was on fire."

"Why, sir, it must have been as bad as a hurricane!"

"No, no, not quite so bad--but it showed what a little knowledge of
philosophical arrangement could effect. We have no hurricanes in
England, Peter; but I have seen a very pretty whirlwind when I was at
Welcot Abbey."

"Indeed, sir."

"Yes, it cut four square haystacks quite round, and I lost twenty tons
of hay; it twisted the iron lamppost at the entrance just as a porpoise
twists a harpoon, and took up a sow and her litter of pigs that were
about a hundred yards from the back of the house, and landed them safe
over the house, to the front, with the exception of the old sow putting
her shoulder out."

"Indeed, sir."

"Yes, but what was strange, there were a great many rats in the hayrick,
and up they went with the hay. Now, Peter, by the laws of gravitation,
they naturally came down before the hay, and I was walking with my
greyhound, or rather terrier, and after one coming down close to her,
which she killed, it was quite ridiculous to notice her looking up in
the air, and watching for the others."

"A greyhound did you say, sir, or a terrier?"

"Both, Peter: the fact is, she had been a greyhound, but breaking her
fore-leg against a stump, when coursing, I had the other three amputated
as well, and then she made a capital terrier. She was a great favourite
of mine."

"Well," observed I, "I have read something like that in Baron
Munchausen."

"Mr Simple," said the captain, turning on his elbow and looking me
severely in the face, "what do you mean to imply?"

"O nothing, sir, but I have read a story of that kind."

"Most probably; the great art of invention is to found it upon facts.
There are some people who out of a mole-hill will make a mountain; and
facts and fiction become so blended now-a-days, that even truth becomes
a matter of doubt."

"Very true, sir," replied I; and as he did not speak for some minutes, I
ventured to bring my Bible to his bedside, as if I were reading it to
myself.

"What are you reading, Peter?" said he.

"Only a chapter in the Bible, sir," said I. "Would you like that I
should read aloud?"

"Yes, I'm very fond of the Bible--it's the book of _truth_. Peter, read
me about Jacob, and his weathering Esau with a mess of pottage, and
obtaining his father's blessing." I could not help thinking it singular
that he should select a portion in which, for divine reasons, a lie was
crowned with such succ