"Why sir, it must have been as bad as a hurricane!"
"No, no, not quite so bad--but it showed what a little knowledge of philosophical arrangement could effect. We have no hurricanes in England, Peter; but I have seen a very pretty whirlwind when I was at Walcot Abbey."
"Yes; it cut four square haystacks quite round, and I lost twenty tons of hay; it twisted the iron lamp-post at the entrance just as a porpoise twists a harpoon, and took up a sow and her litter of pigs, that were about a hundred yards from the back of the house, and landed them safe over the house to the front, with the exception of the old sow putting her shoulder out."
"Yes, but what was strange, there were a great many rats in the hayrick, and up they went with the hay. Now, Peter, by the laws of gravitation, they naturally come down before the hay, and I was walking with my greyhound, or rather terrier, and after one coming down close to her, which she killed, it was quite ridiculous to witness her looking up in the air, and watching for the others."
"A greyhound did you say, sir, or a terrier?"
"Both, Peter; the fact is, she had been a greyhound, but breaking her foreleg against a stump, when coursing, I had the other three amputated as well, and then she made a capital terrier. She was a great favourite of mine."
"Well," observed I, "I have read something like that in Baron Munchausen."
"Mr Simple," said the captain, turning on his elbow and looking me severely in the face, "what do you mean to imply?"
"Oh, nothing, sir, but I have read a story of that kind."
"Most probably; the great art of invention is to found it upon facts. There are some people who out of a mole-hill will make a mountain; and facts and fiction become so blended nowadays, that even truth becomes a matter of doubt."
"Very true, sir," replied I; and as he did not speak for some minutes, I ventured to bring my Bible to his bedside, as if I was reading it to myself.
"Only a chapter in the Bible, sir," said I. "Would you like that I should read aloud?"
"Yes, I'm very fond of the Bible--it's the book of _truth_. Peter, read me about Jacob, and his weathering Esau with a mess of pottage, and obtaining his father's blessing." I could not help thinking it singular that he should select a portion in which, for divine reasons, a lie was crowned with success and reward.