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"That is not likely," said the querist; "these Varangians do not speak our language, and are not extremely well fitted for spies, since few of them pretend to any intelligible notion of the Grecian tongue. It is not likely, I think, that the Emperor would employ as a spy a man who did not understand the language of the country."
While sufficient daylight remained to show the dress and appearance of a gentleman, these cross interrogatories were usually put in the form of a case supposed, as, 'Ye'll hae been at the auld abbey o' Halycross, sir? there's mony English gentlemen gang to see that. Or, 'Your honour will be come frae the house o' Pouderloupat? But when the voice of the querist alone was distinguishable, the response usually was, 'Where are ye coming frae at sic a time o' night as the like o' this? or, 'Ye'll no be o' this country, freend? The answers, when obtained, were neither very reconcilable to each other nor accurate in the information which they afforded.
Dougal looked in every direction except at the querist, and began to answer, "She canna just be sure about that." "Look at me, you Highland dog," said the officer, "and remember your life depends on your answer. How many rogues had that outlawed scoundrel with him when you left him?" "Ou, no aboon sax rogues when I was gane." "And where are the rest of his banditti?"
Sampson, are these three hours entirely spent inconstruing and translating? 'Doubtless, no; we have also colloquial intercourse to sweeten study: neque semper arcum tendit apollo. The querist proceeded to elicit from this Galloway Phoebus what their discourse chiefly turned upon. 'Upon our past meetings at Ellangowan; and, truly, I think very often we discourse concerning Miss Lucy, for Mr.
"What's the matter with so-and-so?" would ask a mousing neighbor. "He's sick," ran the laconic reply. "Goin' to die?" one daring querist ventured further. "Some time," said the doctor. But though he assumed a right to combat thus the outer world, no one was gentler with a sick man or with those about him in their grief.
All the single ladies reply "Never!" underlining the word three times. "Yes, only once," is the statement of the married ones. According to the Querist Album, "The course of true love always runs smooth." No one seems to be attacked by Cupid but they must immediately marry the object of their choice, and "all goes merrily as a marriage bell."
His fellow-traveller took the liberty of inquiring the subject of his studies. He lifted up his eyes with something of a sarcastic glance, as if he supposed the young querist would not relish, or perhaps understand, his answer, and pronounced the book to be Sandy Gordon's Itinerarium Septentrionale,* a book illustrative of the Roman remains in Scotland.
But it has been asked again and again, in reference to these two solutions, can a man overstep the limits of himself of his own consciousness? If he can, then says the querist, the reality of the external world is indeed guaranteed; but what an insoluble, inextricable contradiction is here: that a man should overstep the limits of the very nature which is his, just because he cannot overstep it!
And as women are commonly impulsive and inquisitive, the first to come forward was one of the two friends of Don Antonio's wife, and her question was, "Tell me, Head, what shall I do to be very beautiful?" and the answer she got was, "Be very modest." "I question thee no further," said the fair querist.
"Do they hunt in Heaven, or make war, or go to feasts?" asked an anxious inquirer. "Oh, no!" replied the Father. "Then," returned the querist, "I will not go. It is not good to be lazy." But above all other obstacles was the dread of starvation in the regions of the blest.
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