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

_Tinker_.--Well, I shouldn't have thought you were 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 schoolmaster. Only conceive him in
blessed weather like this, in his cl