The Brass Bottle: A Farcical Fantastic Play in Four Acts

s rather t

erg. Podbury on a bench, grappli

m-um ... "opposite absurdities"-"subjective modifications" ... "ultimate scientific ideas, then, are all representative of ideas that cannot be comprehended." I could have told him that. What bally rot this Philosophy is-but I suppose I must peg away at it. Didn't she say she was so

ing the problems of existence to tolerate humour in its literature. Humour has served a certa

ppreciated is that of the ancient classics. There has been

Oh, I say, come, Miss Prendergast.

ession that all frogs jumped

y anyhow. But I'm going in for study now. I am-honour bright!

NG WITH THE EPI

chanted by the logical luc

mind the following:-That of the whole incident force affecting an aggregate, the effective force is that which remains after deducting the non-effective, that the temporarily effective and the pe

, I see nothing particularl

rdly expect to master the Spencerian phraseology and habit of

you find him plain-sai

ncountered any insuperable di

ideas, are homogeneous entities which may be differentiated objectively or subjectively, according as they are presented as Noumenon or Phenomenon. Or, in o

ense). It's simple enough, my dear fellow, only I can't expect you to

ecstasy.) I knew I'd have you! Why, I made that up myself as I went

s with l

Culchard has evidently gone through t

, if Mr. Podbury descends to childish

y precision"! I've got more profound truth where that came from. I say, I shall set up as an intellec

from that very small joke, you will perhaps allow Miss Prendergast to sit

he parapet, while Podbury makes

sketches). I wish your brother Bob ha

too bad of you, thou

fer than I am, then. But I say, you don't really t

ave got us both into sad disgrace. Mr. Culchard i

t! And before Her too! And when I had made it all right about the other evening, and was producing an excellent impression on the

). I say, how awf

h me is a pastime, not a serious pursuit. (They go on conversing in a

ulchard, and touches his sh

ow, look here, Podbury. I'm not in t

ss Prendergast wants a figure for her foreground, and I said I'd a

n my word, it would serve her right to-but no, I won't be petty. (Aloud.) Pray t

lly, old chap. I

nd her only. (Raising his voice, without turning his h

ou. It-it's so much more n-natural, don't y

liar position with Miss Trotter-(Maud, that is)-not that there's anything definite at present, still--(Aloud.) Ahem, Miss Prendergast-am I standing as you wish? (To himself.) She doesn't answer-too absorbed, and I can't hear that idiot-found he hasn't scored so much after all, and gone off in a huff, I expect. So much the better! What a time she is over this, and how quiet she keeps! I wish I knew whether it was coquetry or-shall I turn round and see? No, I must be perfectly indifferent. And she did laugh at me. I distinctly saw her. Still, if she's sorry