Marginalia, no.200

According to a local tradition, an ordinary hen’s egg, if it is kept warm in the human armpit during the whole of Lent, hatches out on Easter Day and reveals a manikin three inches high, who at once prostrates himself before his foster-father and swears eternal obedience to him.

~ Patrick Leigh Fermor, The Traveller’s Tree

He says his name is Himmelfarb, if you can believe it. Endearing at first, the constant bowing is starting to bug. Every time I look at him he falls to his knees and taps his forehead to the table. “Dear God,” he asked me last night, “how should I live? What would you have me do? I only want to be your image and will in everything.” But the thimbleful of scotch I gave him was a mistake, and he was nearly pressed flat when the hardcover Montaigne closed up on him. My armpit is still sore.

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Marginalia

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s