all this struck me as mighty singular; yet, upon second thoughts, there was something almost sublime in it. here was a man some twenty thousand miles from home, by the way of cape horn, that is—which was the only way he could get there—thrown among people as strange to him as though he were in the planet jupiter; and yet he seemed entirely at his ease; preserving the utmost serenity; content with his own companionship; always equal to himself. surely this was a touch of fine philosophy; though no doubt he had never heard there was such a thing as that. but, perhaps, to be true philosophers, we mortals should not be conscious of so living or so striving. so soon as i hear that such or such a man gives himself out for a philosopher, i conclude that, like the dyspeptic old woman, he must have "broken his digester."