They have shining foreheads with big
bumps of benevolence, like Flora Casby's father, and one inclines to
believe that their eyes must be frequently filmed with an honest tear,
if only because their vision is blurred. They are fond of lists of names
which never suggest things; they are sparing of similes. If they use
them they are careful to see they are not too definite, for a definite
simile makes havoc of their constructions, by applying to them a certain
test of reality.
But it is impossible to be serious about them. The more stupid of them
supply the matter for a good laugh; the more clever the stuff of a more
recondite amazement. What _is_ one to do when Mr Monro apostrophises the
force of Gravity in such words as these?--
'By leave of you man places stone on stone;
He scatters seed: you are at once the prop
Among the long roots of his fragile crop
You manufacture for him, and insure
House, harvest, implement, and furniture,
And hold them all secure.'
We are not surprised to learn further that
'I rest my body on your grass,
And let my brain repose in you.
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