But, after all, who am I
that I should claim a finer shade of morality than those, with their
sturdy widespread hands and perpetual blessing? My inherent powers of
resistance to such temptations as the winds and tides of Providence put
in their way have never been subject to proof. Does virtue go by default
where there is no opportunity to be otherwise than virtuous? The very
first pipe of port, or aum of Rhenish, or bale of silk, which comes
rolling along may wrestle with my morality and so wrench and twist it as
to incapacitate it for ordinary usage for months, or may even permanently
disable it. And must not I, venturing to regard myself as a truthful
historian, frankly admit a sense allied to disappointment when the white
blazing beaches are destitute of the most trivial of temptations?
No, the grating of the battered barque, upon which many a wet and weary
steersman had stood, now fulfils placid duty as a front gate. No more to
be trampled and stamped upon with shifty, sloppy feet--no more to be
scrubbed and scored with sand and holystone; painted white, it creaks
gratefully every time it swings--the symbol of security, the first
outward and visible sign of home, the guardian of the sacred rights of
private property, the embodiment of the exclusive.
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