One day, a rich man, flushed with pride and wine,
Sitting with guests at table, all quite merry,
Conceived it would be vastly fine
To crack a joke upon his secretary.

"Young man," said he, "by what art, craft, or trade
Did your good father earn his livelihood?"
"He was a saddler, sir," the young man said;
"And in his line was always reckoned good."

"A saddler, eh? and had you stuffed with Greek,
Instead of teaching you like him to sew?
And pray, sir, why did not your father make
A saddler, too, of you?"
At this each flatterer, as in duty bound,
The joke applauded, and the laugh went round.

At length the secretary, bowing low,
Said (craving pardon if too free he made),
"Sir, by your leave I fain would know
Your father's trade."

"My father's trade? Why, sir, but that's too bad!
My father's trade? Why, blockhead, art thou mad?
My, father, sir, was never brought so low:
He was a gentleman, I'd have you know."

"Indeed! excuse the liberty I take;
But if your story's true,