genial and gladdening is the power of good ale, the true and proper
drink of Englishmen. He is not deserving of the name of Englishman who
speaketh against ale, that is good ale, like that which has just made
merry the hearts of this poor family; and yet there are beings, calling
themselves Englishmen, who say that it is a sin to drink a cup of ale,
and who on coming to this passage will be tempted to fling down the book
and exclaim, "The man is evidently a bad man, for behold, by his own
confession, he is not only fond of ale himself, but is in the habit of
tempting other people with it." Alas! alas! what a number of silly
individuals there are in this world; I wonder what they would have had me
do in this instance--given the afflicted family a cup of cold water? go
to! They could have found water in the road, for there was a pellucid
spring only a few yards distant from the house, as they were well
aware--but they wanted not water. What should I have given them? meat
and bread? go to! They were not hungry; there was stifled sobbing in
their bosoms, and the first mouthful of strong meat would have choked
them. What should I have given them? Money! what right had I to insult
them by offering them money? Advice! words, words, words; friends, there
is a time for everything; there is a time for a cup of cold water; there
is a time for strong meat and bread; there is a time for advice, and
there is a time for ale; and I have generally found that the time for
advice is after a cup of ale. I do not say many cups; the tongue then
speaketh more smoothly, and the ear listeneth more benignantly; but why
do I attempt to reason with you? do I not know you for conceited
creatures, with one idea--and that a foolish one;--a crotchet, for the
sake of which ye would sacrifice anything, religion if required--country?
There, fling down my book, I do not wish ye to walk any farther in my
company, unless you cast your nonsense away, which ye will never do, for
it is the breath of your nostrils; fling down my book, it was not written
to support a crotchet, for know one thing, my good people, I have
invariably been an enemy to humbug.

"Well," said the tinker, after we had discoursed some time, "I little
thought, when I first saw you, that you were of my own trade."

_Myself_. Nor am I, at least not exactly. There is not much difference,
'tis true, between a tinker and a smith.

_Tinker_. You are a whitesmith then?

_Myself_.