“Oh! Tommy, Tommy, what a pun!” was the general cry.
“What a good pun, or what a bad one?” asked Bouldon with perfect simplicity. “But, I say, Gregson, are there any other fish but your friends, the newts, in this pond, do you think? because if there are not, I vote we move on.”
“I never heard of any; but I wanted a newt, and so I proposed that we should fish here.”
On hearing this, there was a general proposal that he should be left behind to catch newts by himself; but he promised faithfully to show them where the best fish were to be caught, if they would forgive him. On these conditions he very easily obtained pardon for his trick.
“I say, did you ever catch a fresh-water lobster?” asked Gregson. No one had, and no one believed that there was such a thing. “I’ll soon show you one,” said Gregson; and when they came to a shallow stream with highish banks, pulled off his shoes and stockings, tucked up the sleeves of his shirt and the legs of his trousers, and was soon busy feeling under the banks, just below water.
“Why, he has got one; he has indeed!” shouted Bouldon, as Gregson produced, by the antennae, a crayfish, which, to prevent himself from being bitten, he caught by the back; its claws, though they stretched wide open, as if they had the cramp very badly, being utterly harmless.
“This is a Crustacea,” cried Gregson, holding him up in pride; “and if not a lobster, it may well be called one. I have often caught two or three dozens of them, and found them capital for tea or breakfast. In my opinion, if a person has his senses about him, and will but study natural history, he would be able to live entirely on the herbs and fruits of the field, the birds of the air, and the animals of the earth and water.”
“Ho, ho! a pretty sort of existence that would be!” exclaimed Bouldon. “I suppose you would have us to eat grass, like sheep or cows, or snails, or vermin, or tadpoles.”
“No, no! Tom, but I will undertake to place a capital dinner before you; and, except the trouble of catching the animals, it shall cost nothing beyond a halfpenny, which I will expend in mustard and pepper. I cannot grow the pepper, so I shall buy a farthing’s-worth of that and a farthing’s-worth of mustard seed, which I would grow, and could then give you mustard to eat, and also a salad.”
“What would you do for salt?” asked Buttar.