He sate down upon a stone nearly opposite to the Dwarf who, familiarized
with his presence, took no farther notice of him than by elevating his
huge mis-shapen head for the purpose of staring at him, and then again
sinking it upon his bosom, as if in profound meditation. Earnscliff
looked around him, and observed that the hermit had increased his
accommodations by the construction of a shed for the reception of his
goats.
"You labour hard, Elshie," he said, willing to lead this singular being
into conversation.
"Labour," re-echoed the Dwarf, "is the mildest evil of a lot so
miserable as that of mankind; better to labour like me, than sport like
you."
"I cannot defend the humanity of our ordinary rural sports, Elshie, and
yet--"
"And yet," interrupted the Dwarf, "they are better than your ordinary
business; better to exercise idle and wanton cruelty on mute fishes than
on your fellow-creatures. Yet why should I say so? Why should not the
whole human herd butt, gore, and gorge upon each other, till all are
extirpated but one huge and over-fed Behemoth, and he, when he had
throttled and gnawed the bones of all his fellows--he, when his prey
failed him, to be roaring whole days for lack of food, and, finally,
to die, inch by inch, of famine--it were a consummation worthy of the
race!"
"Your deeds are better, Elshie, than your words," answered Earnscliff;
"you labour to preserve the race whom your misanthropy slanders.
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