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Updated: May 15, 2025
"Don't be too pleased, Mr. Pedagog," said the Idiot, dryly. "I only wanted to show Mr. Warren that you and Mr. Whitechoker, mines of information though you are, have not as yet worked up a corner on knowledge to the exclusion of the rest of us." And with these words the Idiot left the table. "He is a queer fellow," said the School-Master.
"An Englishman has just discovered a means by which a ship in distress at sea can write for help on the clouds." "Extraordinary!" said Mr. Whitechoker. "It might be more so," observed the Idiot, coaxing the platterful of cakes out of the School-Master's reach by a dexterous movement of his hand. "And it will be more so some day.
As a clergyman, I do not approve of the stage." "That ought to settle it," said the Idiot. "Mr. Whitechoker is too good a friend to us all here for us to compel him to go out of that back door into the rather limited market-garden Mrs. Pedagog keeps in the yard. My indirect plea for the admission of Mr.
And if 1990 can be brought before the mind's eye, what is to prevent the invention of a prophetograph which shall enable us to cast a horoscope which shall reach all around eternity and half-way back, if not further?" "You do not understand me," said Mr. Whitechoker. "When I speak of the future, I do not mean the temporal future." "I know exactly what you mean," said the Idiot.
But it was not this that on Sunday mornings weighed on the mind of the Reverend Mr. Whitechoker. He appeared more serious of visage then because he had begun to think of late that his fellow-boarders lived too much in the present, and ignored almost totally that which might be expected to come.
The out-of-town papers would literally teem with witty extracts from our comedian's plays, which we should immediately recognize as the dicta of my poor self." "All of which," put in Mr. Whitechoker, "but proves the truth of my assertion that such a person would be an extremely objec "
"I'll ask you an easier one. Why does not the world recognize matrimony?" Mr. Whitechoker started. Here, indeed, was a novel proposition. "I I must confess," said he, "that of all the idiotic questions I er I have ever had the honor of hearing asked that takes the " "Cake?" suggested the Idiot. " palm!" said Mr. Whitechoker, severely. "Well, perhaps so," said the Idiot.
"And they lifted you out of the pit, I suppose?" sneered the Bibliomaniac. "I do not say that they did," said the Idiot, calmly. "But I do know that when I opened my eyes I wasn't in the pit any longer, but up-stairs in my hall-bedroom." "How awfully mysterious!" said the Doctor, satirically. "Well, I don't approve of smoking," said Mr. Whitechoker.
Pedagog," he added, rising to leave the room, "if I were you I'd give up the practice of chewing " "Hold on a minute, Mr. Idiot," said Mr. Whitechoker, interrupting. He was desirous that Mr. Pedagog should not be further irritated. "Let me ask you one question. Does your old father smoke?" "No," said the Idiot, leaning easily over the back of his chair "no. What of it?"
"True; but piano-playing isn't always music," returned the Idiot. "You might as well argue because the beasts and the birds do without these things man ought to. Fish don't smoke, neither do they join the police-force, therefore man should neither smoke nor become a guardian of the peace." "Nevertheless it is a pastime of perdition," insisted Mr. Whitechoker. "No, it isn't," retorted the Idiot.
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