“Thankee, sir, thankee,” returned that gentleman. “And how do you like the law?”
“A—not particularly,” returned Eugene.
“Too dry for you, eh? Well, I suppose it wants some years of sticking to, before you master it. But there’s nothing like work. Look at the bees.”
“I beg your pardon,” returned Eugene, with a reluctant smile, “but will you excuse my mentioning that I always protest against being referred to the bees?”
“Do you!” said Mr. Boffin.
“I object on principle,” said Eugene, “as a biped—”
“As a what?” asked Mr. Boffin.
“As a two-footed creature;—I object on principle, as a two-footed creature, to being constantly referred to insects and four-footed creatures. I object to being required to model my proceedings according to the proceedings of the bee, or the dog, or the spider, or the camel. I fully admit that the camel, for instance, is an excessively temperate person; but he has several stomachs to entertain himself with, and I have only one. Besides, I am not fitted up with a convenient cool cellar to keep my drink in.”
“But I said, you know,” urged Mr. Boffin, rather at a loss for an answer, “the bee.”
“Exactly. And may I represent to you that it’s injudicious to say the bee? For the whole case is assumed. Conceding for a moment that there is any analogy between a bee, and a man in a shirt and pantaloons (which I deny), and that it is settled that the man is to learn from the bee (which I also deny), the question still remains, what is he to learn? To imitate?