By-and-by he saw a man playing the bagpipes--Tweedle-dum tweedle-dee.
The children followed him about, and he appeared to be pocketing money
on all sides. “Well,” thought Mr. Vinegar, “if I had but that beautiful
instrument I should be the happiest man alive--my fortune would be
made.”
So he went up to the man. “Friend,” says he, “what a beautiful
instrument that is, and what a deal of money you must make.” “Why, yes,”
said the man, “I make a great deal of money, to be sure, and it is a
wonderful instrument.” “Oh!” cried Mr. Vinegar, “how I should like to
possess it!” “Well,” said the man, “as you are a friend, I don't much
mind parting with it; you shall have it for that red cow.” “Done!” said
the delighted Mr. Vinegar. So the beautiful red cow was given for the
bagpipes.
He walked up and down with his purchase; but it was in vain he tried
to play a tune, and instead of pocketing pence, the boys followed him
hooting, laughing, and pelting.
Poor Mr. Vinegar, his fingers grew very cold, and, just as he was
leaving the town, he met a man with a fine thick pair of gloves. “Oh,
my fingers are so very cold,” said Mr. Vinegar to himself. “Now if I had
but those beautiful gloves I should be the happiest man alive.” He went
up to the man, and said to him, “Friend, you seem to have a capital pair
of gloves there.” “Yes, truly,” cried the man; “and my hands are as warm
as possible this cold November day.” “Well,” said Mr. Vinegar, “I should
like to have them.”. “What will you give?” said the man; “as you are
a friend, I don't much mind letting you have them for those bagpipes.”
“Done!” cried Mr. Vinegar. He put on the gloves, and felt perfectly
happy as he trudged homewards.
At last he grew very tired, when he saw a man coming towards him with a
good stout stick in his hand.
“Oh,” said Mr. Vinegar, “that I had but that stick! I should then be the
happiest man alive.” He said to the man: “Friend! what a rare good stick
you have got.” “Yes,” said the man; “I have used it for many a long
mile, and a good friend it has been; but if you have a fancy for it,
as you are a friend, I don't mind giving it to you for that pair of
gloves.” Mr. Vinegar's hands were so warm, and his legs so tired, that
he gladly made the exchange.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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