The scholar in the window

11 June, in the year of our Lord 2020

Up and well slept, with onlie one mouse announcement, dismissed at four a’clock, my vexation clocked by the cat who dared not appeare again till breakfast. The day wet, so I to buy victuals and hunker down, the air outside so cold my very breath did cloud in it, as if in January rather than in June. To my chamber all afternoon. Before supper did arrive Mr. M. Jones, when merrie discourse for he with what I likened to a crystal ball but flat, like a window he could hold in one hand; and Lord, to see it lighted up and inside it the image of a man who could move and speake with a Noise I could heare, and it seemed a mightie wondrous thing onlie I could not fathom how it worked for lack of strings and pullies and only prodding to get it going. Anon, and we watched a Scholar in the crystal screen for an hour, erudite and talking of our Mountains and how he thinks they were made, but if the Mechanisme itself I could not comprehend, the things of which he spoke more, for they the most foolish and ridiculous I did ever hear in my entire life: that there are more Masses of land in the world than I know of, which is Evrope and the Plymouth Colony, and they float around the globe like fillets in a vat, and by and by bump into one another by an accident that crumples up their edges like my carriage its fender when it met my wall (as happened two months past and vexed me for I could blame no other since the wall did not move), and this is why there are mountains, which then are rubbed away by the Aire, the weather in it and doubtless the stream above the clouds that no one sees, by which means the mountains are made smaller, into hills until they are flatted all together, and all taking longer than it says in the entire Bible since Adam. This is more preposterouse even than the great Ideas of Mr. Nic. Copernickus and Mr. I. Newton, in which I find good matter though I understand not one Tenth word of what they write, and I will stick with Alchemy for I know where I am with that, and when all these alleged Truths are found wanting it is the one that will persist. On the other hand, if we could tow Britain to the Canarys we might have better weather. And so to bed.

By andywmacfarlane

I am a retired medic who likes messing around with a bit of writing, and friends seemed to like my social media postings of "Samuel Pepys: The Covid Diaries". So I'm having a go at blogging them.

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