“I have not, your hanner; for I suffer quite as much hunger and thirst as ever I did in ould Ireland.”
“Did you sell books in Ireland?”
“I did nat, your hanner; I made buttons and clothes—that is I pieced them. I was several trades in ould Ireland, your hanner; but none of them answering, I came over here.”
“Where you commenced bookselling?” said I.
“I did nat; your hanner. I first sold laces, and then I sold loocifers, and then something else; I have followed several trades in Wales, your hanner; at last I got into the bookselling trade, in which I now am.”
“And it answers, I suppose, as badly as the others?”
“Just as badly, your hanner; divil a bit better.”
“I suppose you never beg?”
“Your hanner may say that; I was always too proud to beg. It is begging I laves to the wife I have.”
“Then you have a wife?”