low; he heaves a sigh; He longs for single days, gone by. He's doomed to die a martyr."
The peculiar fellow stopped, opened a red-coloured handkerchief, took out a hunk of bread and set it down by his side with slow deliberation. It was quite two minutes ere he started off again.
"Now, friends, beware, take my advice; When eating sugar, think of spice; Before you marry, ponder twice: Remember Ned the carter."
From the words, it seemed to me that he had finished the song, but, judging from the tune, it was never-ending.
"A fine song, my good fellow," I remarked from behind.
The rascal did not turn round.
"Oh!--it's no' so bad. It's got the endurin' quality o' carrying a moral," he answered.
"You seem to be clear in the conscience yourself," said I.
"It'll be clearer when I get outside o' this rabbit," he returned, still not deigning to look at me.
"But you did not seem to be startled when I spoke to you," I remarked in surprise.
"What way sh