Легенда о Сонной Лощине
Postscript.
Whenthemirthoftherestofthecompanyhadsubsided,andsilencewasrestored,heleanedonearmontheelbowofhischair,andstickingtheotherakimbo,demanded,withaslight,butexceedinglysagemotionofthehead,andcontractionofthebrow,whatwasthemoralofthestory,andwhatitwenttoprove?
Thestory-teller,whowasjustputtingaglassofwinetohislips,asarefreshmentafterhistoils,pausedforamoment,lookedathisinquirerwithanairofinfinitedeference,and,loweringtheglassslowlytothetable,observedthatthestorywasintendedmostlogicallytoprove--
“Thatthereisnosituationinlifebuthasitsadvantagesandpleasures--providedwewillbuttakeajokeaswefindit:
“That,therefore,hethatrunsraceswithgoblintroopersislikelytohaveroughridingofit.
“Ergo,foracountryschoolmastertoberefusedthehandofaDutchheiressisacertainsteptohighprefermentinthestate.”
Thecautiousoldgentlemanknithisbrowstenfoldcloserafterthisexplanation,beingsorelypuzzledbytheratiocinationofthesyllogism,while,methought,theoneinpepper-and-salteyedhimwithsomethingofatriumphantleer.Atlengthheobservedthatallthiswasverywell,butstillhethoughtthestoryalittleontheextravagant--therewereoneortwopointsonwhichhehadhisdoubts.
“Faith,sir,”repliedthestory-teller,“astothatmatter,Idon’tbelieveone-halfofitmyself.”D.K.
THEEND.
