"If the French do not assert their superiority," Harry answered, laughing, "it is because they are ignorant that it has been questioned."
"That gives the measure of their ignorance; and they take care to maintain it: a Frenchman never learns a foreign language."
"Because—as I once heard a Frenchman say—foreigners pay him the compliment of learning his."
The Doctor burst out upon French vanity.
"At least you will admit that it is a quiet one," Harry replied. "The French are content with their own good opinion. The tribute that foreigners pay them is voluntary."
The Doctor arraigned those who foster the conceit of the French, first by trying to copy them and then by failing in it. He was very entertaining on this head. Neither Harry nor I thought it necessary to remind him that the pictures he drew of the French and their imitators did not precisely illustrate Anglo-Saxon superiority. He told the origin of several little French customs, which, founded simply in motives of economy or convenience, have been superstitiously adopted, without any such good reason, and even made a test of breeding, by weak-minded persons in England and this country. No one took up the defence of those unfortunates, but the Doctor was not satisfied with this acquiescence. He had an uneasy sense that his advantage in the encounter with Harry had not been decisive. He soon returned to the old field. Harry continued to parry his attacks playfully for a time, but at last said seriously,—
"Doctor, I know you are not half in earnest; but if I hear ill spoken of France, without replying, I feel as if I were not as true to my friends there as I know they are to me. One of the best and noblest men I ever knew is a Frenchman. This is not to argue with you. You know better than anybody what the world owes to France. If you were to take up my side, you would find a great deal more to say for it than I could. I wish you would!"
A pause followed, long enough for the bright, earnest look with which Harry made this appeal to fade from his face. As I did not think there was much hope of the Doctor's taking the part proposed to him, at least until he should find himself in company with persons who professed the opinions he was now maintaining, I tried to divert him to another topic, and succeeded; but it was only to bring about a yet warmer passage between him and his friend. I was not sorry, however; for this time the subject was one that interested me strongly. He had referred, the evening before, to some dangerous adventures Harry and he had had among the mountains of Mantaw County, which they crossed, going from Eden to Cyclops. I now asked him for the details. He turned to me at once, and entered upon the story with great spirit. I am familiar with the region in which the scene was laid, but, listening to him, it took a new aspect. I believe those hills will always be higher for me henceforth,—the glens deeper and darker; I shall hear new voices in the rush of the torrents and the roar of the pines. Harry listened admiringly too, until the Doctor, brought by the course of his narrative to the services of a certain slave-guide, named Jonas, took a jocular tone, seemingly as much amused by the black man's acuteness and presence of mind as he might have been by the tricks of an accomplished dog.
"A capital fellow!" interposed Harry, with emphasis.
"He showed himself intelligent and faithful, certainly. I sent his master a good account of him. He did his duty by us." This in the Doctor's mildest tone.