‘Once,’ he began, ‘in my early days, I went by the name of Poor Robin; by the occupation of an honeſt purſe-maker in a country town I gained a miſerable livelihood; for there is no profeſſion that keeps a man ſo low as honeſty. Although my purſes had a ready ſale, becauſe the report went abroad that they kept money well, the maker having a lucky hand, as being a ſeventh ſon; yet this idea was contradicted by my own caſe, for my purſe continued always as empty as a conſcientious ſtomach on a faſt-day: and if my cuſtomers found their gold to keep well in the purſes they bought from me, neither the lucky hand of the maker, in my opinion, nor the goodneſs of the work, were any way concerned in the matter; I impute the advantage ſolely to the materials of my purſes, for they were all of leather; and you muſt know, ſir, that your leathern purſe always holds money faſter than an open ſilk purſe. The man that is
