what of it, if some old hunks of a sea-captain orders me to get a broom and sweep down the decks? what does that indignity amount to, weighed, i mean, in the scales of the new testament? do you think the archangel gabriel thinks anything the less of me, because i promptly and respectfully obey that old hunks in that particular instance? who ain’t a slave? tell me that. well, then, however the old sea-captains may order me about—however they may thump and punch me about, i have the satisfaction of knowing that it is all right; that everybody else is one way or other served in much the same way—either in a physical or metaphysical point of view, that is; and so the universal thump is passed round, and all hands should rub each other’s shoulder-blades, and be content.