Kenelm Chillingly | Page 8

estate not to be aware that I have not
legally the power to saddle it with any bequest to your boy. The
New-born succeeds to the fee-simple as last in tail. But I intend, from
this moment, to lay by something every year for your son out of my
income; and, fond as I am of London for a part of the year, I shall now
give up my town-house. If I live to the years the Psalmist allots to man,
I shall thus accumulate something handsome for your son, which may
be taken in the way of compensation."
Mr. Gordon was by no means softened by this generous speech.
However, he answered more politely than was his wont, "My son will
be very much obliged to you, should he ever need your intended
bequest." Pausing a moment, he added with a cheerful smile, "A large
percentage of infants die before attaining the age of twenty-one."
"Nay, but I am told your son is an uncommonly fine healthy child."
"My son, Cousin Peter! I was not thinking of my son, but of yours.
Yours has a big head. I should not wonder if he had water in it. I don't
wish to alarm you, but he may go off any day, and in that case it is not
likely that Lady Chillingly will condescend to replace him. So you will
excuse me if I still keep a watchful eye on my rights; and, however
painful to my feelings, I must still dispute your right to cut a stick of
the field timber."
"That is nonsense, Gordon. I am tenant for life without impeachment of
waste, and can cut down all timber not ornamental."
"I advise you not, Cousin Peter. I have told you before that I shall try
the question at law, should you provoke it, amicably, of course. Rights
are rights; and if I am driven to maintain mine, I trust that you are of a
mind too liberal to allow your family affection for me and mine to be

influenced by a decree of the Court of Chancery. But my fly is waiting.
I must not miss the train."
"Well, good-by, Gordon. Shake hands."
"Shake hands!--of course, of course. By the by, as I came through the
lodge, it seemed to me sadly out of repair. I believe you are liable for
dilapidations. Good-by."
"The man is a hog in armour," soliloquized Sir Peter, when his cousin
was gone; "and if it be hard to drive a common pig in the way he don't
choose to go, a hog in armour is indeed undrivable. But his boy ought
not to suffer for his father's hoggishness; and I shall begin at once to
see what I can lay by for him. After all, it is hard upon Gordon. Poor
Gordon; poor fellow! poor fellow! Still I hope he will not go to law
with me. I hate law. And a worm will turn, especially a worm that is
put into Chancery."
CHAPTER VI.
DESPITE the sinister semi-predictions of the /ci-devant/ heir-at-law,
the youthful Chillingly passed with safety, and indeed with dignity,
through the infant stages of existence. He took his measles and
whooping-cough with philosophical equanimity. He gradually acquired
the use of speech, but he did not too lavishly exercise that special
attribute of humanity. During the earlier years of childhood he spoke as
little as if he had been prematurely trained in the school of Pythagoras.
But he evidently spoke the less in order to reflect the more. He
observed closely and pondered deeply over what he observed. At the
age of eight he began to converse more freely, and it was in that year
that he startled his mother with the question, "Mamma, are you not
sometimes overpowered by the sense of your own identity?"
Lady Chillingly,--I was about to say rushed, but Lady Chillingly never
rushed,--Lady Chillingly glided less sedately than her wont to Sir Peter,
and repeating her son's question, said, "The boy is growing
troublesome, too wise for any woman: he must go to school."

Sir Peter was of the same opinion. But where on earth did the child get
hold of so long a word as "identity," and how did so extraordinary and
puzzling a metaphysical question come into his head? Sir Peter
summoned Kenelm, and ascertained that the boy, having free access to
the library, had fastened upon Locke on the Human Understanding, and
was prepared to dispute with that philosopher upon the doctrine of
innate ideas. Quoth Kenelm, gravely, "A want is an idea; and if, as
soon as I was born, I felt the want of food and knew at once where to
turn for it, without being taught, surely I came into the world with an
'innate idea.'"
Sir Peter, though