the poet at the breakfast table-第17章

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he　had　not　seemed　to　me　much　like　a　human　being；　until　all　at　once　I
touched　the　one　point　where　his　vitality　had　concentrated　itself；　and
he　stood　revealed　a　man　and　a　brother。

Come　in；said　he；come　in；　right　after　breakfast；　and　you　shall
see　the　animal　that　has　convulsed　the　entomological　world　with
questions　as　to　his　nature　and　origin。

So　I　went　into　the　Scarabee's　parlor；　lodging…room；　study；
laboratory；　and　museum；asingle　apartment　applied　to　these　various
uses；　you　understand。

I　wish　I　had　time　to　have　you　show　me　all　your　treasures；I　said；
but　I　am　afraid　I　shall　hardly　be　able　to　do　more　than　look　at　the
bee…parasite。　　But　what　a　superb　butterfly　you　have　in　that　case！

Oh；　yes；　yes；　well　enough；came　from　South　America　with　the　beetle
there；　look　at　him！　　These　Lepidoptera　are　for　children　to　play　with；
pretty　to　look　at；　so　some　think。　　Give　me　the　Coleoptera；　and　the
kings　of　the　Coleoptera　are　the　beetles！　　Lepidoptera　and　Neuroptera
for　little　folks；　Coleopteras　for　men；　sir！

The　particular　beetle　he　showed　me　in　the　case　with　the　magnificent
butterfly　was　an　odious　black　wretch　that　one　would　say；　Ugh！　at；　and
kick　out　of　his　path；　if　he　did　not　serve　him　worse　than　that。　　But
he　looked　at　it　as　a　coin…collector　would　look　at　a　Pescennius　Niger；
if　the　coins　of　that　Emperor　are　as　scarce　as　they　used　to　be　when　I
was　collecting　half…penny　tokens　and　pine…tree　shillings　and　battered
bits　of　Roman　brass　with　the　head　of　Gallienus　or　some　such　old
fellow　on　them。

A　beauty！he　exclaimed；and　the　only　specimen　of　the　kind　in　this
country；　to　the　best　of　my　belief。　　A　unique；　sir；　and　there　is　a
pleasure　in　exclusive　possession。　　Not　another　beetle　like　that　short
of　South　America；　sir。

I　was　glad　to　hear　that　there　were　no　more　like　it　in　this
neighborhood；　the　present　supply　of　cockroaches　answering　every
purpose；　so　far　as　I　am　concerned；　that　such　an　animal　as　this　would
be　likely　to　serve。

Here　are　my　bee…parasites；said　the　Scarabee；　showing　me　a　box
full　of　glass　slides；　each　with　a　specimen　ready　mounted　for　the
microscope。　　I　was　most　struck　with　one　little　beast　flattened　out
like　a　turtle；　semi…transparent；　six…legged；　as　I　remember　him；　and
every　leg　terminated　by　a　single　claw　hooked　like　a　lion's　and　as
formidable　for　the　size　of　the　creature　as　that　of　the　royal　beast。

Lives　on　a　bumblebee；　does　he？I　said。　　That's　the　way　I　call　it。
Bumblebee　or　bumblybee　and　huckleberry。　　Humblebee　and　whortleberry
for　people　that　say　Woos…ses…ter　and　Nor…wich。

The　Scarabee　did　not　smile；　he　took　no　interest　in　trivial　matters
like　this。

Lives　on　a　bumblebee。　　When　you　come　to　think　of　it；　he　must　lead　a
pleasant　kind　of　life。　　Sails　through　the　air　without　the　trouble　of
flying。　　Free　pass　everywhere　that　the　bee　goes。　　No　fear　of　being
dislodged；　look　at　those　six　grappling…hooks。　　Helps　himself　to　such
juices　of　the　bee　as　he　likes　best；　the　bee　feeds　on　the　choicest
vegetable　nectars；　and　he　feeds　on　the　bee。　　Lives　either　in　the　air
or　in　the　perfumed　pavilion　of　the　fairest　and　sweetest　flowers。
Think　what　tents　the　hollyhocks　and　the　great　lilies　spread　for　him！
And　wherever　he　travels　a　band　of　music　goes　with　him；　for　this　hum
which　wanders　by　us　is　doubtless　to　him　a　vast　and　inspiring　strain
of　melody。　I　thought　all　this；　while　the　Scarabee　supposed　I　was
studying　the　minute　characters　of　the　enigmatical　specimen。

I　know　what　I　consider　your　pediculus　melittae；　I　said　at　length。

Do　you　think　it　really　the　larva　of　meloe？

Oh；　I　don't　know　much　about　that；　but　I　think　he　is　the　best　cared
for；　on　the　whole；　of　any　animal　that　I　know　of；　and　if　I　wasn't　a
man　I　believe　I　had　rather　be　that　little　sybarite　than　anything　that
feasts　at　the　board　of　nature。

The　question　is；　whether　he　is　the　larva　of　meloe；the　Scarabee
said；　as　if　he　had　not　heard　a　word　of　what　I　had　just　been　saying。
If　I　live　a　few　years　longer　it　shall　be　settled；　sir；　and　if　my
epitaph　can　say　honestly　that　I　settled　it；　I　shall　be　willing　to
trust　my　posthumous　fame　to　that　achievement。

I　said　good　morning　to　the　specialist；　and　went　off　feeling　not　only
kindly；　but　respectfully　towards　him。　　He　is　an　enthusiast；　at　any
rate；　as　〃earnest〃　a　man　as　any　philanthropic　reformer　who；　having
passed　his　life　in　worrying　people　out　of　their　misdoings　into　good
behavior；　comes　at　last　to　a　state　in　which　he　is　never　contented
except　when　he　is　making　somebody　uncomfortable。　　He　does　certainly
know　one　thing　well；　very　likely　better　than　anybody　in　the　world。

I　find　myself　somewhat　singularly　placed　at　our　table　between　a
minute　philosopher　who　has　concentrated　all　his　faculties　on　a　single
subject；　and　my　friend　who　finds　the　present　universe　too　restricted
for　his　intelligence。　　I　would　not　give　much　to　hear　what　the
Scarabee　says　about　the　old　Master；　for　he　does　not　pretend　to　form　a
judgment　of　anything　but　beetles；　but　I　should　like　to　hear　what　the
Master　has　to　say　about　the　Scarabee。　　I　waited　after　breakfast　until
he　had　gone；　and　then　asked　the　Master　what　he　could　make　of　our
dried…up　friend。

Well；he　said；I　am　hospitable　enough　in　my　feelings　to　him　and
all　his　tribe。　　These　specialists　are　the　coral…insects　that　build　up
a　reef。　　By　and　by　it　will　be　an　island；　and　for　aught　we　know　may
grow　into　a　continent。　　But　I　don't　want　to　be　a　coral…insect　myself。
I　had　rather　be　a　voyager　that　visits　all　the　reefs　and　islands　the
creatures　build；　and　sails　over　the　seas　where　they　have　as　yet　built
up　nothing。　　I　am　a　little　afraid　that　science　is　breeding　us　down
too　fast　into　coral…insects。　　A　man　like　Newton　or　Leibnitz　or　Haller
used　to　paint　a　picture　of　outward　or　inward　nature　with　a　free　hand；
and　stand　back　and　look　at　it　as　a　whole　and　feel　like　an　archangel；
but　nowadays　you　have　a　Society；　and　they　come　together　and　make　a
great　mosaic；　each　man　bringing　his　little　bit　and　sticking　it　in　its
place；　but　so　taken　up　with　his　petty　fragment　that　he　never　thinks
of　looking　at　the　picture　the　little　bits　make　when　they　are　put
together。　　You　can't　get　any　talk　out　of　these　specialists　away　from
their　own　subjects；　any　more　than　you　can　get　help　from　a　policeman
outside　of　his　own　beat。

Yes；said　I；but　why　should　n't　we　always　set　a　man　talking　about
the　thing　he　knows　best？

No　doubt；　no　doubt；　if　you　meet　him　once；　but　what　are　you　going　to
do　with　him　if　you　meet　him　every　day？　　I　travel　with　a　man　and　we
want　to　make　change　very　often　in　paying　bills。　　But　every　time　I　ask
him　to　change　a　pistareen；　or　give　me　two　fo'pencehappennies　for　a
ninepence；　or　help　me　to　make　out　two　and　thrippence　（mark　the　old
Master's　archaisms　about　the　currency）；　what　does　the　fellow　do　but
put　his　hand　in　his　pocket　and　pull　out　an　old　Roman　coin；　I　have　no
change；　says　he；　but　this　assarion　of　Diocletian。　　Mighty　deal　of
good　that'll　do　me！

It　isn't　quite　so　handy　as　a　few　specimens　of　the　modern　currency
would　be；　but　you　can　pump　him　on　numismatics。

To　be　sure；　to　be　sure。　　I've　pumped　a　thousand　men　of　all　they
could　teach　me；　or　at　least　all　I　could　learn　from　'em；　and　if　it
comes　to　that；　I　never　saw　the　man　that　couldn't　teach　me　something。
I　can　get　along　with　everybody　in　his　place；　though　I　think　the　place
of　some　of　my　friends　is　over　there　among　the　feeble…minded　pupils；
and　I　don't　believe　there's　one　of　them；　I　couldn't　go　to　school　to
for　half　an　hour　and　be　the　wiser　for　it。　　But　people　you　talk　with
every　day　have　got　to　have　feeders　for　their　minds；　as　much　as　the
stream　that　turns　a　millwheel　has。　　It　isn't　one　little　rill　that's
going　to　keep　the　float…boards　turning　round。　　Take　a　dozen　of　the
brightest　men　you　can　find　in　the　brightest　city；　wherever　that　may
be；perhaps　you　and　I　think　we　know；and　let　'em　come　together　once
a　month；　and　you'll　find　out　in　the　course　of　a　year　or　two　the　ones
that　have　feeders　from　all　the　hillsides。　　Your　common　talkers；　that
exchange　the　gossip　of　the　day；　have　no　wheel　in　particular　to　turn；
and　the　wash　of　the　rain　as　it　runs　down　the　street　is　enough　for
them。

Do　you　mean　you　can　always　see　the　sources　from　which　a　man　fills
his　mind；his