"
"Well, Edward, may God grant it," exclaimed his father rising up from
breakfast, "and that's all I have to say----God grant it!"
"Why, Sir Oracle, junior," said Hycy, after his father had gone out, "or
rather Solomon Secundus, if you are now an unfledged philosopher on our
hand, what will you not be when your opinions are grown?"
"My dear brother," replied Edward, I cannot see what on earth you can
propose to yourself by adopting this ridiculous style of conversation
I cannot really see any object you can have in it. If it be to vex or
annoy my father, can you blame him if he feels both vexed and annoyed at
it.
"Most sapiently said, Solomon Secundus--
"'Solomon Lob was a ploughman stout,
And a ranting cavalier;
And, when the civil war broke out,
It quickly did appear
That Solomon Lob was six feet high,
And fit for a grenadier.
So Solomon Lob march'd boldly forth
To sounds of bugle horns
And a weary march had Solomon Lob,
For Solomon Lob had corns.
Row,--ra--ra--row--de--dow.'
"And so I wish you a good morning, most sapient Solomon. I go on
business of importance affecting--the welfare of the nation, or rather
of the empire at large--embracing all these regions, antipodial and
otherwise, on which the sun never sets. Good morning, therefore;
and, maternal relative, wishing the same to thee, with a less copious
exhibition of the hydraulics, a-hem!"
"Where is he going, mother, do you know?" asked Edward.
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