Do you know, I am beginning to believe that we only exist nowadays by the tolerance of these millionaire tradesmen. " "That boy'll never rest till he finds his vay to Bridewell," observed Sharples. That is how I learned that there were such things as novels. To preach a fine sermon every Sunday so that he would lose neither the art nor the impulse; and this child, in secret rebellion, taking it down in long hand during odd hours in the week! Preaching grandiloquently before a few score natives who understood little beyond the gestures, for the single purpose of warding off disintegration! It reminded the doctor of a stubborn retreat; from barricade to barricade, grimly fighting to keep the enemy at bay, that insidious enemy of the white man in the South Seas—inertia. Perhaps at the first blush—it strikes you as odd. “You cannot seriously believe,” he said, “that at the present moment I care a snap of the fingers whether I have any dinner or not.
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