Poyser, impressed at once with the
political bearings of the fact and with its striking interest as an
anecdote in natural history.
"Come, Craig," said Adam, "that's a little too strong. You don't believe
that. It's all nonsense about the French being such poor sticks. Mr.
Irwine's seen 'em in their own country, and he says they've plenty o'
fine fellows among 'em. And as for knowledge, and contrivances, and
manufactures, there's a many things as we're a fine sight behind 'em in.
It's poor foolishness to run down your enemies. Why, Nelson and the
rest of 'em 'ud have no merit i' beating 'em, if they were such offal as
folks pretend."
Mr. Poyser looked doubtfully at Mr. Craig, puzzled by this opposition of
authorities. Mr. Irwine's testimony was not to be disputed; but, on the
other hand, Craig was a knowing fellow, and his view was less startling.
Martin had never "heard tell" of the French being good for much. Mr.
Craig had found no answer but such as was implied in taking a long
draught of ale and then looking down fixedly at the proportions of his
own leg, which he turned a little outward for that purpose, when Bartle
Massey returned from the fireplace, where he had been smoking his
first pipe in quiet, and broke the silence by saying, as he thrust his
forefinger into the canister, "Why, Adam, how happened you not to be at
church on Sunday? Answer me that, you rascal.
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