ting what one means by being thoroughly English, so let us set
down here, something approaching one's ideas of what an English lad
should be.

Courageous of course, full of that sturdy determination not to be
beaten, and when beaten, so far from being disheartened that he is ready
to try again, whether in a fight, a battle with a difficulty, or in any
failure.

Honest in his striving for what he knows to be right, and ready to
maintain it against all odds, especially of such enemies as banter or
ridicule, self-indulgence or selfishness.

That is enough: for so many wonderful little veins will start from those
two trunks, that, given a boy who is courageous and honest, or who makes
himself so, it would be almost an impossibility for him to turn out a
bad, mean, and cowardly man.

And pray don't imagine, you who read this, that by a cowardly man or boy
I mean one who is afraid to take off his jacket and roll up his sleeves
and fight with his fists. I mean quite a different kind of coward--the
one who is afraid of himself and lets self rule him, giving up to every
indulgence because it goes a little against the grain, and Arthur Temple
is walking uncomfortably in his oilskins because they don't look nice.
The storm is raging, and he is still smarting under the belief that his
father thinks him contemptible and cowardly, physically cowardly. And
all the time, though the tears are rising in his eyes, and the wind is
deafening him, and the spray beating in his face so that his tears are
not seen, he is proving that, under his varnish, he is made of the right
stuff. For even as he battled with self in the boat when
conger-fishing, he is fighting the good fight again, has set his teeth,
and has made a sort of vow that no one shall say he has not as much
pluck as his brother Dick.

There is little work done at a fishing village when a storm comes down.
Going to sea is impossible, and men don't care to be mending or making
nets when at any moment they may have to be helping to haul up a boat
into a safer place, or to drag in a spar, or plank, or timber, that has
been washed ashore.

Then, too, there is the look-out kept for ships or boats in distress--
perhaps to lend a helping hand; if not, to look on with sympathetic eyes
and a thankful prayer at heart that they are in safety, as they think of
home, and wife, and child.

Mr Temple was not a violent angry man. His punishments to his boys
were conveyed in looks, and