“How comes it, Jack, that you have developed such a high regard for the English, and please, when did you take religion?”
“I have not ‘taken’ religion as the cynical call it, but Christ seems to me the perfect man, free from every vice and worldliness and meanness—and looked at in the light of His ideal what a paltry organization your society is.”
“And the Englishman?”
“We Canadians, as boys in the process of ancestor worship, look upon the Englishman as a superior being. As youths we meet the remittance-man and consider ourselves infinitely his superior. As grown men we recognize the salt of the earth to be the English. And”—he paused—“it is the judgment of grown manhood that counts.”
“How is Timkins?” asked Uncle with an aggression that displayed a marked desire to change the subject, “is he a millionaire yet?”
“He is getting on that way.”
“And, who is Mr. Timkins?” I asked, interested in anyone with whom this extraordinary Bang was acquainted.
“Timkins is of Jack’s school of philosophy—Jack, tell your Little Partner about Timkins.”
“Ha! Timkins is a chap, who has been through the mill out West. He reads the news of the stock-market, knows the especial affiliations of each newspaper, broker, and many of the reporters. He works on the theory that all newspaper talk in the stock-market is inspired, and governs himself accordingly—and makes money.” Mr. Bang looked at Mumsie and then at me somewhat defiantly.
“You means he gambles in the market!” suggested Mumsie.