I have seen swarms of sea-birds miles
long, darkening the air with their wings. Our Great Father has many sea
children, sir. Next summer--God willing!--we might sail to the Faroe
Islands, and you would be among His whales, and His whale men."
"Then you have been to the Faroes?"
"More than once or twice. I used to take them on my road to Iceland. It
is a wayless way there, but I know it. And the people are a happy,
comfortable, pious lot; they are that! Most of them whale-hunters and
whale-eaters."
"Eaters?"
"To be sure, sir. When it is fresh, a roast of whale isn't half bad. I
once tried it myself."
"Once?"
"Well, then, I didn't want it twice. You know, I'm beef-bred. That makes
a difference, sir. I like to go to lonely islands, and as a general
thing I favor the kind of people that live on them."
"What is the difference between these lonely islanders and Yorkshire men
like you and me?"
"There is a good bit of difference, in more ways than one, sir. For
instance, they aren't fashionable.
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