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."

"I do; but why?--Hearken. You are one on whom I look with the least
loathing, and I care not, if, contrary to my wont, I waste a few words