"Thy pardon, boy," said the venerable tinker, filling a clay pipe
and stretching himself on a lounge. "Thou art not long out o' thy
clouts. It is, 'Thou shalt learn to think an' obey.' Consider how
man and beast are bound by it. Very well--think thy way up. Hast
thou any fear?"

The old man was feeling his gray hair, thoughtfully.

"Only the fear o' God," said the boy, after a moment of hesitation.

"Well, on me word, I am full sorry," said the tinker. "Though mind
ye, boy, fear is an excellent good thing, an' has done a work in
the world. But, hear me, a man had two horses the same age, size,
shape, an' colour, an' one went for fear o' the whip, an' the other
went as well without a whip in the wagon. Now, tell me, which was
the better horse?"

"The one that needed no whip."

"Very well!" said the old man, with emphasis. "A man had two sons,
an' one obeyed him for fear o' the whip, an' the other, because he
loved his father, an' could not bear to grieve him. Tell me again,
boy, which was the better son?"

"The one that loved him," said the boy.

"Very well! very well!" said the old man, loudly. "A man had two
neighbours, an' one stole not his sheep for fear o' the law, an'
the other, sor, he stole them not, because he loved his neighbour.
Now which was the better man?"