Joey, who had heard the tinker say that the men had robbed him of thirteenpence-halfpenny, imagined that he was dest.i.tute, and as he wished to proceed on his way, he took out two shillings, and held them out to the man, saying, "This will keep you till you can earn some more.

Good-bye now; I must go on."

The tinker looked at Joey. "You're a kind-hearted lad, at all events, and a clever, bold one, if I mistake not," said he; "put up your money, nevertheless, for I do not want any. I have plenty, if they had only known where to look for it."

Joey was examining his new companion during the time that he was speaking to him. There was a free and independent bearing about the man, and a refinement of manner and speech very different from what might be expected from one in so humble a situation. The tinker perceived this scrutiny, and, after meeting our hero's glance, said, "Well, what are you thinking of now?"

"I was thinking that you have not always been a tinker."

"And I fancy that you have not always been a sailor, my young master; but, however, oblige me by going into the village and getting some breakfast for us. I will pay you the money when you return, and then we can talk a little."

Joey went into the village, and finding a small chandler's shop, bought some bread and cheese, and a large mug which held a quart of beer, both of which he also purchased, and then went back to the tinker. As soon as they had made their breakfast, Joey rose up and said--"I must go on now; I hope you'll find yourself better to-morrow."

"Are you in a very great hurry, my lad?" inquired the tinker. "I want to find some employment," replied Joey; "and, therefore, I must look for it."

"Tell me what employment you want. What can you do?"

"I don't exactly know; I have been keeping accounts for a person."

"Then you are a scholar, and not a seafaring person?"

"I am not a sailor, if you mean that; but I have been on the river."

"Well, if you wish to get employment, as I know this country well and a great many people, I think I may help you. At all events, a few days can make no difference; for you see, my boy, to-morrow I shall be able to work, and then, I'll answer for it, I'll find meat and drink for both of us, so, what do you say? Suppose you stay with me, and we'll travel together for a few days, and when I have found work that will suit you, then we can part?"

"I will if you wish it," replied Joey.

"Then that's agreed," said the tinker; "I should like to do you a good turn before we part, and I hope I shall be able; at all events, if you stay with me a little while, I will teach you a trade which will serve you when all others fail."

"What, to mend kettles and to grind knives?"

"Exactly; and, depend upon it, if you would be sure of gaining your livelihood, you will choose a profession which will not depend upon the caprice of others, or upon patronage. Kettles, my boy, will wear out, knives will get blunt, and, therefore, for a good trade, give me 'kettles to mend, knives to grind.' I've tried many trades, and there is none that suits me so well. And now that we've had our breakfast, we may just as well look out for lodgings for the night, for I suppose you would not like the heavens for your canopy, which I very often prefer.

Now, put yourself to the wheel, and I'll try my old quarters."

The knife-grinder walked into the village, followed by Joey, who rolled the wheel, until they stopped at a cottage, where he was immediately recognised and welcomed. Joey was ordered to put the wheel under a shed, and then followed the tinker into the cottage. The latter told his story, which created a good deal of surprise and indignation, and then complained of his head and retired to lie down, while Joey amused himself with the children. They ate and slept there that night, the people refusing to take anything for their reception. The next day the tinker was quite recovered, and having mended a kettle and ground three or four knives for his hostess, he set off again, followed by Joey, who rolled the wheel.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

ON THE SCIENCE OF TINKERING AND THE ART OF WRITING DESPATCHES.

They had proceeded about two miles when the tinker said--"Come, my lad, let us sit down now, and rest ourselves a bit, for it is past noon, and you must be tired with shoving that wheel along. I would have taken it from you before this, but the fact is, I'm rather stiff yet about the head and shoulders; I feel it more than I thought I should. Here's a nice spot; I like to sit down under a tree, not too well covered with leaves, like this ash; I like to see the sunshine playing here and there upon the green gra.s.s, shifting its spots as the leaves are rustled by the wind. Now, let us lie down here, and not care a fig for the world.

I am a philosopher; do you know that?"

"I don't exactly know what it means; a very clever, good man--is it not?"

"Well, not exactly; a man may be a philosopher without being very good, or without being very clever. A philosopher is a man who never frets about anything, cares about nothing, is contented with a little, and doesn't envy any one who appears better off than himself, at least that is my school of philosophy. You stare, boy, to hear a tinker talk in this way--I perceive that; but you must know that I am a tinker by choice; and I have tried many other professions before, all of which have disgusted me."

"What other professions have you been?"

"I have been--let me see--I almost forget; but I'll begin at the beginning. My father was a gentleman, and until I was fourteen years old I was a gentleman, or the son of one; then he died, and that profession was over, for he left nothing; my mother married again, and left me; she left me at school, and the master kept me there for a year, in hopes of being paid; but, hearing nothing of my mother, and not knowing what to do with me, he at last (for he was a kind man) installed me as under usher of the school; for, you see, my education had been good, and I was well qualified for the situation, as far as capability went: it was rather a bathos, though, to sink from a gentleman's son to an under usher; but I was not a philosopher at that time. I handed the toast to the master and mistress, the head ushers and parlour boarders, but was not allowed any myself; I taught Latin and Greek, and English Grammar, to the little boys, who made faces at me, and put crooked pins on the bottom of my chair; I walked at the head of the string when they went out for an airing, and walked upstairs the last when it was time to go to bed. I had all the drudgery, and none of the comforts I was up first, and held answerable for all deficiencies; I had to examine all their nasty little trowsers, and hold weekly conversation with the botcher, as to the possibility of repairs; to run out if a hen cackled, that the boys should not get the egg; to wipe the noses of my mistress's children, and carry them if they roared; to pay for all broken gla.s.s, if I could not discover the culprit to account for all bad smells, for all noise, and for all ink spilled; to make all the pens, and to keep one hundred boys silent and attentive at church; for all which, with deductions, I received 40 pounds a year, and found my own washing. I stayed two years, during which time I contrived to save about 6 pounds; and with that, one fine morning, I set off on my travels, fully satisfied that, come what would, I could not change for the worse."

"Then you were about in the position that I'm in now," said Joey, laughing.

"Yes, thereabouts; only a little older, I should imagine. I set off with good hopes, but soon found that n.o.body wanted educated people--they were a complete drug. At last I obtained a situation as waiter, at a posting-house on the road, where I ran along all day long to the tinkling of bells, with hot brandy-and-water ever under my nose; I answered all the bells, but the head-waiter took all the money.

However, I made acquaintances there; and at last obtained a situation as clerk to a corn-chandler, where I kept the books; but he failed, and then I was handed over to the miller, and covered with flour for the whole time I was in his service. I stayed there till I had an offer from a coal-merchant (that was going from white to black); but, however, it was a better place. Then, by mere chance, I obtained the situation of clerk on board of a fourteen-gun brig, and cruised in the Channel for six months; but, as I found that there was no chance of being a purser, and as I hated the confinement and discipline of a man-of-war, I cut and run as soon as I obtained my pay. Then I was shopman at a draper's, which was abominable, for if the customers would not buy the goods, I got all the blame; besides, I had to clean my master's boots and my mistress's shoes, and dine in the kitchen on sc.r.a.ps, with a slipshod, squinting girl, who made love to me. Then I was a warehouseman; but they soon tacked on to it the office of light porter, and I had to carry weights enough to break my back. At last I obtained a situation as foreman in a tinman and cutler's shop, and by being constantly sent into the workshop I learnt something of the trade; I had made up my mind not to remain much longer, and I paid attention, receiving now and then a lesson from the workmen, till I found that I could do very well; for, you see, it's a very simple sort of business, after all."

"But still a travelling tinker is not so respectable as being in any of the situations you were in before," replied Joey.

"There I must beg your pardon, my good lad; I had often serious thoughts upon the subject, and I argued as follows:--What is the best profession in this world of ours?--That of a gentleman; for a gentleman does not work, he has liberty to go where he pleases, he is not controlled, and is his own master. Many a man considers himself a gentleman who has not the indispensables that must complete the profession. A clerk in the Treasury, or public offices, considers himself a gentleman; and so he is by birth, but not by profession; for he is not his own master, but is as much tied down to his desk as the clerk in a banker's counting-house, or in a shop. A gentleman by profession must be his own master, and independent; and how few there are in this world who can say so!

Soldiers and sailors are obliged to obey orders, and therefore I do not put them down as perfect gentlemen, according to my ideas of what a gentleman should be. I doubt whether the prime minister can be considered a gentleman until after he is turned out of office. Do you understand me, boy?"

"O yes, I understand what you mean by a gentleman; I recollect reading a story of a negro who came to this country, and who said that the pig was the only gentleman in the country, for he was the only living being who did not work."

"The negro was not far wrong," resumed the tinker. "Well, after thinking a long while, I came to the decision that, as I could not be a perfect gentleman, I would be the nearest thing to it that was possible; and I considered that the most enviable situation was that of a travelling tinker. I learned enough of the trade, saved money to purchase a knife-grinder's wheel, and here I have been in this capacity for nearly ten years."

"And do you hold to the opinion that you formed?"

"I do; for, look you, work I must; therefore, the only question was, to take up the work that was lightest, and paid best. I know no trade where you can gain so much with so little capital and so little labour.

Then, I am not controlled by any living being; I have my liberty and independence: I go where I please, stop where I please, work when I please, and idle when I please; and never know what it is to want a night's lodging. Show me any other profession which can say the same!

I might be better clothed--I might be considered more respectable; but I am a philosopher, and despise all that; I earn as much as I want, and do very little work for it. I can grind knives and scissors and mend kettles enough in one day to provide for a whole week; for instance, I can grind a knife in two minutes, for which I receive twopence. Now, allowing that I work twelve hours in the day, at the rate of one penny per minute, I should earn 3 pounds per day, which, deducting Sundays, is 939 pounds a year. Put that against 40 pounds a year, as a drudge to a school, or confined to a desk, in a shop, or any other profession, and you see how lucrative mine is in proportion. Then I am under no control; not ordered here or there, like a general or admiral; not attacked in the House of Commons or Lords, like a prime minister; on the contrary, half a day's work out of the seven is all I require; and I therefore a.s.sert, that my profession is nearer to that of a gentleman than any other that I know of."

"It may be as you style it, but you don't look much like one," replied Joey, laughing.

"That's prejudice; my clothes keep me as warm as if they were of the best materials, and quite new. I enjoy my victuals quite as much as a well-dressed gentleman does--perhaps more; I can indulge in my own thoughts; I have leisure to read all my favourite authors, and can afford to purchase new books. Besides, as I must work a little, it is pleasant to feel that I am always in request, and respected by those who employ me."

"Respected! on what account?"

"Because I am always wanted, and therefore always welcome. It is the little things of this life which annoy, not the great and a kettle that won't hold water, or a knife that won't cut, are always objects of execration; and as people heap their anathemas upon the kettle and the knife, so do they long for my return; and when I come, they are glad to see me, glad to pay me, and glad to find that their knives are sharp, and their kettles, thrown on one side, are useful again, at a trifling charge. I add to people's comforts; I become necessary to every poor person in the cottages; and therefore, they like me and respect me.

And, indeed, if it is only considered how many oaths and execrations are used when a person is hacking and sawing away with a knife which will not cut, and how by my wheel I do away with the cause of crime, I think that a travelling tinker may be considered, as to his moral influence upon society, more important than any parson in his pulpit. You observe that I have not rendered the profession degrading by marriage, as many do."

"How do you mean?"

"I hold that, whatever may be the means of a gentleman, he must be considered to lose the most precious advantages appertaining to his profession when he marries; for he loses his liberty, and can no longer be said to be under no control. It is very well for other professions to marry, as the world must be peopled; but a gentleman never should.

It is true, he may contrive to leave his clog at home, but then he pays dear for a useless and galling appendage but, in my situation as a travelling tinker, I could not have done so; I must have dragged my clog after me through the mud and mire, and have had a very different reception than what I have at present."

"Why so?"

"Why, a man may stroll about the country by himself--find lodging and entertainment for himself; but not so, if he had a wife in rags, and two or three dirty children at his heels. A single man, in every stage of society, if he pays his own way, more easily finds admission than a married one--that is, because the women regulate it and, although they will receive him as a tinker, they invariably object to his wife, who is considered and stigmatised as the tinker's trull. No, that would not do--a wife would detract from my respectability, and add very much to my cares."

"But have you no home, then, anywhere?"

"Why, yes, I have, like all single men on the _pave_, as the French say--just a sort of 'chambers' to keep my property in, which will acc.u.mulate in spite of me."

"Where are they?"

"In Dudstone, to which place I am now going. I have a room for six pounds a year; and the woman in the house takes charge of everything during my absence. And now, my boy, what is your name?"