e it as it comes, and make the best of it. There's
something good in all weathers. If it don't happen to be good for my
work to-day, it's good for some other man's to-day, and will come round
to me to-morrow. We must all live."

"Pray shake hands," said Mr. Traveller.

"Take care, sir," was the Tinker's caution, as he reached up his hand in
surprise; "the black comes off."

"I am glad of it," said Mr. Traveller. "I have been for several hours
among other black that does not come off."

"You are speaking of Tom in there?"

"Yes."

"Well now," said the Tinker, blowing the dust off his job: which was
finished. "Ain't it enough to disgust a pig, if he could give his mind
to it?"

"If he could give his mind to it," returned the other, smiling, "the
probability is that he wouldn't be a pig."

"There you clench the nail," returned the Tinker. "Then what's to be
said for Tom?"

"Truly, very little."

"Truly nothing you mean, sir," said the Tinker, as he put away his tools.

"A better answer, and (I freely acknowledge) my meaning. I infer that he
was the cause of your disgust?"

"Why, look'ee here, sir," said the Tinker, rising to his feet, and wiping
his face on the corner of his black apron energetically; "I leave you to
judge!--I ask you!--Last night I has a job that needs to be done in the
night, and I works all night. Well, there's nothing in that. But this
morning I comes along this road here, looking for a sunny and soft spot
to sleep in, and I sees this desolation and ruination. I've lived myself
in desolation and ruination; I knows many a fellow-creetur that's forced
to live life long in desolation and ruination; and I sits me down and
takes pity on it, as I casts my eyes about. Then comes up the
long-winded one as I told you of, from that gate, and spins himself out
like a silkworm concerning the Donkey (if my Donkey at home will excuse
me) as has made it all--made it of his own choice! And tells me, if you
please, of his likewise choosing to go ragged and naked, and
grimy--maskerading, mountebanking, in what is the real hard lot of
thousands and thousands! Why, then I say it's a unbearable and
nonsensical piece of inconsistency, and I'm disgusted. I'm ashamed and
disgusted!"

"I wish you would come and look at him," said Mr. Traveller, clapping the
Tinker on the shoulder.

"Not I, sir," he rejoined. "I ain't a going to flatter him up by looking
at him!"

"But he is asleep."

"Are