he kegs, "I fancy these
better'n the naked objects upstairs. Suppose we spend the rest o'
the night here? It's easier," he added, "than runnin' to and fro for
the drink. But what about liquor not accumylatin'?"

PART II.

YE SEXES, GIVE EAR!

A STORY FROM A CHIMNEY-CORNER.

A good song, and thank' ee, Sir, for singing it! Time was, you'd
never miss hearing it in these parts, whether 'twas feast or
harvest-supper or Saturday night at the public. A virtuous good
song, too; and the merry fellow that made it won't need to cast about
and excuse himself when the graves open and he turns out with his
fiddle under his arm. My own mother taught it to me; the more by
token that she came from Saltash, and "Ye sexes, give ear" was a
terrible favourite with the Saltash females by reason of Sally
Hancock and her turn-to with the press-gang. Hey? You don't tell
me, after singing the song, that you never heard tell of Sally
Hancock? Well, if--! Here, take and fill my mug, somebody!

'Tis an instructive tale, too. . . . This Sally was a Saltash
fishwoman, and you must have heard of _them_, at all events.
There was Bess Rablin, too, and Mary Kitty Climo, and Thomasine
Oliver, and Long Eliza that married Treleaven the hoveller, and
Pengelly's wife Ann; these made up the crew Sally stroked in the
great race. And besides these there was Nan Scantlebury--she took
Bess Rablin's oar the second year, Bess being a bit too fond of
lifting her elbow, which affected her health--and Phemy Sullivan, an
Irishwoman, and Long Eliza's half-sister Charlotte Prowse, and
Rebecca Tucker, and Susan Trebilcock, that everybody called "Apern,"
and a dozen more maybe: powerful women every one, and proud of it.
The town called them Sally Hancock's Gang, she being their leader,
though they worked separate, shrimping, cockling, digging for lug and
long-lining, bawling fish through Plymouth streets, even a hovelling
job at times--nothing came amiss to them, and no weather. For a trip
to Plymouth they'd put on sea-boots belike, or grey stockings and
clogs: but at home they went bare-legged, and if they wore anything
'pon their heads 'twould be a handkerchief, red or yellow, with a
man's hat clapped a-top; coats too, and guernseys like men's, and
petticoats a short few inches longer; for I'm telling of that
back-along time when we fought Boney and while seafaring men still
wore petticoats--in these parts at any rate. Well, that's how Sally