REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. Bless me, sir, a terrible progeny: they belong
to the tribe of Incubi.

MR. CROTCHET. The great philosopher, Diderot -

REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. Sir, Diderot is not a man after my heart. Keep
to the Greeks, if you please; albeit this Sleeping Venus is not an
antique.

MR. CROTCHET. Well, sir, the Greeks: why do we call the Elgin
marbles inestimable? Simply because they are true to nature. And
why are they so superior in that point to all modern works, with
all our greater knowledge of anatomy? Why, sir, but because the
Greeks, having no cant, had better opportunities of studying
models?

REV. DR. FOLLIOTT. Sir, I deny our greater knowledge of anatomy.
But I shall take the liberty to employ, on this occasion, the
argumentum ad hominem. Would you have allowed Miss Crotchet to sit
for a model to Canova?

MR. CROTCHET. Yes, sir.

"God bless my soul, sir!" exclaimed the Reverend Doctor Folliott,
throwing himself back into a chair, and flinging up his heels, with
the premeditated design of giving emphasis to his exclamation; but
by miscalculating his impetus, he overbalanced his chair, and laid
himself on the carpet in a right angle, of which his back was the
base.