Another was a man whose real name was Mowatt, but who was christened by the professional appellation of "Moudewart," (_moldewarp_,) sufficiently indicative of his calling in burrowing into the bowels of the earth. An old plasterer, too lazy to work, he had betaken himself to this trade from a mere love of the money, so that he behoved to rank in a much lower grade than the "Spune." Then, so essentially insensible was he to the honour of contributing to science, that he did not take on a particle of dignity, even from the sympathy of his fellow-labourers. It might be in vain that the "Spune" tried to impress him with the importance of his calling,--he was a man of merely so many pounds for what is in the bag, and no more. Without that principle of receptivity which enables a congenial soul to take on the reflection of the beauty or honour of an act, he was equally dead to the sublime inspiration of knowledge. Even Merry-Andrew had collected some scientific terms--such as _caput_, or _cranium_, sometimes even attempting _occiput_--all parts of the body with which alone he had anything to do in the process of abstraction; and as for the "Spune," he could even discourse of _tibias_ and _fibulas_, if he did not stagger under _os coccygis_, in a manner which might have made his companion prick up his ear at the wonder that any such head could carry such terms. But what can be done with a man who has no symptoms of a human soul but that which shews itself when the eye counts with something like pleasure the price of a human body? Yet, strange enough, and perhaps unjustly enough, the two others were not more prized by their patrons than this degraded son of science, who served their purpose equally well--a fact which would have brought down the learned dignity of his co-labourers if they had had sense enough to notice it.