At this the boy slowly rose, took his cap, stood before her, and solemnly repeated the whole of that melancholy tale, finishing the last line at the door and gravely bowing himself out. I followed, awestruck, and we set out in silence. At first, anxiety for my mother possessed all my thoughts, but presently I ventured to congratulate Tom on his performance. "She has read it to me so often," replied he, "that I can't help knowing it. I hate Dr. Watts, and I love to go to sleep. I dream such jolly things. Sleep is ever so much nicer than being awake, isn't it?" I wanted sleep, having had but little for two nights, and could therefore agree with him. "You get such jolly adventures when you dream," said Tom, reflectively. I had been rather surfeited with adventures lately, so held my peace. "Now, real life is so dull. If one could only meet with adventures--" I caught the sound of wheels behind us, and turned round. We had struck off the downs on to the high road. A light gig with one occupant was approaching us. As it drew near the driver hailed us. "Hullo! lads, is this the road for Polkimbra?" The speaker was a short, grizzled, seafaring man, with a kind face and good-humoured mouth. He drove execrably, and pulled his quiet mare right back upon her haunches. I answered that it was. "Are you bound for there? Yes? Jump up then. I'll give you a lift." I looked at Tom; he, of course, was ready for anything that would save trouble, so we clambered up beside the stranger. "There was a wreck there yesterday, I've heard," said he, after we had gone a few yards, "and an inquest, and, by the tale I heard, a lot of lies told." I started. The man did not notice it, but continued-- "Maybe you've heard of it. Well, it's a rum world, and a fine lot of lies gets told every day, but you don't often get so accomplished a liar as that chap--what's his name? Blessed if I can tackle it; not but what it's another lie, I'll wager." I was listening intently. He continued more to himself than to us-- "An amazing liar, though I wonder what his game was. It beats me; beats me altogether. The '_James and Elizabeth_,' says he, as large as life. I take it the fellow couldn't 'a been fooling who brought the news to Falmouth. Didn't know me from Adam, and was fairly put about when he saw how I took it, and, says he, ''twas the _James and Elizabeth_ the chap said, as sure as I stand here.' Boy, do you happen to know the name of the vessel that ran ashore here, night afore last?" I had grown accustomed to being asked this dreadful question, and therefore answered as bravely as I could. "The _James and Elizabeth_, sir." "Captain's name?" "Captain Antonius Merrydew." "Ah, poor chap! He was lying sick below when she struck, wasn't he? And he had a wife aboard, and a child born at sea, hadn't he? Fell sick in the Bay o' Biscay, like any land-lubber, didn't he? Why, 'tis like play-actin'; damme! 'tis better than that."