“Very well,” said he, “and now let’s get our ground clear. Do you approve of the other sports, running matches, jumping matches, and all the rest?”
“Yes, Sir, of course I do,” said I.
“And you see no harm in one man beating another in a race for a prize?”
“No, Sir, no harm at all.”
“Well, but I suppose one must have activity and endurance to win in any of them?”
“Yes,” said I, “and good pluck, too, Sir. It takes as much heart, I’m sure, any day, to win a hard race as a bout at backsword.”
“Very good,” said he. “Then putting every thing else aside, tell me which you think the best man, he who doesn’t mind having his head broken, or he who does?”
“Well, Sir,” said I, beginning to fence a bit, for I thought I saw what he was driving at, “that depends on circumstances.”
“No, no,” said he, “I want a short answer. We’ve nothing to do with circumstances. Suppose there were no circumstances in the world, and only two men with heads to be broken?”
“Well, then, Sir,” said I, “I suppose the one who doesn’t mind having his head broken, must be the best man.”