of it in savage as in civilized life. I have seen
the exclusive aristocratic spirit, with its one-sided injustice, as
rampant in a wild isle of the Pacific as I ever saw it among ourselves."

"'Tis slight comfort," said my friend, with a melancholy smile, "to be
assured, when one's heart bleeds from the cruelty or injustice of our
fellows, that man is naturally cruel and unjust, and not less so as a
savage than when better taught. I knew you, Mr. Lindsay, when you were
younger and less fortunate; but you have now reached that middle term of
life when man naturally takes up the Tory and lays down the Whig; nor
has there been aught in your improving circumstances to retard the
change; and so you rest in the conclusion that, if the weak among us
suffer from the tyranny of the strong, 'tis because human nature is so
constituted, and the case therefore cannot be helped."

"Pardon me, Mr. Burns," I said, "I am not quite so finished a Tory as
that amounts to."

"I am not one of those fanciful declaimers," he continued, "who set out
on the assumption that man is free-born. I am too well assured of the
contrary. Man is not free-born. The earlier period of his existence,
whether as a puny child or the miserable denizen of an uninformed and
barbarous state, is one of vassalage and subserviency. He is not born
free, he is not born rational, he is not born virtuous; he is born to
_become_ all these. And woe to the sophist who, with arguments drawn
from the unconfirmed constitution of his childhood, would strive to
render his imperfect, because immature, state of pupilage a permanent
one! We are yet far below the level of which our nature is capable, and
possess in consequence but a small portion of the liberty which it is
the destiny of our species to enjoy. And 'tis time our masters should be
taught so. You will deem me a wild Jacobin, Mr. Lindsay; but persecution
has the effect of making a man extreme in these matters. Do help me to
curse the scoundrels!--my business to act, not to think!"

We were silent for several minutes.

"I have not yet thanked you, Mr. Burns," I at length said, "for the most
exquisite pleasure I ever enjoyed. You have been my companion for the
last eight years."

His countenance brightened.

"Ah, here I am boring you with my miseries and my ill-nature," he
replied; "but you must come along with me and see the bairns and Jean;
and some of the best songs I ever wrote. It will go hard if we hold not
ca