'"If thine eye be single, thy whole body shall be full of light."' Grimsby repulsed him with a solemn wave of the hand, and then turning to me, continued, with the same drawling tones and strange uncertainty of utterance and heavy gravity of aspect as before: 'But as I was saying, Mrs.Huntingdon, they have no head at all: they can't take half a bottle without being affected some way; whereas I--well, I've taken three times as much as they have to-night, and you see I'm perfectly steady.

Now that may strike you as very singular, but I think I can explain it: you see their brains--I mention no names, but you'll understand to whom I allude--their brains are light to begin with, and the fumes of the fermented liquor render them lighter still, and produce an entire light-headedness, or giddiness, resulting in intoxication; whereas my brains, being composed of more solid materials, will absorb a considerable quantity of this alcoholic vapour without the production of any sensible result--' 'I think you will find a sensible result produced on that tea,' interrupted Mr.Hargrave, 'by the quantity of sugar you have put into it.
Instead of your usual complement of one lump, you have put in six.' 'Have I so ?' replied the philosopher, diving with his spoon into the cup, and bringing up several half-dissolved pieces in confirmation of the assertion.

'Hum! I perceive.

Thus, Madam, you see the evil of absence of mind--of thinking too much while engaged in the common concerns of life.

Now, if I had had my wits about me, like ordinary men, instead of within me like a philosopher, I should not have spoiled this cup of tea, and been constrained to trouble you for another.' 'That is the sugar-basin, Mr.Grimsby.