“Giant in a dwalm,” suggested Benjy.
“We’ll change the subject,” said Alf, opening his botanical box and taking out several specimens of plants and rocks. “See, here are some bits of rock of a kind that are quite new to me.”
“What’s de use ob dem?” inquired Butterface with a look of earnest simplicity.
“The use?” said Benjy, taking on himself to reply; “why, you flat-nosed grampus, don’t you know that these bits of rock are made for the express purpose of being carried home, identified, classified, labelled, stuck up in a museum, and stared at by wondering ignoramuses, who care nothing whatever about them, and know less. Geologists are constantly going about the world with their little hammers keeping up the supply.”
“Yes, Butterface,” said Alf, “Benjy is partly correct; such specimens will be treated as he describes, and be stared at in blank stupidity by hundreds of fellows like himself, but they will also be examined and understood by geologists, who from their profound knowledge of the plans which our Creator seems to have had in arranging the materials of the earth, are able to point out many interesting and useful facts which are not visible to the naked and unscientific eye, such, for instance, as the localities where coal and other precious things may be found.”
“Kin dey tell whar’ gold is to be found, massa Alf?”
“O yes, they can tell that.”
“Den it’s dis yer chile as wishes,” said Butterface with a sigh, “dat he was a jollygist.”
“Oh! Butterface, you’re a jolly goose at all events,” said Benjy; “wouldn’t it be fun to go and discover a gold mine, and dig up as much as would keep us in happy idleness all the rest of our lives? But I say, Alf, have you nothing better than geological specimens in your box—no grubological specimens, eh?”
Alf replied by producing from his box a paper parcel which contained some of the required specimens in the shape of biscuit and pemmican.