"I know it," nodded the Tinker; "a very poor house."
"But the ham and eggs are beyond praise," said I; "still, my meal here under the trees with you will long remain a pleasant memory."
"Good-by, then," said the Tinker. "Good-by, young man, and I wish you happiness."
"What is happiness?" said I. The Tinker removed his hat, and, having scratched his head, put it on again.
"Happiness," said he, "happiness is the state of being content with one's self, the world, and everything in general."
"Then," said I, "I fear I can never be happy."
"And why not?"
"Because, supposing I ever became contented with the world, and everything in general, which is highly improbable, I shall never, never be contented with myself."