_Dan._ Quite clean--that's why I put 'em on: I should ha' dirted 'em in t' other job. _Per._ Set forward, then. _Dan._ Na, sir, axing your pardon; I be but the guide, and 'tisn't for I to go first. _Per._ Ha! ha! Then we must march abreast, boy, like lusty soldiers, and I shall be side by side with honesty: 'tis the best way of travelling through life's journey, and why not over a heath? Come, my lad. _Dan._ Cheek by jowl, by gum! [_Exeunt PEREGRINE and DAN._ _Dennis._ That walking philosopher--perhaps he'll give me a big bag of money. Then, to be sure, I won't lay out some of it to make me easy for life: for I'll settle a separate maintenance upon ould mother Brulgruddery. _JOB THORNBERRY peeps out of the Door of the Public House._ _Job._ Landlord! _Dennis._ Coming, your honour. _Job._ [_Coming forward._] Hush! don't bawl;--Mary has fallen asleep. You have behaved like an emperor to her, she says. Give me your hand, landlord. _Dennis._ Behaved!--Arrah, now, get away with your blarney. [_Refusing his Hand._ _Job._ Well, let it alone. I'm an old fool, perhaps; but, as you comforted my poor girl in her trouble, I thought a squeeze from her father's hand--as much as to say, "Thank you, for my child."--might not have come amiss to you. _Dennis._ And is it yourself who are that creature's father? _Job._ Her mother said so, and I always believed her. You have heard some'at of what has happen'd, I suppose. It's all over our town, I take it, by this time. Scandal is an ugly, trumpeting devil. Let 'em talk;--a man loses little by parting with a herd of neighbours, who are busiest in publishing his family misfortunes; for they are just the sort of cattle who would never stir over the threshold to prevent 'em. _Dennis._ Troth, and that's true;--and some will only sarve you, because you're convenient to 'em, for the time present; just as my customers come to the Red Cow. _Job._ I'll come to the Red Cow, hail, rain, or shine, to help the house, as long as you are Landlord. Though I must say that your wife---- _Dennis._ [_Putting his Hand before JOB'S Mouth._] Decency! Remember your own honour, and my feelings. I mustn't hear any thing bad, you know, of Mrs. Brulgruddery; and you'll say nothing good of her, without telling damn'd lies; so be asy. _Job._ Well, I've done;--but we mustn't be speaking ill of all the world, neither: there are always some sound hearts to be found among the hollow ones. Now he that is just gone over the heath---- _Dennis._ What, the walking philosopher? _Job._ I don't know any thing of his philosophy; but, if I live these thousand years, I shall never forget his goodness. Then, there's another;--I was thinking, just now, if I had tried him, I might have found a friend in my need, this morning. _Dennis._ Who is he? _Job._ A monstrous good young man; and as modest and affable, as if he had been bred up a 'prentice, instead of a gentleman.