The peculiar fellow stopped, opened a red-coloured handkerchief, took out a hunk of bread and set it down by his side with slow deliberation. It was quite two minutes ere he started off again.
"Now, friends, beware, take my advice;
When eating sugar, think of spice;
Before you marry, ponder twice:
Remember Ned the carter."
From the words, it seemed to me that he had finished the song, but, judging from the tune, it was never-ending.
"A fine song, my good fellow," I remarked from behind.
The rascal did not turn round.
"Oh!—it's no' so bad. It's got the endurin' quality o' carrying a moral," he answered.
"You seem to be clear in the conscience yourself," said I.
"It'll be clearer when I get outside o' this rabbit," he returned, still not deigning to look at me.
"But you did not seem to be startled when I spoke to you," I remarked in surprise.
"What way should I? I never saw the man yet that I was feart o'. Forby,—I kent you were there."