Round shoulders,--stooping over some
minute labor, I suppose. Very slender limbs, with bends like a
grasshopper's; sits a great deal, I presume; looks as if he might
straighten them out all of a sudden, and jump instead of walking. Wears
goggles very commonly; says it rests his eyes, which he strains in
looking at very small objects. Voice has a dry creak, as if made by some
small piece of mechanism that wanted oiling. I don't think he is a
botanist, for he does not smell of dried herbs, but carries a camphorated
atmosphere about with him, as if to keep the moths from attacking him. I
must find out what is his particular interest. One ought to know
something about his immediate neighbors at the table. This is what I
said to myself, before opening a conversation with him. Everybody in our
ward of the city was in a great stir about a certain election, and I
thought I might as well begin with that as anything.
--How do you think the vote is likely to go tomorrow?--I said.
--It isn't to-morrow,--he answered,--it 's next month.
--Next month!--said I.---Why, what election do you mean?
--I mean the election to the Presidency of the Entomological Society,
sir,--he creaked, with an air of surprise, as if nobody could by any
possibility have been thinking of any other. Great competition, sir,
between the dipterists and the lepidopterists as to which shall get in
their candidate.
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