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, '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_. Not I, I'd scorn to be anything so mean; no, friend, black's
the colour; I am a brother of the horse-shoe. Success to the hammer and
tongs.

_Tinker_. Well, I shouldn't have thought you had been a blacksmith by
your hands.

_Myself_. I have seen them, however, as black as yours. The truth is, I
have not worked for many a day.

_Tinker_. Where did you serve first?

_Myself_. In Ireland.

_Tinker_. That's a good way off, isn't it?

_Myself_. Not very far; over those mountains to the left, and the run of
salt water that lies behind them, there's Ireland.

_Tinker_. It's a fine thing to be a scholar.

_Myself_. Not half so fine as to be a tinker.

_Tinker_. How you talk!

_Myself_. Nothing but the truth; what can be better than to be one's own
master? Now a tinker is his own master, a scholar is not. Let us
suppose the best of scholars, a schoolmaster for example, for I suppose
you will admit that no one can be higher in scholarship than a
schoolmaster; do you call his a pleasant life? I don't; we should call
him a school-slave, rather than a scho