docility of a man that he learns not only to do the common offices of life, but also to play on the flute_ and French horn; _which shows that he must have an idea of melody and concord of sounds, which no brute animal has;—and lastly, if joined to all these qualities he has the organ of pronunciation, and consequently the capacity of speech, though not the actual use of it; if, I say, such an animal be not a man, I should desire to know in what the essence of a man consists, and what it is that distinguishes a natural man from the man of art_.[22] That he understands many words, though he does not yet speak any, I think you may have observed, when you asked him to take wine, and applied to him for fish and partridge.[23] _Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ The gestures, however slight, that accompany the expression of the ordinary forms of intercourse, may possibly explain that. _Mr. Forester._ You will find that he understands many things addressed to him on occasions of very unfrequent occurrence. _With regard to his moral character, he is undoubtedly a man, and a much better man than many that are to be found in civilised countries_,[24] as, when you are better acquainted with him, I feel very confident you will readily acknowledge.[25] _Sir Telegraph Paxarett._ I shall be very happy, when his election comes on for Onevote, to drive him down in my barouche to the honourable and ancient borough. Mr. Forester promised to avail himself of this proposal; when the iron tongue of midnight tolling twelve induced them to separate for the night. CHAPTER VII THE PRINCIPLE OF POPULATION The next morning, while Sir Telegraph, Sir Oran, and Mr. Forester were sitting down to their breakfast, a post-chaise rattled up to the door; the glass was let down, and a tall, thin, pale, grave-looking personage peeped from the aperture. ‘This is Mr. Fax,’ said Mr. Forester, ‘the champion of calm reason, the indefatigable explorer of the cold clear springs of knowledge, the bearer of the torch of dispassionate truth, that gives more light than warmth. He looks on the human world, the world of mind, the conflict of interests, the collision of feelings, the infinitely diversified developments of energy and intelligence, as a mathematician looks on his diagrams, or a mechanist on his wheels and pulleys, as if they were foreign to his own nature, and were nothing more than subjects of curious speculation.’ Mr. Forester had not time to say more; for Mr. Fax entered, and shook hands with him, was introduced in due form to Sir Telegraph, and sat down to assist in the demolition of the _matériel_ of breakfast. _Mr. Fax._ Your Redrose Abbey is a beautiful metamorphosis.—I can scarcely believe that these are the mouldering walls of the pious fraternity of Rednose, which I contemplated two years ago.