‘It is very good,’ said I.

‘Did you ever taste better Madeira?’

‘I never before tasted Madeira.’

‘Then you ask for a wine without knowing what it is?’

‘I ask for it, sir, that I may know what it is.’

’Well, there is logic in that, as Parr would say; you have heard of Parr?’

‘Old Parr?’

’Yes, old Parr, but not that Parr; you mean the English, I the Greek Parr, as people call him.’

‘I don’t know him.’

’Perhaps not—­rather too young for that, but were you of my age, you might have cause to know him, coming from where you do.  He kept school there, I was his first scholar; he flogged Greek into me till I loved him—­and he loved me:  he came to see me last year, and sat in that chair; I honour Parr—­he knows much, and is a sound man.’

‘Does he know the truth?’

’Know the truth! he knows what’s good, from an oyster to an ostrich—­he’s not only sound, but round.’

‘Suppose we drink his health?’

‘Thank you, boy:  here’s Parr’s health, and Whiter’s.’

‘Who is Whiter?’

’Don’t you know Whiter?  I thought everybody knew Reverend Whiter the philologist, though I suppose you scarcely know what that means.  A man fond of tongues and languages, quite out of your way—­he understands some twenty; what do you say to that?’

‘Is he a sound man?’

’Why, as to that, I scarcely know what to say:  he has got queer notions in his head—­wrote a book to prove that all words came originally from the earth—­who knows?  Words have roots, and roots live in the earth; but, upon the whole, I should not call him altogether a sound man, though he can talk Greek nearly as fast as Parr.’

‘Is he a round man?’

’Ay, boy, rounder than Parr; I’ll sing you a song, if you like, which will let you into his character:—­

   ’Give me the haunch of a buck to eat, and to drink Madeira old,
   And a gentle wife to rest with, and in my arms to fold,
   An Arabic book to study, a Norfolk cob to ride,
   And a house to live in shaded with trees, and near to a river side;
   With such good things around me, and blessed with good health withal,
   Though I should live for a hundred years, for death I would not call.

Here’s to Whiter’s health—­so you know nothing about the fight?’

’No, sir; the truth is, that of late I have been very much occupied with various matters, otherwise I should, perhaps, have been able to afford you some information—­boxing is a noble art.’

‘Can you box?’

‘A little.’

’I tell you what, my boy; I honour you, and provided your education had been a little less limited, I should have been glad to see you here in company with Parr and Whiter; both can box.  Boxing is, as you say, a noble art—­a truly English art; may I never see the day when Englishmen shall feel ashamed of it, or blacklegs and blackguards bring it into disgrace.  I am a magistrate, and, of course, cannot patronise the thing very openly, yet I sometimes see a prize fight:  I saw the Game Chicken beat Gulley.’