“‘The invention of new religions,’ ses the King, ‘doesn’t seem to beget a spirit of communism, nor does it seem to bring us any nearer Christianity in its ideal state. All the same, I suppose a large city like Boston must have a mayor to look after himself and his people.’
“‘Of course, Boston has a mayor and an ex-mayor too,’ ses Matty.
“‘Bedad,’ ses the King, ‘as sure as there are bones in a sprat, that must be the reason why ’tis called the Hub. And I dare say,’ ses he, ‘they must have poets in Boston also.’
“‘They have,’ ses Matty, ‘in the churchyards.’
“‘That’s the best place for them,’ ses the King. ‘They will be more respected and appreciated there than anywhere else. Besides, ’tis wiser, cheaper, and more cultured to patronize poets and philosophers when they are dead and famous, than to run the risk of being ridiculed for having the wit to recognise them while they are alive. A poet, God help us, seldom does any good for himself, but nevertheless he can always be an advantage to posterity, his relations, and the booksellers, after he is dead long enough to be misunderstood,’ ses the King.
“‘’Tis the devil of a thing to be poor,’ ses Matty.
“‘Not at all, man,’ ses the King. ‘Poverty, as the Cardinal said to the Hibernians, is a gift of God.’
“‘A gift of God?’
“‘Yes.’
“‘Well, then, ’tisn’t much of a gift,’ ses Matty.