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rather heavy, up to my house, and then I will givo you a receipt for the whole."
Anderson then left us, and I followed Mr. Wilson home. As soon as the money was all recounted, and a note made of it, Mr. Wilson asked me what I wished that he should do with it. I replied, what was the truth-that I really did not know what to do with it, but still I should like to lay it out in something tangible.
“ You want to buy a farm, I suppose, and be a landed proprietor, like Bramble; but I'm afraid there is not enough. But I tell you what, Tom—we lawyers know many things which do not come to everybody's cars; and I know that the proprietor of the house in which your mother lives wishes to sell it; and I think, as he is much pinched for money, that this sum will about buy it. Now your mother pays fifty-five guineas a year for it, and if it sells for 6001., that will give you more than nine per cent. for your money. What do
think?" “Well, sir, I think it's the very best thing I can do; if more should be necessary, I have saved a little besides, which Bramble takes care of. Well, then, I'll see about it.”
A few days afterwards Mr. Wilson told me that the house was to be had for 5601., and that he had closed the bargain.
“I thank you, sir,” replied I. “ Since I have been with you I have been thinking about it, and I wish now you would make it over to my father for his life. You see, sir, my father does put my mother to some expense, and I should like him to be more independent of her. If the house belongs to him, the rent will more than meet any demands he may make upor her purse—and it will be pleasant for both parties—and my mother will pay more respect to my father.”
“I shall do it with pleasure, Tom. You deserve money,
you make a good use of it-I must say that. Come to me to-morrow."
The noxt day I went to my father, and gave him the deed by which he was owner of my mother's house.
Well, now, Tom,” said he, after I had explained why I did so, “this is the kindest thing that ever was done, and God bless you, boy, and a thousand thanks. I shan't mind now calling for two extra pots of porter when I have friends—and I say, Tom, is the garden mine too?"
“Yes, and summer-house; father, all your own property."
"Well, then,” replied he, chuckling, “I have a bit of land of my own to stick my timber toe on after all. Well, I never did expect that. I must go up there, and stand upon it, and feel how I feel."
I communicated to my mother that my father was in future her landlord, at which she expressed much surprise, until I told her how I became possessed of the money. When my father came in, which he did shortly after, she said rather sharply,
“Well, Mr. Saunders, I suppose I must pay you my rent now every quarter ?”
“Pay me !” exclaimed my father ; "come, not so bad as that, neither. Hav'n't you found me in beer, without a grumble, for these many years, and do you think I've forgotten it? No, no ! You've been a kind
woman to me after all, although things did go a little cross at first, and so here's the paper for you to keep for me; and there's an end of the matter, only"
“Only what?” inquired my mother, looking very kindly at my father.
Only let's have a pot of beer now, to drink Tom's health-that's all."
Having thus satisfactorily settled this point, I returned to Chatham. I had promised to take a farewell of my sister and the O'Connors, as I expected they would leave previous to my again coming up the river,
AN ADVENTURE WHICH AT FIRST PROMISED TO BE THE MOST
UNFORTUNATE, AND EVENTUALLY PROVED THE MOST FORTƯ NATE IN MY LIFE.
As Sir James O'Connor would have to remain at least a fortnight longer at Chatham, until his ship was paid off, I made Lady O'Connor promise to write to me, and then started for Deal. I found Bramble and Bessy as usual, delighted to see me, and Mrs. Maddox was as talkative as ever. I received a letter from Lady O'Connor, and also one from Dr. Tadpole, written at the request of my father, informing me that by a letter from Mrs. St. Felix, there was little prospect of her return to Greenwich. I had not been a week at Deal, when a large ship dropped her anchor in the Downs, and made the signal for a pilot.
“Well, Tom,” said Bramble, “I think I shall take a turn now, for I want to go up and see old Anderson.”
“I will take her through, if you please, father; and you may go as a passenger. You don't want money, and I do.”
All's right, Tom-well, then, I'll go as a passenger, and you shall be pilot."
“ Why must you go at all, father? Why not go to Greenwich by the stage?" exclaimed Bessy. “When will you leave off, my dear father ? Surely you're enough now, and might let Tom go without you."
“Quite enough money, but not quite enough of the salt water yet, Bessy," replied Bramble; "and when I do travel, I won't go by land, when I can sail under canvas.”
* Well, you may go this time, father, but this is the cast: if you won't leave off, I will not stay here, that's positive; so when you come on shore some fine day, you may expect to find me absent without leave.”
“Very well; then I'll send Tom to look after you; he'll soon bring you back again."
“ Tom! he wouldn't take the trouble to look after me.”
Very true," replied I, “ every woman who requires looking after is not worth the trouble ; but I've no fear but we shall find you when we come back.”
“ Tom, I hate you,” replied Bessy. “Why do you not join me in persuading father to stay on shore ?"
“ Well, if you hate me, Bessy, it proves, at all events, that I'm not indifferent to you,” said I, laughing; “but really and truly, Bessy, I do not consider there is any very great risk in your father going up the river with me, as he will be in smooth water before dark."
“Well, but, allowing that, why should father go at all ?"
"I want to see old Anderson, my love," replied Bramble, taking his pipe out of his mouth.
“ Yes, and if you once begin again, you'll not leave off-I know it well: you will never come home except. to get clean linen, and be off again ; and I shall be in a constant state of alarm and misery. How selfish of you, father! You had better by far have left me to drown on the Goodwin Sands—it would have been more kind," replied Bessy, weeping.
“Bessy," said Bramble, “it's my opinion that you are in love."
“ In love!” cried Bessy, colouring to her throat.
“ Yes, in love, my dear; or you would not talk such nonsense.”
“ If loving you as my father is being in love, I am, unfortunately."
“ That's only half of the story; now give us the other," said Bramble, smiling.
“What do you mean?" inquired Bessy, turning to him.
Why, how do you love Tom ?" “Not half so much as I love her," said I.
“ Well, if that's the case," replied Bramble, " we may as well publish the banns; for Bessy's in love right over the ankles."
“ F'ather, this may be very pleasant mockery ; but I think it is not kind to breed ill-will between those who live under the same roof. Now, you may go away ; and if the knowledge that you have made me unhappy will add to the pleasure of your journey, I can assure