The Tinker stopped chewing to stare at me wide-eyed, then
swallowed his mouthful at one gulp.
"Lord love me!" he exclaimed, "and you so young, too!"
"No," said I; "I'm twenty-five."
"And Latin, now--don't tell me you can read the Latin."
"But I can't make a kettle, or even mend one, for that matter,"
said I.
"But you are a scholar, and it's a fine thing to be a scholar!"
"And I tell you again, it is better to be a tinker," said I.
"How so?"
"It is a healthier life, in the first place," said I.
"That, I can believe," nodded the Tinker.
"It is a happier life, in the second place."
"That, I doubt," returned the Tinker.
"And, in the third place, it pays much better."
"That, I don't believe," said the Tinker.
"Nevertheless," said I, "speaking for myself, I have, in the
course of my twenty-five years, earned but ten shillings, and
that--but by the sale of my waistcoat."
"Lord love me!" exclaimed the Tinker, staring.
"A man," I pursued, "may be a far better scholar than I--may be
full of the wisdom of the Ancients, and the teachings of all the
great thinkers and philosophers, and yet starve to death--indeed
frequently does; but who ever heard of a starving Tinker?"
"But a scholar may write great books," said the Tinker.
"A scholar rarely writes a great book," said I, shaking my head,
"probably for the good and sufficient reason that great books
never are written."
"Young fellow," said the Tinker, staring, "what do you mean by
that?"
"I mean that truly great books only happen, and very rarely."
"But a scholar may happen to write a great book," said the
Tinker.
"To be sure--he may; a book that nobody will risk publishing, and
if so--a book that nobody will trouble to read, nowadays."
"Why so?"
"Because this is an eminently unliterary age, incapable of
thought, and therefore seeking to be amused. Whereas the writing
of books was once a painful art, it has of late become a trick
very easy of accomplishment, requiring no regard for probability,
and little thought, so long as it is packed sufficiently full of
impossible incidents through which a ridiculous heroine and a
more absurd hero duly sigh their appointed way to the last chapter.