An Irish Philosopher

Spinoza is reading intently.

Arthur has nothing to read.

What's that you're reading? asks Arthur.

Spinoza continues to read.

The Great Philosophers, says a voice from the picnic basket.

Arthur looks down and sees Ageless.

That's your book, says Arthur, surprised.

He's borrowed it, says Ageless. He's in it, that's why.

He's been reading for hours, says Arthur. It must be a  riveting read.

Spinoza looks up from The Great Philosophers.

It is, says Spinoza. But it demands concentration. Do be quiet.

Sorry, says Arthur. Who are you up to?

Berkeley, says Baruch Spinoza.

He any good? asks Arthur.

Spinoza sighs heavily, which sets off his cough.

Ir..ish! he chokes.

Irish? says Arthur, patting him hard on the back. Are you asking for whiskey, or Irish Moss lozenges?

What? says Spinoza. No, no. Berkeley is Irish. His philosophical method is to conduct a series of thought experiments. But that is not what interests me as much as his recommendation of tar water.

Tar water, says Arthur. Never heard of it. For what?

Everything, says Spinoza. According to him it cures smallpox, ulcers, dropsy, distempers, indigestion and coughs.

You should ask Stacey if she's got any, says Arthur.

Do you think she will have? asks Spinoza.

No, says Arthur. But you may as well try.

Spinoza gets up and walks down the carriage until oops! He trips over Gaius's foot.

Whaaa! Gaius wakes up.

Sorry, says Spinoza. Your foot was sticking out.

No it wasn't, says Gaius.

Something was, says Spinoza.

Where are you going anyway, at this time of night? asks Gaius.

What a ridiculous question, says Spinoza. But the answer is not what you think.

What do I think? asks Gaius, confused.

I'm going to ask Stacey for some tar water, says Spinoza.

Tar water! Now Gaius is properly awake

Then go no further, my friend, says Gaius. Sit down.