_John_—If Scotland and Wales had sympathised with Ireland, and fought her battles for freedom, the sweetest and greenest Isle of all the earth would now be free like my dear America, and Scotland and Wales could also have enjoyed the blessings of liberty. _Enter Washer Woman._ _Washer Woman_—And so I have caught the old Scotch Serpent at last, eh? I have been here a dozen times, and also at your last boarding house, which you left without paying a poor widow (with five young children) for your board, and she is very sick in consequence of your cowardly villainy, and is about to have another child, and her landlord told her yesterday that she must move immediately, or he would turn her into the street, for not paying her rent. But I’ll stand none of your wickedness. And now, Bennett, if you don’t instantly pay me for washing and mending your filthy and ragged clothes, I will rope you on the spot. (She takes a rope from behind her apron.) _Bennett_—Call in the morning, and I will certainly pay you. _Washer Woman_—I shall do no such thing, you lying diddler. I will have it now, or I will rope you, and pull your hair, and scratch and bite, and maul you to a jelly. (She approaches him with menacing gestures.) _Bennett_—There, good woman,—there’s your money. (She seizes it and departs, wagging her head and body with victorious vociferations.) _Bennett_—There, Master Kelly, you perceive that I am very poor. _John_—Yes, sir, and so am I, and I like to be with the poor, because they are far more kind and generous than the rich. _Bennett_ (wiping a tear from his eye)—My boy, I can see a noble heart in your breast, and you remind me of the happy friends I left in my native land, whom I may never see again, and who are ignorant of the terrible vicissitudes through which I have passed, since I left my dear father’s roof. _John_—What country is yours? _Bennett_—Scotland. _John_—Ah! Scotland! My adored grandfather’s native home! O, I love you much better, now that I learn you came from Scotland. _Bennett_—No more of this, dear boy. I cannot talk of my present poverty, and of my native skies, without sad emotions. And now to business. Can you write a handsome hand? _John_—I can write a plain hand. _Bennett_—Can you spell well? _John_—Tolerably well, for a poor boy. _Bennett_—Do you understand figures? _John_—Better than spelling or writing. _Bennett_—How much do you want a week? _John_—Enough to buy shoes and jacket and trowsers, and pay my father and mother something for my food and lodging. _Bennett_—Well, if you prove active, and answer my purpose, I will reward you according to my success in my new enterprise. _John_—When do you want me to come?