, when a little voice from among them called out,
"Mamma, do you think a giant could see a carraway seed?"
Now there was no sweet loaf on the table, nor even on the sideboard—neither had there been any plum cake in the house for some time—nor were there any carraway seeds in the biscuits just then. —In short, there was nothing which could be supposed to have suggested the idea of carraway seeds to the little boy who made the enquiry. Still he did make it, and though he went on quietly with his dinner, he expected to receive an answer.
Had the good Lady at the head of the table not been the mother of a large family, she might possibly have dropt the carving knife and fork, in sheer astonishment at the unaccountableness of the question, but as it was, she had heard so many other odd ones before, that she did not by outward sign demonstrate the amusement she felt at this, but simply said,—"Perhaps he could"—for she knew that it was out of her power to speak positively as to whether a Giant could see a carraway seed or not.
Now dear little readers, what do you think about this very important affair? Do you think a Giant could see a carraway seed or not?—"Oh yes," you all cry,—"of course he could!"
Nay, my dears, there is no "of course" at all in the matter! Can any of you, for example, see the creatures that float about and fight in a drop of water from the Serpentine River? No, certainly not! except through a microscope. Well, but why not?—you do not know. That I can easily believe! But then you must never again say that "of course" a Giant could see a carraway seed.