“Be it so,” said Otis. “In the next place, I have made a thousand enemies, among whom are the government of the province and the nation. What do you think of this item?”
“That is as it may happen,” said Molyneux, reflectively.
“In the next place, you know I love pleasure, but I have renounced pleasure for ten years. What is that worth?”
“No great matter: you have made politics your amusement.”
A hearty laugh.
“In the next place, I have ruined as fine health as nature ever gave to man.”
“That is melancholy indeed; there is nothing to be said on that point,” Molyneux replied.
“Once more,” continued Otis, holding down his head before Molyneux, “look upon this head!” (there was a deep, half-closed scar, in which a man might lay his finger)—“and, what is worse my friends think I have a monstrous crack in my skull.”
This made all the company look grave, and had the desired effect of making Molyneux who was really a good companion, heartily ashamed of his childish complaints.
