was not to be sneered at, for old
Gregorics had done well in the wine trade. In those days it was easier
to get on in that line than it is now, for, in the first place, there
was wine in the country, and in the second place there were no Jews. In
these days there is plenty of Danube water in the wine-cellars, but not
much juice of the grapes.

Nature had blessed Pal Gregorics with a freckly face and red hair, which
made people quote the old saying, "Red-haired people are never good."

So Pal Gregorics made up his mind to prove that it was untrue. All these
old sayings are like pots in which generations have been cooking for
ages, and Pal Gregorics intended to break one of them. He meant to be
"as good as a piece of bread, and as soft as butter, which allows itself
to be spread equally well on white bread or black." (This is a favorite
phrase among the peasants, when describing a very good man.)

And he was as good a man as you could wish to see, but what was the good
of it? Some evil spirit always seemed to accompany him and induce people
to misunderstand his intentions.

The day he came back from Pest, where he had been completing his
studies, he went into a tobacconist's shop and bought some fine Havanas,
which at once set all the tongues in Besztercebanya wagging.

"The good-for-nothing fellow smokes seven-penny cigars, does he? That is
a nice way to begin. He'll die in the workhouse. Oh, if his poor dead
father could rise from his grave and see him! Why, the old man used to
mix dry potato leaves with his tobacco to make it seem more, and poured
the dregs of the coffee on it to make it burn slower."

Pal Gregorics heard that he had displeased the good townsfolk by smoking
such dear cigars, and immediately took to short halfpenny ones. But this
did not suit them either, and they remarked:

"Really, Pal Gregorics is about the meanest man going, he'll be worse
than his father in time!"

Gregorics felt very vexed at being called mean, and decided to take the
very next opportunity to prove the contrary. The opportunity presented
itself in the form of a ball, given in aid of a hospital, and of which
the Mayoress of the town was patroness. The programme announced that
though the tickets were two florins each, any larger sum would be
gratefully accepted. So Pal Gregorics gave twenty florins for his
two-florin ticket, thinking to himself "They shan't say I am mean this
time."

Upon that the members of the committee