Scythe.
Not so. Nature always provides for her creatures; for, as birds soaring above the mountain-tops have great wings of feathers, so, on the other hand, these cattle have immense hoofs, of a substance resembling lead, but much heavier than the lead of commerce.
Whetstone.
That adds to their commercial value. Major Bluegrass, you’re my private secretary, and editor of my Cornville Eagle: what do you know about the sea?
Bluegrass.
I only know what I want to see: I want to see the sport the mermaids see down in their prismatic sea homes, drinking out of beautiful sea-shells, while pearls drop at their iridescent feet. Oh, Hercules Whetstone, you are rich! Get me a diving-bell. I’ll interview the mermaids for the benefit of the Eagle, scoop our rival, the Hawkeye Observer, and send up the Eagle’s circulation ten thousand.
Whetstone.
Blue thunder, Major, be calm! Ever since we arrived here you’ve been as excited as if you expected to see a drove of fairies and hobgoblins jump out of every bush and dance in the air.
Scythe.
He may have caught the infection of the season: for it is now the so-called fairies’ season of drolleries and bewitchments. It was a delusion of the ancients, and yet it had some scientific basis,—for science shows that this full summer tide heightens and ripens the natural dispositions of men, so that what is most natural in them often seems most strange.