“Your picture is perhaps a little overdrawn, Ben,” rejoined Alf with a smile.
“So would the ancients have said,” retorted Benjy, “if you had prophesied that in the nineteenth century our steamers would pass through the Straits of Hercules, up the Mediterranean, and over the land to India; or that our cousins’ steam cars would go rattling across the great prairies of America, through the vast forests, over and under the Rocky Mountains from the States to California, in seven days; or that the telephone or electric light should ever come into being.”
“Well, you see, Butterface,” said Alf, “there is a great deal to be said in favour of Arctic exploration, even at the present day, and despite all the rebuffs that we have received. Sir Edward Sabine, one of the greatest Arctic authorities, says of the route from the Atlantic to the Pacific, that it is the greatest geographical achievement which can be attempted, and that it will be the crowning enterprise of those Arctic researches in which England has hitherto had the pre-eminence. Why, Butterface,” continued Alf, warming with his subject, while the enthusiastic negro listened as it were with every feature of his expressive face, and even the volatile Benjy became attentive, “why, there is no telling what might be the advantages that would arise from systematic exploration of these unknown regions, which cover a space of not less than two million, five hundred thousand square miles. It would advance the science of hydrography, and help to solve some of the difficult problems connected with Equatorial and Polar currents. It would enable us, it is said, by a series of pendulum observations at or near the Pole, to render essential service to the science of geology, to form a mathematical theory of the physical condition of the earth, and to ascertain its exact conformation. It would probably throw light on the wonderful phenomena of magnetism and atmospheric electricity and the mysterious Aurora Borealis—to say nothing of the flora of these regions and the animal life on the land and in the sea.”
“Why, Alf,” exclaimed Benjy in surprise, “I had no idea you were so deeply learned on these subjects.”
“Deeply learned!” echoed Alf with a laugh, “why, I have only a smattering of them. Just knowledge enough to enable me in some small degree to appreciate the vast amount of knowledge which I have yet to acquire. Why do you look perplexed, Butterface?”
“’Cause, massa, you’s too deep for me altogidder. My brain no big ’nough to hold it all.”
“And your skull’s too thick to let it through to the little blob of brain that you do possess,” said Benjy with a kindly-contemptuous look at his sable friend. “Oh! flatnose, you’re a terrible thick-head.”
“You’s right dere, massa,” replied the negro, with a gratified smile at what he deemed a compliment. “You should ha’ seed me dat time when I was leetle boy down in Ole Virginny, whar dey riz me, when my gran’moder she foun’ me stickin’ my fist in de molasses-jar an’ lickin’ it off. She swarmed at me an’ fetch me one kick, she did, an’ sent me slap troo a pannel ob de loft door, an’ tumbled me down de back stair, whar I felled over de edge an’ landed on de top ob a tar barrel w’ich my head run into. I got on my legs, I did, wiv difficulty, an’ runned away never a bit de worse—not even a headache—only it was tree months afore I got dat tar rightly out o’ my wool. Yes, my head’s t’ick ’nough.”
While Butterface was speaking, Leo and the Captain were seen approaching, and the three rose to meet them. There was a grave solemnity in the Captain’s look which alarmed them.
“Nothing wrong I hope, uncle?” said Alf.