book to it, and read on. Tired at last, and almost infuriated with my obstinacy, he wished to take revenge for once, by a sally, full of salt and erudition, and said to me angrily, “It is in vain that you study continually, you will never be so learned as Pygmalion.” “Pygmalion a learned man!” exclaimed Fischer, bursting with laughter; “Are you astonished?” said the Major, “you see how ignorant you are, with all your books; you do not know, then, that Pygmalion, according to our Greek religion, was so learned a man, that having, in his house, a marble girl, he taught her to speak, read, and write!” “Ah! yes, yes, I remember now,” interrupted Fischer, “it was in the time of the Empress Anne!”
Our dear Major was not, however, satisfied with his brutal whims, and witty sarcasms in the carriage, but when he was out of it he exercised continual cruelties. Scarcely had we arrived at an inn, and the inn-keeper appeared, when he was treated with a couple of boxes on the ear, accompanied by a torrent
