“My mother, however, made my father an excellent wife; and if my father in the long run did not do well it was no fault of hers.  My father was not a bad man by nature, he was of an easy, generous temper, the most unfortunate temper, by the bye, for success in this life that any person can be possessed of, as those who have it are almost sure to be made dupes of by the designing.  But, though easy and generous, he was anything but a fool; he had a quick and witty tongue of his own when he chose to exert it, and woe be to those who insulted him openly, for there was not a better boxer in the whole country round.  My parents were married several years before I came into the world, who was their first and only child.  I may be called an unfortunate creature; I was born with this beam or scale on my left eye, which does not allow me to see with it; and though I can see tolerably sharply with the other, indeed more than most people can with both of theirs, it is a great misfortune not to have two eyes like other people.  Moreover, setting aside the affair of my eye, I had a very ugly countenance; my mouth being slightly wrung aside, and my complexion swarthy.  In fact, I looked so queer that the gossips and neighbours, when they first saw me, swore I was a changeling—­perhaps it would have been well if I had never been born; for my poor father, who had been particularly anxious to have a son, no sooner saw me than he turned away, went to the neighbouring town, and did not return for two days.  I am by no means certain that I was not the cause of his ruin, for till I came into the world he was fond of his home, and attended much to business, but afterwards he went frequently into company, and did not seem to care much about his affairs:  he was, however, a kind man, and when his wife gave him advice never struck her, nor do I ever remember that he kicked me when I came in his way, or so much as cursed my ugly face, though it was easy to see that he didn’t over-like me.  When I was six years old I was sent to the village-school, where I was soon booked for a dunce, because the master found it impossible to teach me either to read or write.  Before I had been at school two years, however, I had beaten boys four years older than myself, and could fling a stone with my left hand (for if I am right-eyed I am left-handed) higher and farther than any one in the parish.  Moreover, no boy could equal me at riding, and no people ride so well or desperately as boys.  I could ride a donkey—­a thing far more difficult to ride than a horse—­at full gallop over hedges and ditches, seated, or rather floating upon his hinder part,—­so, though anything but clever, as this here Romany Rye would say, I was yet able to do things which few other people could do.  By the time I was ten my father’s affairs had got into a very desperate condition, for he had taken to gambling and horse-racing, and, being unsuccessful, had sold his stock, mortgaged his estate, and incurred very serious debts.  The upshot was, that within a little time all he had was seized, himself imprisoned, and my mother and myself put into a cottage belonging to the parish, which, being very cold and damp, was the cause of her catching a fever, which speedily carried her off.  I was then bound apprentice to a farmer, in whose service I underwent much coarse treatment, cold, and hunger.