have wrecked a ship. For
there, on the narrow strip of shingle between the wash of the waves and
the unstable cliff, we were primitive men, ready without ruth to wreck
for ourselves the contrivances of civilization.

7.

Tony has received one or two presents this autumn, and now the gales
have put an end to all kinds of fishing, he is beginning to write his
letters of thanks. Or rather, he bothers Mam Widger to write them for
him, and when she has said sufficiently often, "G'out yu mump-head! Du
it yourself!" he sets to work. After long hesitation, pen in hand, and
a laborious commencement, he dashes off a letter, protests that it
ought to be burnt, and sends it to post. He acts, indeed, a comic
version of the groans and travail about which literary men talk so
much.

[Sidenote: _PRESENTS AND TIPS_]

Whether he prefers a present or a tip is doubtful, and depends largely
on the amount of money in the house. Presents are more valued; tips
more useful. He feels that 'there didn't ought to be no need of tips';
knows obscurely that they are one of the effects, and the causes, of
class difference; that they are either a tacit admission that his
labour is underpaid, or else such an expression of good-will as a man
would not presume to give to 'the likes o' himself,' or else an
indirect bribe for some or other undue attention. Usually, however, not
wishing to go into the matter so thoroughly--having come in contact
with outsiders chiefly when they have been on holiday and least
economical--he considers a tip merely as the outflowing of a
gen'leman's abundance. "They can afford it, can't 'em? They lives in
big houses, an' it helps keeps thees yer little lot fed an' booted."

If, however, he has reason to believe that 'a nice quiet gen'leman' is
really hard-up, then he is very sorry, and will reduce the rate of hire
by so much as half. In such cases, it is well that the gen'leman should
add a small tip, for his niceness' sake. Then is Tony more than paid.

The gentleman, as such, seems to be losing prestige. Gentility is being
made to share its glory with education, 'Ignorant' is becoming a worse
insult than 'no class.' Grandfer, in argument will think to prove his
case by saying: "Why, a gen'leman told us so t'other day on the Front.
A gen'leman told me, I tell thee!" Grandfer's sons would like the
gen'leman's reasons. In fact the stuff and nonsense that the chatting
gen'leman, feeling himself safe from contradiction, w