The spectacle produced correspondent emotions in his companions. Paul
Hover had actually swallowed each syllable of the discourse as they
fell alternately from the different speakers, his feelings keeping
equal pace with the increasing interest of the scene. Unused to such
strange sensations, he was turning his face on every side of him, to
avoid he knew not what, until he saw the tears and heard the sobs of
the old man, when he sprang to his feet, and grappling his guest
fiercely by the throat, he demanded by what authority he had made his
aged companion weep. A flash of recollection crossing his brain at the
same instant, he released his hold, and stretching forth an arm in the
very wantonness of gratification, he seized the Doctor by the hair,
which instantly revealed its artificial formation, by cleaving to his
hand, leaving the white and shining poll of the naturalist with a
covering no warmer than the skin.
"What think you of that, Mr. Bug-gatherer?" he rather shouted than
cried: "is not this a strange bee to line into his hole?"
"'Tis remarkable! wonderful! edifying!" returned the lover of nature,
good-humouredly recovering his wig, with twinkling eyes and a husky
voice.
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