When it rains and we can't go out, we have chemistry at home; but I 'm always in a fright about the combustibles, and I 'm sure one of these days we 'll pay for our curiosity. That man that comes to lecture has n't a bit of eyebrows, and only two fingers on one hand, and half a thumb on the other; not to say that he sat down one day on a pocketful of crackers, and blew himself up in a dreadful manner.
If the weather be fine,--and I was near saying, God grant it may n't--we are to have a course of astronomy every night next week. I can stand everything, however, better than "moral philosophy and economics." As to the first of the two, it's not even common-sense. It was only two evenings ago, they laughed at me for twenty minutes about a remark that's as true as the Bible.
"What relations does Locke say are least regarded?" says the professor to me.
"Faith! I know nothing about Locke," says I; "but I know well that the relations least regarded are poor relations."
As to the economics, if they could enliven it a bit by experiments, as they do the chemistry, I could bear it well enough; but it's awfully dry to be always listening to what you can't understand.
This is the way we live at Bonn; and though it's very elevating, I find it's very depressing to the spirits. But I don't think we'll remain much longer here, for K. I. is beginning to find out that the sciences are just as dear as silks and satins; and, as he remarked the other day, "it would be cheaper to have a dish of asparagus on the table than them dirty weeds that they are gathering only for the sake of their hard names."
Of course, when all is settled about the legacy, I 'll not be obliged to submit to his humors, as I have been up to this. I'll have a voice, Molly, and I'll take care that it is heard too. I suppose it will come to a separation yet between us. I own to you, Molly, the "impossibility" of our tempers will do it at last. Well, when the time comes, I'll be, as Mrs. G. says, equal to the occasion. I can say, "I brought you rank, name, and fortune, Kenny Dodd, and I leave you with my character unvarnished; and maybe both is more than you deserved!"
When I think of where and what I might be, Molly, and see what I am, I fret for a whole livelong day. And now a word about home before I conclude. Don't mention a syllable about the legacy to Mat, or he 'll be expecting a present at Candlemas, and I really can spare nothing. You can say to Father John that Jones McCarthy is dead, but that nobody knows how the estate will go. He'll maybe say some masses for him, in the hope of being paid hereafter by the heir. I'd advise you to keep the wool back, for they say prices will rise in Ireland, by reason of all the people leaving it, just as it's described in the Book of Genesis, Molly, only that Ireland is not Paradise,--that *s the difference.