the ground does upon us.
After we had been here sufficiently long to see what was most remarkable in
the city, and I had committed the fruit of my observations to paper, the
Brahmin proposed to carry me to one of the monthly suppers of a philosopher
whom he knew, and who had obtained great celebrity by his writings and
opinions.
We accordingly went, and found him sitting at a small table, and apparently
exhausted with the labour of composition, and the ardour of intense
thought. He was a small man, of quick, abrupt manners, occasionally very
abstracted, but more frequently voluble, earnest, and disputatious. He
frankly told us he was sorry to see us, as he was then putting the last
finish to a great and useful work he was about to publish: that we had thus
unseasonably broken the current of his thoughts, and he might not be able
to revive it for some days. Upon my rising to take my leave, he assured me
that it would be adding to the injury already done, if we then quitted him.
He said he wished to learn the particulars of our voyage; and that he, in
turn, should certainly render us service, by disclosing some of the results
of his own reflections. He further remarked, that he expected six or eight
friends--that is, (correcting himself,) "enlightened and congenial minds,"
to supper, on the rising of a constellation he named, which time, he
remarked, would soon arrive. Finding his frankness to be thus seasoned with
hospitality, we resumed our seats. It soon appeared that he was more
disposed to communicate information than to seek it; and I became a patient
listener. If the boldness and strangeness of his opinions occasionally
startled me, I could not but admire the clearness with which he stated his
propositions, the fervour of his elocution, and the plausibility of his
arguments.
The expected guests at length arrived; and various questions of morals and
legislation were started, in which the disputants seemed sometimes as if
they would have laid aside the character of philosophers, but for the
seasonable interposition of the Brahmin. Wigurd, our host, often laboured
with his accustomed zeal, to prove that every one who opposed him, was
either a fool, or biassed by some petty interest, or the dupe of blind
prejudice.
After about two hours of warm, and, as it seemed to me, unprofitable
discussion, we were summoned to our repast in the adjoining room. But
before we rose from our seats, our host requested to know of
|