There were once five learned men, who had been shut up all their lives in their studies, poking their noses into saucepans full of cookeries, which did not resemble savory soups or well-flavored ragoûts, wearing their eyes out with reading books printed in the crabbedest black letter possible, and shrivelling up their brains with thinking, until they quite rattled inside their skulls, all in pursuit of out-o’-the-way knowledge.

There was really nothing scientific with which they were not acquainted; while, in the mean time, one or two little things, perfectly familiar to people who use their eyes for the purpose of noticing the common occurrences and habits of every-day existence, and exercise their understanding in everything that can make life comfortable and agreeable, had entirely escaped the observation of our philosophers.

As the emperor allowed them each a handsome pension to advance the interests of science, they went on with their discoveries rejoicing, and for a long time had never stirred from their apartments in one of His Majesty’s country palaces.  They scarcely left off thinking, when they were asleep; never had the least idea what they were eating for dinner, or even what the materials of that dinner looked like; and, in short, were sublimely unconscious of any of the ordinary affairs or interests of life; and thought only of sciences, and high-flown theories of Health, of Natural Philosophy, Chemistry, Botany, and goodness knows what beside.  The fifth and last of the learned men was supposed to consider silence as an art or science, since he hardly ever said anything; and for that reason was thought to be wiser than the other four put together.

At last, one fine morning, one of our learned men chanced to poke his head out of the window, to see what on earth had become of one of his glass retorts, which he had filled with gas until it went off like a rocket; and could not help being struck with the blue sky, the fresh green herbage, and the thousands of beautiful wild flowers that sprinkled the grass.  It was a charming summer day; the birds had not yet left off singing, and the fresh breeze, fanning the bald forehead of the philosopher, appeared wonderfully pleasant.

“Why, bless me!” cried the philosopher, whose name was Dr. Skihi; “while I have been trying to reduce chemistry to the uses of a penny post, I never thought of remarking whether it was a pleasant day or not.  How bright and beautiful everything looks!  Out-of-doors is a very good sort of thing, after all.  I declare, I’ve a great mind pooh! nonsense; science glorious science, is a great deal more to be regarded than a fine day in the country.”

So saying, he drew his head in again, and turned to his books and saucepans; for, you see, he was trying to condense gas, and make it dart through the air like a skyrocket, carrying a letter, or a telegraphic message, or even a traveller with it, if it was made strong enough; but, so far, he had only succeeded in breaking his retorts, and blowing himself up till his head came bump against the ceiling, and knocked off little bits of plaster.  Everything in the study looked remarkably dingy after the freshness of the fields, and the doctor could not refrain from taking another peep.  This time, the contrast appeared even greater than before, while directly underneath his window there now stood two pretty little girls, one holding a great bunch of roses and other blooming flowers, and both intent on a long leaf of manuscript, which they were puzzling and laughing over, calling it “such a silly thing!” Our doctor, to his great dudgeon, recognized it as part of a learned treatise, his own production, which had accidentally blown out of the window; but, as to be known as the writer of silly things is not specially dignified, he preferred saying nothing about the matter.

“I have a great mind,” he said again; “yes, I’ll go and ask Dr. Sheepshanks if he does not think it would be a good plan for us to take a short trip into the country.  No doubt we should make some very important discoveries.”

Excusing the idea to himself in this way, Dr. Skihi toddled up one pair of stairs and down two pair of stairs, and straight along a crooked corridor, and all round a square hall, until he arrived at the apartments of Dr. Sheepshanks.  He knocked at the door, and peeped through the keyhole until he was told to come in, when he opened the door softly, and shut it with an astonished bang, that made all the spiders, who were dancing hornpipes in all the corners (for the learned men would have died rather than have their sacred studies disturbed by a house-cleaning) stand on one leg for several minutes with surprise, as a noise in the philosophers’ palace was a thing rather more seldom met with than a crononhotonthologos.

The sight that caused Dr. Skihi to commit such a breach of good manners was Dr. Sheepshanks in the very middle of a summersault! with his flowered dressing gown about his ears and his spindle shanks and black stockings in the air, looking not unlike a two-legged radish growing upside down.

To him rushed Dr. Skihi, who, catching his friend by the tails of his dressing gown, had him right side up in a hurry, exclaiming, “Crucibles and gasbags! my good sir, have you gone crazy?”

“No, indeed,” returned Dr. Sheepshanks, with a gleeful laugh.  “I have made a discovery, sir a great discovery.  I happened to look out of the window, a moment ago, and I saw a couple of little chaps racing up and down, and playing at that topsy-turvy game you saw me trying just now.  Their cheeks were so fat, and their frames so sturdy, that I feel convinced such exercises are the best promoters of health in the world; and as I am getting rather broken down myself, while I am finding out what is the best way for other people to keep healthy, I thought I would try the experiment.  It does make the blood rush to the head somewhat, I must confess; but it’s a glorious thing, you may depend!  I feel twenty years younger and better already, I assure you!”

All this time Dr. Sheepshanks was puffing and panting, with a very red face and astonished air; but the new theory had taken possession of him, and he would have died at the stake rather than allow that turning summersaults was not the exercise best adapted to old gentlemen of sixty.

Finding his friend so prepossessed in favor of exercise, Dr. Skihi proposed to him that they should go and take a walk, to which he readily agreed.  Then they went to Dr. Smelfungus, the great botanist, who was at present trying to graft japónicas on bramble bushes:  “It would improve the appearance of the roadside so much!” and Dr. Van Noostile, who was writing a splendid work, in twenty-five volumes, to prove that people’s feeling hot and cold was perfect fancy and nonsense; and also giving a number of scientific ways of finding out whether it would rain or be clear, and what time o’ day it was, without looking to see if the wind were east, or running to stare at a clock; which, no doubt, would be of the greatest use to the world, and leave all the weathercocks and watchmakers quite in the shade.  Last of all, they came to Dr. Mumbudget, who had on his study door the great doorplate you see in the picture, with his name engraved on it in letters six inches long.  As usual, he said not a word in reply to the invitation of his friends, but nodded his head at them instead, until he nearly nodded it off; and so, being all of one mind, our philosophers locked up their studies, put on their five-cornered caps, and taking their gold-headed canes and their note books, to be ready to put down any new fact that might turn up, started off for a country ramble.

At first they walked along quietly enough, admiring the prospect, and enjoying the fresh air; but after a few moments, Dr. Sheepshanks could no longer resist the desire to put his new theory of health into practice.

“Really,” he began, “it would be much better for us always to pursue our studies in the open air.  Science teaches us that the most healthy people are the wild Indians those children of nature, who live under the trees, dine off fresh fruits, and take plenty of exercise.  Let us be children of nature, my friends, and improve our health by running to that tree,” pointing to one at some distance.

Accordingly, the philosopher started off at an amble, followed by his companions, who, with dressing gowns flying in the wind, and books flying, out of their pockets every minute, presented rather ridiculous spectacles.  They were so deeply engaged that they did not see Dr. Mumbudget quietly walking along behind, picking up their scattered property.

So far so good; but unhappily, not being accustomed to the habits of children of nature, this sudden introduction to the true mode of life discomposed our learned doctors in no small degree.  Fairly aching from head to foot with fatigue, Dr. Sheepshanks was the first to pause, so out of breath that he could hardly speak, yet exclaiming, with a beaming face, “Ah! you may depend, gentlemen, that the only way to enjoy life is to take plenty of exercise!”

This was drawing rather too hard on the patience of his friends, after what they had just endured, and Dr. Skihi exclaimed, rather crossly, “At the same time, your exercise is a famous thing to make one thirsty!  I would give a great deal to obtain a drink of spring water; but that is impossible at present.”

“Impossible! why, there is nothing easier!” said Dr. Smelfungus.  “Science teaches us that some vegetables are nearly all water; turnips, for instance.  All you have to do is to get a turnip and express the juice, and there’s your drink of water.”

“How about going to a well?” said Mumbudget; but nobody appeared to hear him.

“And pray, are there any turnips hereabout?” asked the chemist, impatiently.

Now, the fact was that Dr. Smelfungus had never seen a turnip; he had only read in books that turnips were round, watery vegetables, yellow outside and full of juice; for he was so interested in finding out all about flowers and plants that came from Australia, and other out of the way places, that he never troubled his head with common, homemade turnips those were too vulgar; but as he wished to appear informed on all subjects, he pointed hap-hazard to a field beside the road saying, carelessly, “Certainly; there are some.”

Now, what do you think Dr. Smelfungus had really pointed out?  Why, a musk-melon patch! and as his companions knew no more than himself, Dr. Skihi scrambled through the hedge without more ado, cut with his penknife as many as he could carry, and returned to his friends.  You may believe how they enjoyed the feast, sitting on the soft moss, in the cool shade of the trees; and after they were through, Dr. Smelfungus gravely wrote down, “Turnip a large, round vegetable growing on vines, with a rough, yellow outside, ever so many seeds in the middle, and tastes of nutmegs!”

After these exploits, the philosophers continued on their way, and Drs. Smelfungus and Sheepshanks felt more proud of their learning than ever.  Meanwhile Dr. Mumbudget said nothing; so they gave him credit either for thinking a great deal, or being too big a donkey to admire such splendid experiments.

The sun had now mounted high, and our travellers began to feel its rays inconveniently warm.  Dr. Van Noostile, however, laughed them all to scorn.

“Too warm! fiddlestick’s end!” he cried.  “This feeling warm and cold is all humbug.  Dr. Skihi can tell you that I went to the top of the house with him every night for a week, last winter, to look at a comet, in nothing but a night gown and an umbrella, and I never was better in my life!  Other people might have felt cold, or caught cold; but I I enjoyed the science of the thing!  If you feel too warm, follow my plan; make up your minds you won’t feel so, and the thing’s done!” and Dr. Van Noostile marched proudly along in the hottest part of the road, with his nose in the air, though the sun blistered the end most abominably! while the others, not to be behindhand in wisdom, followed his example; all but Mumbudget, who kept in the shade of the trees growing beside the road, and was secretly voted a greater donkey than ever.

Fortunately for the rest, who might otherwise have been sunstruck, a friendly cloud bank, which had been for some time gathering in the east, now began to cover the sky completely; and Dr. Mumbudget, speaking for the second time, just said, “Rain coming; better hurry on,” and then relapsed into silence.

“Rain! no such thing!” cried Dr. Van Noostile.  “When it is about to rain, you will observe that the swallows fly low! and as I don’t see a sign of a swallow, you may depend that ” His speech was interrupted by a thunderclap, and then down poured the flood! in one of those sudden, heavy showers that so often take place in summer, wetting the whole party to the skin in less than two minutes.  It was of no use to run, and as they plodded along in the wet, our philosophers looked at Dr. Van Noostile with faces in which anger and dismay were equally mingled.

“Is this your knowledge of weather?” exclaimed Dr. Skihi, in a pet.

“Science teaches us that even a child of nature should go in when it rains!” snapped Dr. Sheepshanks.

“And though water is undoubtedly necessary for internal refreshment; external application, in the form of a hard shower, is only suitable to plants!” snarled Dr. Smelfungus.

In short, they all set upon the luckless weather prophet, except Dr. Mumbudget, who, when they had all scolded themselves out of breath, quietly pointed out a farm house they were now approaching, and led the way thither himself.

There was no need for words.  Gladly did the wretched philosophers hasten to its shelter, and avail themselves of the bright kitchen fire to dry their flowered dressing gowns, and wet stockings and shoes.  While they were drying, and steaming like the safety valve of a high-pressure steamboat, the good woman of the house, not without some doubts of their sanity, set about preparing a savory meal.  In a short time this was ready, and the others were just sitting down to a dish of nice broiled ham and some light wheaten biscuits, when Dr. Sheepshanks exclaimed, with an air of amazement, “Is it possible, my friends, that you are willing to violate the natural laws of health by eating dishes at which a child of nature would be horrified!  Not for me be so degenerate a meal! I shall lunch on fare such as a wild Indian best loves!” So saying, he tucked up his sleeves, called for some unground corn, and having pounded it in a mortar until it was in coarse bits, he mixed with it a little water, and baked this horrible mess before the fire, in the hot ashes.  Then he asked for a slice of bacon, as venison was not at hand, frizzled the out side slightly by holding it up on a cleft stick before the fire, burning his ten fingers several times in the process, and bearing it with heroic fortitude.  Finally, he served up these atrocious specimens of cookery on pieces of board instead of dishes, as the proper diet for children of nature and philosophers!

As he could not induce the other savants to prefer the luncheon of wild Indians to that of civilized Christians, Dr. Sheepshanks ate it all up himself, though, in fact, his rebellious palate steadily refused to relish the dainties prepared for it.  Science must be made to triumph, however, and the little doctor gallantly charged these “What is It’s” of cookery and finished the last morsel under furious protest of stomach.

Somewhat comforted by the meal, and seeing that the clouds had given place to a clear sky, the philosophers resumed their dressing gowns, woefully shrunken by the wetting and drying they had received, and having liberally paid their hostess, started on the homeward road; concluding that they had seen enough for one day.  They were in the very poorest condition for a long walk, for their theories, so far from making them any happier, had produced only ill effects.  Dr. Sheepshanks’ healthful exercise had given them all stitches in the sides, and aches in the back; Dr. Smelfungus’s knowledge of botany had betrayed them into such excesses of melon alias turnip eating, that various queer doublings up in the epigastric region began to make themselves apparent; the natural philosophy, which had led Dr. Van Noostile and his good friends to parade along the middle of the road in the sun, had given them furious headaches; and, to crown all, Dr. Skihi now made the most brilliant proposal of anybody.

Our good doctor was evidently brimming, one might say creaming, over with the milk of human kindness; beyond a possible doubt he was about to propound a discovery of benefit to the whole world.  His bald head beamed benevolence, overflowing beneficence to all mankind radiated from the very tails of his dressing gown as he cried: 

“My dear friends, you are all too tired to walk home now, ain’t you?  You would like to get there before you could say ’Jack Robinson’ now, wouldn’t you? and if I were to accomplish that happy end, you could never be grateful enough now, could you?”

“Certainly not!” exclaimed the advocate of exercise, who wished from his inmost soul, either that he had taken less turnip, or that the famous seven league boots were on his legs at that moment.

“Then all you have to do,” cried Dr. Skihi with sparkling eyes, “is to get in a convenient posture; allow me to set off this retort of mine behind you ” here he produced a “glass concern” from a side pocket, to the horror of his friends “and heigh, presto! you will find yourself flying home like a skyrocket”

“And coming down like the stick!” gasped Dr. Smelfungus, retiring in a hurry, for the tails of his dressing gown and the gas retort of Dr. Skihi were in inconvenient proximity.

Dr. Skihi vouchsafed not another word, but with an air of indescribable dignity adjusted the retort, took out a cork and but words fail me to describe the catastrophe!  Before Dr. Mumbudget could rush forward to prevent it, the gas had come in contact with the air, become inflamed instantly, and sent Dr. Skihi whirling above the heads of his friends!

Vesuvius in eruption, coal mines on fire, mad bulls in the full rush, and crackers exploding in a barrel, rushed wildly through the heads of our philosophers, and when, finally, the rocket-riding doctor was discharged on a hayrick, the only person who retained sufficient presence of mind to go and pick him up was Mumbudget.

Poor Dr. Skihi!  The victim to science remained insensible for some time; and when he finally recovered his consciousness, could not at first be persuaded that he was not in innumerable pieces.  When he was, at last, enabled to walk on, it was discovered that while they were experimenting they had lost their way, and might be close to home or in the middle of Kamtschatka for all they knew of the road.  It was again Mumbudget who helped them out of this difficulty, by speaking for the third time that day; and this third remark of the sage was as much to the point as the two first.  “Ask somebody!” propounded Mumbudget, and after hobbling miserably along for some time, this somebody turned up in the person of a very small, ragged, dirty urchin; and under the guidance of this contemptible little snipe did our prodigies of wisdom arrive at last at the abode of Science and Knowledge!

As they entered the hall, Dr. Smelfungus, with an admiring glance at the speechless Mumbudget, exclaimed, “After all, gentlemen, there must be a science far higher than ours, since we, with all our knowledge, find practical life a matter of such difficulty.  Only one man, it appears, is master of it, and there he stands!” and he made a low bow to Mumbudget, who returned it by another, without a word of reply.

Dr. Skihi, at this, glanced with profound contempt at Smelfungus, and gave a “hum!” that was echoed by the professor of health and him of natural science; then raising himself on the tips of his toes, and seesawing up and down at every word, he inquired, superciliously, “And pray, sir, may I ask, in the name of my scientific friends, what branch of science you profess, which is superior to every other?”

Mumbudget looked with a quiet smile at the excited little doctor, and replied, calmly: 

“Gentlemen, I am the professor of COMMON SENSE.”

At this reply, the learned friends, Smelfungus not excepted, presented a series of remarkably open countenances, as respected eyes and mouths, while Dr. Mumbudget went on: 

“Chemistry, Botany, Natural Philosophy, and Hygienics all put together, gentlemen, have failed to ensure us one day of rational enjoyment or ease; for all these sciences are pure absurdities, unless they are put in the hands of men who are governed by the wholesome dictates of common sense.  My wise philosophers, will you come to school to me?”

The doctors gazed a moment yet; first at the proposer of this new doctrine, then at each other; and then, all rushing forward at once, they seized his hands.

“You are right, my dear Mumbudget!” they exclaimed in a breath; “with all our science we are most greatly in want of common sense!  Open your school at once; we will be the first to join its classes, and celebrate the triumph of Reason over Philosophy!”