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The Tinker sloiped his clasp-knife upon the leg of his

breeches, closed it, and slipped it into his pocket

"Nevertheless," said he at last, "I a man"

"Be that as it may," said I, "the bacon was delicious I have

never enjoyed a meal so much--except once at an inn called 'The

Old Cock'"

"I know it," nodded the Tinker; "a very poor house"

"But the has are beyond praise," said I; "still,remain a pleasant

man, and I

wish you happiness"

"What is happiness?" said I The Tinker reain

"Happiness," said he, "happiness is the state of being content

with one's self, the world, and everything in general"

"Then," said I, "I fear I can never be happy"

"And why not?"

"Because, supposing I ever becaeneral, which is highly improbable, I shall never,

never be contented with myself"