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 grass, 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 glass, 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 nobody 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 scraps, 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.