“When I was still a young boy, sir, my parents were compelled by calamity to seek refuge in Swisserland, in a town wherein near three parts of the inhabitants lived by watch-making. Being always of a lively and inquisitive constitution, I was used to go continually in and out of the houses and watch the people at their work, and so gathered some slight knowledge of their craft, which my parents remarking allowed me to be trained in’t like any ’prentice-boy of the place, thinking that I might one day be thankful for the power of working in this sort, which indeed I have now proved.” “I had not thought that one of your trade should find much to do here,” says I. “The emperor, as indeed all the Moguls, hath a very pretty taste in clocks and watches,” he made answer, “and owns a prodigious quantity of ’em; but there is no man here can put ’em in order but I, and though not bred thereto, I am thankful to possess the skill for this honest toil.” Now all this was to me somewhat of a perplexity, for though it ben’t counted wrong among us for a gentleman to engage himself in trade, especially that to the East, where no apprentisage is needed, yet it should assuredly be considered disgraceful for him to exercise such a craft as this. But on that head I kept silence, being convinced that I had a gentleman before me. “Sir,” I said, “I perceive that your quality is above your present situation. May I ask to whom I have the honour of speaking?” “Sir,” says he, “with all deference to you, and recognising your kind intentions in asking it, I must still withhold my name. I care little for the blows of Fortune myself, but I have friends that I desire to spare from any pain or disgrace that might be supposed to attend upon the general discovery of my present manner of life, and for their sakes I am resolved not to disclose myself.” “I will respect your wishes, sir,” said I, much taken with his manners, and desiring the more to discover his real name and quality. “Should you desire me to attend upon you again, sir, for any matter of this kind,” says he, holding up the watch, “you will hear of me by the name of the _Ferringhee_,[119] which the Moguls call me, meaning Frenchman, as I suppose. I am considered to be a guest at the emperor’s court, and to receive my victuals from his table; but when he is vexed or busy I am at times forgot, and must be thankful to earn my bread as I may.” “At the least, sir,” said I, when his work wan’t far short of being finished, “you will stay and give us the honour of your company to dinner? I can answer for my chief that he will be rejoiced to bid you welcome.” “No, sir,” says he, again smiling, “while I withhold my name from you, I won’t place myself at your table. What security have you that I an’t some mean fellow masquerading as a person of quality?”