and let him off for three-and-twenty weeks the money he owed me, holidays came, and threepence he owed me still. Well, according to the common principles of practice, after six weeks' holidays, he ought to have paid me exactly sixteen shillings, which was my due. For the First week the 3_d._ would be 6_d._ Second week 1_s._ Third week 2_s._ Fourth week 4_s._ Fifth week 8_s._ Sixth week 16_s._ Nothing could be more just; and yet, will it be believed? when Bunting came back, he offered me _three-halfpence_! the mean, dishonest scoundrel! However, I was even with him, I can tell you.—He spent all his money in a fortnight, and _then_ I screwed him down! I made him, besides giving me a penny for a penny, pay me a quarter of his bread and butter at breakfast, and a quarter of his cheese at supper; and before the half-year was out, I got from him a silver fruit knife, a box of compasses, and a very pretty silver-laced waistcoat, in which I went home as proud as a king: and, what's more, I had no less than three golden guineas in the pocket of it, besides fifteen shillings, the knife, and a brass bottle-screw, which I got from another chap. It wasn't bad interest for twelve shillings, which was all the money I'd had in the year, was it? Heigh ho! I've often wished that I could get such a chance again in this wicked world; but men are more avaricious now than they used to be in those early days. [Illustration] Well, I went home in my new waistcoat as fine as a peacock; and when I gave the bottle-screw to my father, begging him to take it as a token of my affection for him, my dear mother burst into such a fit of tears as I never saw, and kissed and hugged me fit to smother me. "Bless him, bless him," says she, "to think of his old father! And where did you purchase it, Bob?"—"Why, mother," says I, "I purchased it out of my savings" (which was as true as the gospel).—When I said this, mother looked round to father, smiling, although she had tears in her eyes, and she took his hand, and with her other hand drew me to her. "Is he not a noble boy?" says she to my father: "and only nine years old!" "Faith!" says my father, "he _is_ a good lad, Susan. Thank thee, my boy: and here is a crown piece in return for thy bottle-screw;—it shall open us a bottle of the very best, too," says my father; and he kept his word. I always was fond of good wine (though never, from a motive of proper self-denial, having any in my cellar); and, by Jupiter! on this night I had my little skin full,—for there was no stinting—so pleased were my dear parents with the bottle-screw.—The best of it was, it only cost me threepence originally, which a chap could not pay me.