r mine; so
there we are equal again."

"And there's the grog fast," replied old Tom, turning the key, and
putting it into his pocket. "That's a stopper over all; so now we'll go
on deck."

I have narrated this conversation, as it will give the reader a better
idea of Tom, and his way of treating his father. Tom was fond of his
father, and although mischievous, and too fond of drinking when he could
obtain liquor, was not disobedient or vicious. We had nearly reached
Battersea Fields when they returned on deck.

"Do you know, Jacob, how the parish of Battersea came into the
possession of those fields?"

"No, I do not."

"Well, then, I'll tell you; it was because the Battersea people were
more humane and charitable than their neighbours. There was a time when
those fields were of no value; now they're worth a mint of money, they
say. The body of a poor devil, who was drowned in the river, was washed
on shore on those banks, and none of the parishes would be at the
expense of burying it. The Battersea people, though they had least
right to be called upon, would not allow the poor fellow's corpse to be
lying on the mud, and they went to the expense. Now, when the fields
became of value, the other parishes were ready enough to claim them; but
the case was tried, and as it was proved that Battersea had buried the
body, the fields were decided to belong to that parish. So they were
well paid for their humanity, and they deserved it. Mr Drummond says
you know the river well, Jacob."

"I was born on it."

"Yes, so I heard, and all about your father and mother's death. I was
telling Tom of it, because he's too fond of _bowsing up his jib_."

"Well, father, there's no occasion to remind Jacob; the tear is in his
eye already," replied Tom, with consideration.

"I wish you never had any other _drop_ in your _eye_,--but never mind,
Jacob, I didn't think of what I was saying. Look ye, d'ye see that
little house with the two chimneys--that's mine, and there's my old
woman.--I wonder what she's about just now." Old Tom paused for a
while, with his eyes fixed on the object, and then burst out:--

"I've crossed the wide waters, I've trod the lone strand,
I've triumphed in battle, I've lighted the brand,
I've borne the loud thunder of death o'er the foam;
Fame, riches, ne'er found them,--yet still found a home.

"Tom, boy, haul up the skiff and paddle on shore with the bundle; ask
the old woman how she is