children, sir. Next summer--God willing!--we might sail to the Faroe
Islands, and you would be among His whales, and His whale men."

"Then you have been to the Faroes?"

"More than once or twice. I used to take them on my road to Iceland. It
is a wayless way there, but I know it. And the people are a happy,
comfortable, pious lot; they are that! Most of them whale-hunters and
whale-eaters."

"Eaters?"

"To be sure, sir. When it is fresh, a roast of whale isn't half bad. I
once tried it myself."

"Once?"

"Well, then, I didn't want it twice. You know, I'm beef-bred. That makes
a difference, sir. I like to go to lonely islands, and as a general
thing I favor the kind of people that live on them."

"What is the difference between these lonely islanders and Yorkshire men
like you and me?"

"There is a good bit of difference, in more ways than one, sir. For
instance, they aren't fashionable. The women mostly dress the same, and
there are no stylish shapes in the men's 'oils' and guernseys. Then,
they call no man 'master.' God is their employer, and from His hand they
take their daily bread. And they don't set themselves up against Him,
and grumble about their small wages and their long hours. And if the