ishes you complain of, he replacingly buds forth in the sound, even, beautiful and permanent virtues.' "
"Very philosophical again," was the contemptuous reply—the outward contempt, perhaps, proportioned to the inward misgiving. "Vastly philosophical, indeed, but tell me—to continue your analogy—since the second teeth followed—in fact, came from the first,—is there no chance the blemish may be transmitted ?"
"Not at all." Abating in humility as he gained in the argument. "The second teeth follow, but do not come from, the first; successors, not sons. The first teeth are not like the germ blossom of the apple, at once the father of, and incorporated into, the growth it foreruns; but they are thrust from their place by the independent undergrowth of the succeeding set—an illustration, by the way, which shows more for me than I meant, though not more than I wish."
"What does it show?" Surly-looking as a thunder cloud with the inkept unrest of unacknowledged conviction.
"It shows this, respected sir, that in the case of any boy, especially an ill one, to apply unconditionally the saying, that the 'child is father of the man', is, besides implying an uncharitable aspersion of the race, affirming a thing very wide of—"
"—Your analogy," like a snapping turtle.
"Yes, respected sir."
"But is analogy argument? You are a punster."
"Punster, respected sir?" with a look of being aggrieved.
