From Dover to the Wen by William Cobbett

From Dover to the Wen by William Cobbett

Author:William Cobbett
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780141932804
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2009-03-20T00:00:00+00:00


1. Whence comes the white clover, that comes up and covers all the ground, in America, where hard-wood trees, after standing for thousands of years, have been burnt down?

2. Whence come (in similar cases as to self-woods) the hurtle-berries in some places, and the raspberries in others?

3. Whence come fish in new made places where no fish have ever been put?

4. What causes horse-hair to become living things?

5. What causes frogs to come in drops of rain, or those drops of rain to turn to frogs, the moment they are on the earth?

6. What causes musquitoes to come in rain water caught in a glass, covered over immediately with oil paper, tied down and so kept till full of these winged torments?

7. What causes flounders, real little flat fish, brown on one side, white on the other, mouth side-ways, with tail, fins, and all, leaping alive, in the INSIDE of a rotten sheep’s and of every rotten sheep’s, LIVER?

There, prigs; answer these questions. Fifty might be given you; but these are enough. Answer these. I suppose you will not deny the facts? They are all notoriously true. The last, which of itself would be quite enough for you, will be attested on oath, if you like it, by any farmer, ploughman, and shepherd, in England. Answer this question 7, or hold your conceited gabble about the ‘impossibility’ of that which I need not here name.

Men of sense do not attempt to discover that which it is impossible to discover. They leave things pretty much as they find them; and take care, at least, not to make changes of any sort, without very evident necessity. The poor Baron, however, appeared to be quite eaten up with his ‘rational Christianity’. He talked like a man who has made a discovery of his own. He seemed as pleased as I, when I was a boy, used to be, when I had just found a rabbit’s stop, or a black‐bird’s nest full of young ones. I do not recollect what I said upon this occasion. It is most likely that I said nothing in contradiction to him. I saw the Baron many times after this, but I never talked with him about religion.

Before the summer of 1822, I had not seen him for a year or two, perhaps. But, in July of that year, on a very hot day, I was going down Rathbone Place, and, happening to cast my eye on the Baron’s house, I knocked at the door to ask how he was. His man servant came to the door, and told me that his master was at dinner. ‘Well, ’ said I, ‘never mind; give my best respects to him.’ But, the servant (who had always been with him since I knew him) begged me to come in, for that he was sure his master would be glad to see me. I thought, as it was likely that I might never see him again, I would go in. The servant announced me, and the Baron said, ‘Beg him to walk in.



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