ther could be brought to beg your pardon, or
even to say that he was sorry--"

"He, sir! If such a thing was put before him, his answer would be just
to do it again, if I were fool enough to go near him. You are too mild
of nature, sir, to understand what father is."

"It is indeed horrible, too horrible to think of"--the voice of this
kind gentleman betrayed that he was shuddering. "If a Frenchman did such
a thing, he would be torn to pieces. But no French father would ever
dream of such atrocity. He would rather flog himself within an inch of
his own life."

"Are they so much better, then, and kinder, than us Englishmen?" In
spite of all his pain and grief, Dan could not help smiling at the
thought of his father ropesending himself. "So superior to us, sir, in
every way?"

"In almost every way, I am sorry to confess. I fear, indeed, in
every way, except bodily strength, and obstinate, ignorant endurance,
miscalled 'courage,' and those rough qualities--whatever they may
be--which seem needful for the making of a seaman. But in good manners,
justice, the sense of what is due from one man to another, in dignity,
equality, temperance, benevolence, largeness of feeling, and quickness
of mind, and above all in love of freedom, they are very, very sadly far
beyond us. And indeed I have been led to think from some of your finer
perceptions, Dan, that you must have a share of French blood in your
veins."

"Me, sir!" cried Dan, jumping back, in a style which showed the distance
between faith and argument; "no, sir, thank God there was never none
of that; but all English, with some of the Romans, who was pretty near
equal to us, from what I hear. I suppose, Squire Carne, you thought
that low of me because I made a fuss about being larruped, the same as
a Frenchman I pulled out of the water did about my doing of it, as if I
could have helped it. No Englishman would have said much about that;
but they seem to make more fuss than we do. And I dare say it was
French-like of me, to go on about my hiding."

"Daniel," answered Caryl Carne, in alarm at this British sentiment; "as
a man of self-respect, you have only one course left, if your father
refuses to apologise. You must cast off his tyranny; you must prove
yourself a man; you must begin life upon your own account. No more
of this drudgery, and slavery for others, who allow you no rights in
return. But a nobler employment among free people, with a chance of
asserting your