“The natural and original man,” said he, “lived in the woods; the roots and fruits of the earth supplied his simple nutriment; he had few desires, and no diseases.  But, when he began to sacrifice victims on the altar of superstition, to pursue the goat and the deer, and, by the pernicious invention of fire, to pervert their flesh into food, luxury, disease, and premature death were let loose upon the world.  From that period the stature of mankind has been in a state of gradual diminution, and I have not the least doubt that it will continue to grow small by degrees, and lamentably less, till the whole race will vanish imperceptibly from the face of the earth.”

“I cannot agree,” said Mr. Foster, “in the consequences being so very disastrous, though I admit that in some respects the use of animal food retards the perfectibility of the species.”

“In the controversy concerning animal and vegetable food,” said Mr. Jenkison, “there is much to be said on both sides.  I content myself with a mixed diet, and make a point of eating whatever is placed before me, provided it be good in its kind.”

In this opinion his two brother philosophers practically coincided, though they both ran down the theory as highly detrimental to the best interests of man.

The discussion raged for some time on the question whether man was a carnivorous or frugivorous animal.

“I am no anatomist,” said Mr. Jenkison, “and cannot decide where doctors disagree; in the meantime, I conclude that man is omnivorous, and on that conclusion I act.”

“Your conclusion is truly orthodox,” said the Reverend Doctor Gaster; “indeed, the loaves and fishes are typical of a mixed diet; and the practise of the church in all ages shows——­”

“That it never loses sight of the loaves and fishes,” said Mr. Escot.

“It never loses sight of any point of sound doctrine,” said the reverend doctor.

The coachman now informed them their time was elapsed.

“You will allow,” said Mr. Foster, as soon as they were again in motion, “that the wild man of the woods could not transport himself over two hundred miles of forest with as much facility as one of these vehicles transports you and me.”

“I am certain,” said Mr. Escot, “that a wild man can travel an immense distance without fatigue; but what is the advantage of locomotion?  The wild man is happy in one spot, and there he remains; the civilised man is wretched in every place he happens to be in, and then congratulates himself on being accommodated with a machine that will whirl him to another, where he will be just as miserable as ever.”

II.—­The Squire and his Guests