"I was up, yes—yes—up—up—yes, I was up by five yesterday—yes—yes—yesterday morning. When do you rise, ma'am? I always rise—yes—yes—rise—I always rise by six—true—true—quite true—by six, ma'am—it is good—so good—yes—yes—very good, ma'am, for the health—the health—yes—the health."
Such is the drivel which we have often heard oozing, drop by drop, from a male creature of the prosy kind.
"THE BLAZING IDIOT."
The blazing idiot is all over self and wonderment. He has done—what has he not done? He can do—what can he not do? One of this character was one day entertaining old Quin with the account of an encounter with a furious bull, in which the blazer had proved too much for the horner, and held him, in spite of his neck, till he roared for a truce.
"Oh," said Quin, looking around him knowingly on the company, "that is nothing at all to what I once experienced myself."
The original blazer looked amazement.
"Yes," says Quin, "I—even I, have managed the bull exercise in a higher style than you, sir. You only held the bull's head down by the horns, but I twisted his head from his neck, and threw it after his departing hind-quarters!"
This produced a roar at the idiot's expense, and he shrunk out, to announce his achievements somewhere else.
Is he a traveller?—Why, then, Munchausen is a fool to him. He has undergone, achieved, seen, heard, tasted, more wonders than a thousand Gullivers.
"The bats of Madagascar are large, assuredly, and almost exclude the sunlight by the breadth of their hairy wings. But the bats are nothing, sir, to the bees."