For the Southern Literary Messenger.
LION-IZING. A TALE.
BY EDGAR A. POE.
| ——————all people went Upon their ten toes in wild wonderment. |
| Bishop Hall's Satires. |
I am—that is to say, I was, a great man. But I am neither the author of Junius, nor the man in the mask—for my name is Thomas Smith, and I was born somewhere in the city of Fum-Fudge. The first action of my life was the taking hold of my nose with both hands. My mother saw this and called me a genius. My father wept for joy, and bought me a treatise on Nosology. Before I was breeched I had not only mastered the treatise, but had collected into a common-place book all that is said on the subject, by Pliny, Aristotle, Alexander Ross, Minutius Felix, Hermanus Pictorius, Del Rio, Villarêt, Bartholinus, and Sir Thomas Browne.
I now began to feel my way in the science, and soon came to understand, that, provided a man had a nose sufficiently big, he might, by merely following it, arrive at a Lionship. But my attention was not confined to theories alone. Every morning I took a dram or two, and gave my proboscis a couple of pulls. When I came of age my father sent for me to his study.
'My son'—said he—'what is the chief end of your existence?'
'Father'—I said—'it is the study of Nosology.'
'And what, Thomas'—he continued—'is Nosology?'