The beggar, on receiving it, poured forth
blessings without number; and, with a sort of smile on his
countenance, said to Harley "that if he wanted to have his fortune
told"--Harley turned his eye briskly on the beggar: it was an
unpromising look for the subject of a prediction, and silenced the
prophet immediately. "I would much rather learn," said Harley,
"what it is in your power to tell me: your trade must be an
entertaining one; sit down on this stone, and let me know something
of your profession; I have often thought of turning fortune-teller
for a week or two myself."
"Master," replied the beggar, "I like your frankness much; God knows
I had the humour of plain-dealing in me from a child, but there is
no doing with it in this world; we must live as we can, and lying
is, as you call it, my profession, but I was in some sort forced to
the trade, for I dealt once in telling truth.
"I was a labourer, sir, and gained as much as to make me live: I
never laid by indeed: for I was reckoned a piece of a wag, and your
wags, I take it, are seldom rich, Mr. Harley."
"So," said Harley, "you seem to know me."
"Ay, there are few folks in the country that I don't know something
of: how should I tell fortunes else?"
"True; but to go on with your story: you were a labourer, you say,
and a wag; your industry, I suppose, you left with your old trade,
but your humour you preserve to be of use to you in your new.
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