'Well, then, my father was nothing more than a common labourer, and just poor enough to be honest, but not poor enough to be a rogue. Poverty is no great disgrace, provided one comes honestly by it; for one may get poor as well as rich by knavery. So, being poor, father used to make me earn odd pennies, when I was a boy; and at last I got so smart, that he resolved on sending me to sell chickens at the next town. But as I could only speak Irish at that time, by reason we lived up the mountains, he sat down and taught me a little English, in case any gentlefolks should ask me about my chickens. Now, Jerry, says he, in Irish, if any gentleman speaks to you, of course it will be to know the price of your chickens; so you are to say, three shillings, Sir. Then to be sure he will be for lowering the price, so you are to say stoutly, No less, Sir; and if he shakes his head, or looks angry, 'tis a sign he won't buy unless you bate a little, so you are to say, I believe I must take two, Sir.
'Well, I got my lesson pat, and off I set, with my hair cut and my face washed, and thinking it the greatest day of my life; and I had not walked a hundred yards from the house, when I met a gentleman.
'Pray how far is it to the next village?' says he.
'Three shillings, Sir,' says I.
'You are a saucy fellow,' says he.
'No less, Sir,' says I.
'I will give you a box in the face,' says he.
'I believe I must take two, Sir,' says I.
'But, instead of two, egad, I got six, and as many kicks as would match 'em; and home I ran howling.—Well, that was very well, so when I told father that I was beaten for nothing:
'I warrant you were not,' says he; 'and if I had done so by my poor father, he would have broken every bone in my skin,' says he. 'But he was a better father than I am,' says he.