Here Collins interrupted him, asking very sarcastically, if in this fine flourish in favour of the ladies he was really _in earnest_.
Never more so in all my life, replied Ben, rather nettled.
What, that the women are as capable of studying the sciences as the men?
Yes, that the women are as capable of studying the sciences as the men.
And pray, sir, continued Collins, tauntingly, do you know of any _young woman_ of your acquaintance that would make a Newton?
And pray, sir, answered Ben, do you know any young man of your acquaintance that would? But these are no arguments, sir,--because it is not every young man or woman that can carry the science of astronomy so high as Newton, it does not follow that they are incapable of the science altogether. God sees fit in every age to appoint certain persons to kindle new lights among men.--And Newton was appointed greatly to enlarge our views of celestial objects. But we are not thence to infer that he was in all respects superior to other men, for we are told that in some instances he was far inferior to other men. Collins denied that Newton had ever shown himself, in any point of wit inferior to other men.
No, indeed, replied Ben; well what do you think of that anecdote of him, lately published in the New England Courant from a London paper?
And pray what is the anecdote? asked Collins.
Why it is to this effect, said Ben.--Newton, mounted on the wings of astronomy, and gazing at the mighty orbs of fire above, had entirely forgotten the poor little fire that slumbered on his own hearth below, which presently forgot him, that is in plain English, went out. The frost piercing his nerves, called his thoughts home, when lo! in place of the spacious skies, the gorgeous antichamber of the Almighty, he found himself in his own little nut-shell apartment, cold and dark, comparatively, as the dwelling of the winter screech-owl. He rung the bell for his servant, who after making a rousing fire, went out again. But scarcely had the servant recovered his warm corner in the kitchen, before the vile bell, with a most furious ring, summoned him the second time. The servant flew into his master's presence. _Monster!_ cried Newton with a face inflamed as if it had been toasting at the tail of one of his comets, _did you mean to burn me alive? push back the fire! for God's sake push back the fire, or I shall be a cinder in an instant!_