ke 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_.--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 tho