"'And what was it you met?'
"'I met a funeral,' said Matt; 'but I got more kicks than halfpence!'
"'You didn't get half enough,' said the goody. 'Why, of course, you ought to have said, "May your poor soul have mercy." That's what you ought to have said.'
"Ay! ay! mother! so I will next time, only be still,' said Matt, and off he went again.
"So when he had gone a bit of the way he fell on two ugly gipsies who were skinning a dog. So when he came up to them he greeted them and said, 'May your poor soul have mercy,' and when he had said so he went home and told his mother he had said what she bade him; but all he got was such a drubbing he could scarce drag one leg after the other.
"'But what was it you said?' asked the goody.
"'May your poor soul have mercy; that was what I said.'
"'And whom did you meet?'
"'A pair of gipsies skinning a dog,' he said.
"'Well! well!' said the goody. 'There's no hope of your changing. You'll always be a shame and sorrow to us wherever you go. I never heard such shocking words. But now, you must set out and take no notice of any one you meet, for you must be off to woo a wife, and see if you can get some one who knows more of the ways of the world and has a better head on her shoulders than yours. And now you must behave like other folk, and if all goes well you may bless your stars, and bawl out, Hurrah!'