g its spots as the leaves are rustled by
the wind. Now, let us lie down here, and not care a fig for the world.
I am a philosopher; do you know that?"

"I don't exactly know what it means; a very clever, good man--is it
not?"

"Well, not exactly; a man may be a philosopher without being very good,
or without being very clever. A philosopher is a man who never frets
about anything, cares about nothing, is contented with a little, and
doesn't envy any one who appears better off than himself, at least that
is my school of philosophy. You stare, boy, to hear a tinker talk in
this way--I perceive that; but you must know that I am a tinker by
choice; and I have tried many other professions before, all of which
have disgusted me."

"What other professions have you been?"

"I have been--let me see--I almost forget; but I'll begin at the
beginning. My father was a gentleman, and until I was fourteen years
old I was a gentleman, or the son of one; then he died, and that
profession was over, for he left nothing; my mother married again, and
left me; she left me at school, and the master kept me there for a year,
in hopes of being paid; but, hearing nothing of my mother, and not
knowing what to do with me, he at last (for he was a kind man) installed
me as under usher of the school; for, you see, my education had been
good, and I was well qualified for the situation, as far as capability
went: it was rather a bathos, though, to sink from a gentleman's son to
an under usher; but I was not a philosopher at that time. I handed the
toast to the master and mistress, the head ushers and parlour boarders,
but was not allowed any myself; I taught Latin and Greek, and English
Grammar, to the little boys, who made faces at me, and put crooked pins
on the bottom of my chair; I walked at the head of the string when they
went out for an airing, and walked upstairs the last when it was time to
go to bed. I had all the drudgery, and none of the comforts I was up
first, and held answerable for all deficiencies; I had to examine all
their nasty little trowsers, and hold weekly conversation with the
botcher, as to the possibility of repairs; to run out if a hen cackled,
that the boys should not get the egg; to wipe the noses of my mistress's
children, and carry them if they roared; to pay for all broken glass, if
I could not discover the culprit to account for all bad smells, for all
noise, and for all ink spilled; to make all the pens, an