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Knowledge! It is his plaything.
Say, you who think it so easy to climb into the judgment-seat above,
can you tell me any thing of the beginning and the end? Nay, you're a
dealer in ailings and cures: what is life, and what is death? Why does
the eagle live so long, and why is the time of the butterfly so short?
Tell me a simpler thing: why is this hound so uneasy, while you, who
have passed your days in looking into books, can see no reason to be
disturbed?"
The Doctor, who had been a little astounded by the dignity and energy
of the old man, drew a long breath, like a sullen wrestler who is just
released from the throttling grasp of his antagonist, and seized on
the opportunity of the pause to reply--
"It is his instinct."
"And what is the gift of instinct?"
"An inferior gradation of reason. A sort of mysterious combination of
thought and matter."
"And what is that which you call thought?"
"Venerable venator, this is a method of reasoning which sets at nought
the uses of definitions, and such as I do assure you is not at all
tolerated in the schools.


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