Headlong Hall | Page 5

it to perfection[2.1], and insist on being planted in common
earth, it would have all the advantage of natural theory on its side that
the most strenuous advocate of the vegetable system could desire; but it
would soon discover the practical error of its retrograde experiment by
its lamentable inferiority in strength and beauty to all the auriculas
around it. I am afraid, in some instances at least, this analogy holds true
with respect to mind. No one will make a comparison, in point of
mental power, between the Hindoos and the ancient Greeks."
"The anatomy of the human stomach," said Mr Escot, "and the
formation of the teeth, clearly place man in the class of frugivorous
animals."
"Many anatomists," said Mr Foster, "are of a different opinion, and
agree in discerning the characteristics of the carnivorous classes."
"I am no anatomist," said Mr Jenkison, "and cannot decide where
doctors disagree; in the meantime, I conclude that man is omnivorous,
and on that conclusion I act."
"Your conclusion is truly orthodox," said the Reverend Doctor Gaster:
"indeed, the loaves and fishes are typical of a mixed diet; and the
practice of the Church in all ages shows----"
"That it never loses sight of the loaves and fishes," said Mr Escot.
"It never loses sight of any point of sound doctrine," said the reverend
doctor.
The coachman now informed them their time was elapsed; nor could all
the pathetic remonstrances of the reverend divine, who declared he had
not half breakfasted, succeed in gaining one minute from the inexorable
Jehu.
"You will allow," said Mr Foster, as soon as they were again in motion,
"that the wild man of the woods could not transport himself over two
hundred miles of forest, with as much facility as one of these vehicles
transports you and me through the heart of this cultivated country."

"I am certain," said Mr Escot, "that a wild man can travel an immense
distance without fatigue; but what is the advantage of locomotion? The
wild man is happy in one spot, and there he remains: the civilised man
is wretched in every place he happens to be in, and then congratulates
himself on being accommodated with a machine, that will whirl him to
another, where he will be just as miserable as ever."
We shall now leave the mail-coach to find its way to Capel Cerig, the
nearest point of the Holyhead road to the dwelling of Squire Headlong.
CHAPTER III
The Arrivals
In the midst of that scene of confusion thrice confounded, in which we
left the inhabitants of Headlong Hall, arrived the lovely Caprioletta
Headlong, the Squire's sister (whom he had sent for, from the residence
of her maiden aunt at Caernarvon, to do the honours of his house),
beaming like light on chaos, to arrange disorder and harmonise discord.
The tempestuous spirit of her brother became instantaneously as
smooth as the surface of the lake of Llanberris; and the little fat butler
"plessed Cot, and St Tafit, and the peautiful tamsel," for being
permitted to move about the house in his natural pace. In less than
twenty-four hours after her arrival, everything was disposed in its
proper station, and the Squire began to be all impatience for the
appearance of his promised guests.
The first visitor with whom he had the felicity of shaking hands was
Marmaduke Milestone, Esquire, who arrived with a portfolio under his
arm. Mr Milestone[3.1] was a picturesque landscape gardener of the
first celebrity, who was not without hopes of persuading Squire
Headlong to put his romantic pleasure-grounds under a process of
improvement, promising himself a signal triumph for his incomparable
art in the difficult and, therefore, glorious achievement of polishing and
trimming the rocks of Llanberris.
Next arrived a post-chaise from the inn at Capel Cerig, containing the
Reverend Doctor Gaster. It appeared, that, when the mail-coach

deposited its valuable cargo, early on the second morning, at the inn at
Capel Cerig, there was only one post-chaise to be had; it was therefore
determined that the reverend Doctor and the luggage should proceed in
the chaise, and that the three philosophers should walk. When the
reverend gentleman first seated himself in the chaise, the windows were
down all round; but he allowed it to drive off under the idea that he
could easily pull them up. This task, however, he had considerable
difficulty in accomplishing, and when he had succeeded, it availed him
little; for the frames and glasses had long since discontinued their
ancient familiarity. He had, however, no alternative but to proceed, and
to comfort himself, as he went, with some choice quotations from the
book of Job. The road led along the edges of tremendous chasms, with
torrents dashing in the bottom; so that, if his teeth had not chattered