Tommy.—I do not say that, sir, neither. But he is, however, superior to them.
Mr Barlow.—Superior, in what? In the art of cultivating the ground to raise food, and making clothes or houses?
Tommy.—No, sir, not that; for gentlemen never plough the ground or build
houses.
Mr Barlow.—Is he then superior in knowledge? Were you, who have been brought up a gentleman, superior to all the rest of the world when you came here?
Tommy.—To be sure, sir; when I came here I did not know so much as I do now.
Mr Barlow.—If then you, when you knew nothing, and could do nothing, thought yourself superior to all the rest of the world, why should you wonder, that men who really excel others in those things which they see absolutely necessary, should have the same good opinion of themselves? Were you to be in Greenland, for instance, how would you prove your own superiority and importance?
Tommy.—I would tell them that I had always been well brought up at home.
Mr Barlow.—That they would not believe. They would say that they saw you were totally unable to do anything useful—to guide a boat; to swim the seas; to procure yourself the least sustenance—so that you would perish with hunger, if they did not charitably afford you now and then a bit of whale or seal; and, as to your being a gentleman, they would not understand the word, nor would they
comprehend why one man, who is naturally as good as his fellow-creature, should submit to the caprice of another, and obey him.