“Isn’t it strange, Glynn, that there are such ugly beasts in the world?” said Ailie. “I wonder why God made them?”
“So do I,” said Glynn, looking at the child’s thoughtful face in some surprise. “I suppose they must be of some sort of use.”
“Oh! yes, of course they are,” rejoined Ailie quickly. “Aunt Martha and Aunt Jane used to tell me that every creature was made by God for some good purpose; and when I came to the crocodile in my book, they said it was certainly of use too, though they did not know what. I remember it very well, because I was so surprised to hear that Aunt Martha and Aunt Jane did not know everything.”
“No doubt Aunt Martha and Aunt Jane were right,” said Glynn, with a smile. “I confess, however, that crocodiles seem to me to be of no other use than to kill and eat up everything that comes within the reach of their terrible jaws. But, indeed, now I think of it, the very same may be said of man, for he kills and eats up at least everything that he wants to put into his jaws.”
“So he does,” said Ailie; “isn’t it funny?”
“Isn’t what funny?” asked Glynn.
“That we should be no better than crocodiles—at least, I mean about eating.”
“You forget, Ailie, we cook our food.”
“Oh! so we do. I did not remember to think of that. That’s a great difference, indeed.”
Leaving Glynn and his little charge to philosophise on the resemblance between men and crocodiles, we shall now return to Tim Rokens and Phil Briant, whom we left in the trader’s cottage.