"
"By Saint Mary," said Christie of the Clinthill, "if your worship had
told me that you had left such stores of wealth as you talk of at
Prudhoe Castle, Long Dickie and I would have had them off with us if
man and horse could have carried them; but you told us of no treasure
I wot of, save the silver tongs for turning up your mustachoes."
The knight treated this intruder's mistake--for certainly Christie had
no idea that all these epithets which sounded so rich and splendid,
were lavished upon a small quarto volume--with a stare, and then
turning again to Mary Avenel, the only person whom he thought worthy
to address, he proceeded in his strain of high-flown oratory, "Even
thus," said he, "do hogs contemn the splendour of Oriental pearls;
even thus are the delicacies of a choice repast in vain offered to the
long-eared grazer of the common, who turneth from them to devour a
thistle. Surely as idle is it to pour forth the treasures of oratory
before the eyes of the ignorant, and to spread the dainties of the
intellectual banquet before those who are, morally and metaphysically
speaking, no better than asses."
"Sir Knight, since that is your quality," said Edward, "we cannot
strive with you in loftiness of language; but I pray you in fair
courtesy, while you honour my father's house with your presence, to
spare us such vile comparisons."
"Peace, good villagio," said the knight, gracefully waving his hand,
"I prithee peace, kind rustic; and you, my guide, whom I may scarce
call honest, let me prevail upon you to imitate the laudable
taciturnity of that honest yeoman, who sits as mute as a mill-post,
and of that comely damsel, who seems as with her ears she drank in
what she did not altogether comprehend, even as a palfrey listening to
a lute, whereof, howsoever, he knoweth not the gamut.
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