“Very hot, my friend,” said I; “have you travelled far to-day?”
“I have not, your hanner; I have been just walking about the dirty town trying to sell my books.”
“Have you been successful?”
“I have not, your hanner; only three pence have I taken this blessed day.”
“What do your books treat of?”
“Why, that is more than I can tell your hanner; my trade is to sell the books not to read them. Would your hanner like to look at them?”
“Oh dear no,” said I; “I have long been tired of books; I have had enough of them.”
“I daresay, your hanner; from the state of your hanner’s eyes I should say as much; they look so weak—picking up learning has ruined your hanner’s sight.”
“May I ask,” said I, “from what country you are?”
“Sure your hanner may; and it is a civil answer you will get from Michael Sullivan. It is from ould Ireland I am, from Castlebar in the county Mayo.”