nkful heart.
Hows'ever, 'bout the work. I wants you to take the dree jackasses
an' go to beach for ore-weed, an' as I likes to gie a good boy like
you a vew privileges, you be busy an' carry so many seams [1] as you
can, an' I'll gie drappence for ivery seam more'n twenty.'

"Well, sir, I worked like a Trojan, an' ha'f killed they jackasses;
an' I tell 'ee 'twas busy all to carry dree-an'-twenty seam. In the
eveling, arter work, I went to Lawyer Mennear an' axed 'n 'bout the
nine-pence--I niver got ninepence so hard in all my born days.
When he paid me, he looked so sly, an' says he--

"' You'm a nation clever boy, you be, an' I doan't gridge 'ee the
money. But now I sees what you _can_ do, of cou'se I shall 'spect
'ee to carry dree-an'-twenty seam ivery day, reg'lar: for the
workman,' says he, 'es worthy of hes hire.'

"'Darn et!' thought I to mysel', 'this won't do;' an' I niver seed
azackly the beef an' pudden th' ould man talked about. Hows'ever, I
stayed wi' the psalmas-'untin' ould cadger, tho' et made me 'most
'mazed at times to hear the way he'd carry on down at the Meetin'
House 'bout the sen o' greed an' the like, an' all the time lookin'
round to see who owed 'n a happeny. 'My brethren,' he'd call out,
'my pore senful flock, ef you clings to your flocks an' herds, an'
tents an' dyed apparel, like onto Korah shall you be, an' like onto
Dathan an' Abiram, so sure as I be sole agent for Carnaby's Bone
Manure in this 'ere destrict.' 'Tes true, sir. An' then he'd rap out
the hemn, 'Common metre, my brethren, an' Sister Tresidder'll gie the
pitch--"

'Whativer, Lord, us lends to Thee
Repaid a thousan'fold'll be,
Then gladly will us gie to Thee.'

"An' I reckon that was 'bout the size o't. Aw, he was an anointed
ould rascal.

"All the same, Lawyer Mennear was reckon'd a powerful wrastler en the
sperrit by the rest o' the Church-Membership; on'y there was wan
thing as went agen 'un, an' that was he hadn' but wan eye; tho' Maria
Chirgwin, as was known to have had experience, an' was brought under
conviction by th' ould man, told me that et made 'n luk the more
terrifyin'--"

"Like Polyphemus," put in Mr. Fogo.

"Polly which?"

"Never mind."

"I disknowledged the surname. But niver mind, as you say, sir;
feelin's es feelin's, an' th' ould Mennear's wan eye went mortal agen
'un. Not but what he wudn' turn et to account now an' then.
'Tummas doubted,' he said wan day, 'an' how was h