n
society. But this is thinking like a fool. Solitude is only agreeable
when the power of having society is removed to a short space, and can be
commanded at pleasure. "It is not good for man to be alone." It blunts
our faculties and freezes our active virtues. And now, my watch pointing
to noon, I think after four hours' work I may indulge myself with a
walk. The dogs see me about to shut my desk, and intimate their
happiness by caresses and whining. By your leave, Messrs. Genii of the
Mountain library, if I come to your retreat I'll bring my dogs with me.

The day was showery, but not unpleasant--soft dropping rains, attended
by a mild atmosphere, that spoke of flowers in their seasons, and a
chirping of birds that had a touch of Spring in it. I had the patience
to get fully wet, and the grace to be thankful for it.

Come! a leetle flourish on the trumpet. Let us rouse the genius of this
same red mountain, so called because it is all the year covered with
roses. There can be no difficulty in finding it, for it lies towards the
Caspian, and is quoted in the Persian tales. Well, I open my
Ephemerides, form my scheme under the suitable planet, and the genie
obeys the invocation and appears.

Genie is a misshapen dwarf, with a huge jolter-head like that of
Boerhave on the Bridge,[278] his limbs and body marvellously shrunk and
disproportioned.

"Sir Dwarf," said I, undauntedly, "thy head is very large, and thy feet
and limbs somewhat small in proportion."

_Genie_. "I have crammed my head, even to the overflowing, with
knowledge; I have starved my limbs by disuse of exercise and denial of
sustenance!"

_Author_. "Can I acquire wisdom in thy solitary library?"

_G_. "Thou mayest!"

_A_. "On what conditions?"

_G_. "Renounce all gross and fleshly pleasure, eat pulse and drink
water, converse with none but the wise and learned, alive and dead!"

_A_. "Why, this were to die in the cause of wisdom."

_G_. "If you desire to draw from our library only the advantage of
seeming wise, you may have it consistent with all your favourite
enjoyments!"

_A_. "How much sleep?"

_G_. "A Lapland night--eight months out of the twelve!"

_A_. "Enough for a dormouse, most generous Genius.--A bottle of wine?"

_G_. "Two, if you please; but you must not seem to care for them--cigars
in loads, whisky in lashings; but they must be taken with an air of
contempt, a _floccipaucinihilipilification_ of all that can gratify the
outw