you have me go to Chester and work there now? I don't like
the thoughts of it. If I go to Chester and work there, I can't be my own
man; I must work under a master, and perhaps he and I should quarrel, and
when I quarrel I am apt to hit folks, and those that hit folks are
sometimes sent to prison; I don't like the thought either of going to
Chester or to Chester prison. What do you think I could earn at Chester?

_Tinker_. A matter of eleven shillings a week, if anybody would employ
you, which I don't think they would with those hands of yours. But
whether they would or not, if you are of a quarrelsome nature, you must
not go to Chester; you would be in the castle in no time. I don't know
how to advise you. As for selling you my stock, I'd see you farther
first, for your own sake.

_Myself_. Why?

_Tinker_. Why! you would get your head knocked off. Suppose you were to
meet him?

_Myself_. Pooh, don't be afraid on my account; if I were to meet him I
could easily manage him one way or other. I know all kinds of strange
words and names, and, as I told you before, I sometimes hit people when
they put me out.

Here the tinker's wife, who for some minutes past had been listening
attentively to our discourse, interposed, saying, in a low soft tone: "I
really don't see, John, why you shouldn't sell the young man the things,
seeing that he wishes for them, and is so confident; you have told him
plainly how matters stand, and if anything ill should befall him, people
couldn't lay the blame on you; but I don't think any ill will befall him,
and who knows but God has sent him to our assistance in time of need."

"I'll hear of no such thing," said the tinker; "I have drunk at the young
man's expense, and though he says he's quarrelsome, I would not wish to
sit in pleasanter company. A pretty fellow I should be, now, if I were
to let him follow his own will. If he once sets up on my beat, he's a
lost man, his ribs will be stove in, and his head knocked off his
shoulders. There, you are crying, but you shan't have your will though;
I won't be the young man's destruction . . . If, indeed, I thought he
could manage the tinker--but he never can; he says he can hit, but it's
no use hitting the tinker;--crying still! you are enough to drive one
mad. I say, young man, I believe you understand a thing or two; just now
you were talking of knowing hard words and names--I don't wish to send
you to your mischief--you say yo