“‘Two shillings!’ said the dame her keen eyes fixed upon me—‘Why, young man, I would not give two shillings for all the clothes you have on your back.’ “I said I was sorry to hear her say that, but how much would she give, then? “‘You are a sailor, I suppose.’ “‘I am, or at least have been,’ I replied. “‘I have a son that is a sailor also,’ she said. “‘I wish him a safe return then,’ I replied. “‘Aye, a safe return, with plenty of prize money,’ she quickly added. “‘Be it as you wish,’ I replied. “‘Are you going to see your friends?’ she asked. “‘I’m going to stay with them, I hope.’ “‘Well, I’ll tell you what I’ll do,’ said the dame. ‘I’ll just give you sixpence for the drawers, and that’s what I call dealing handsomely with you.’ “‘Could you not give me something more, mother,’ I said, trying to soften her by that tender appellation, though but with small hope of success. “‘Not one half-farthing more shall I give, if you talk till night,’ said the dame, ‘and if I ever get the money back again, I shall be lucky.’ “I still chaffered with her, trying to obtain a small advance, but it was of no use, and considering that I might dodge round the whole town, and be no better, I resigned the drawers. “‘Where’s the napkin they were tied in?’ she asked. “‘It’s here,’ I replied, showing it. [Sidenote: _A HARD BARGAIN_] “‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I must have that, you know. I bid at the whole lot.’ “My anger was equalled only by my disgust—the little napkin was very dear to me—and taking up the drawers I was about replacing them in the napkin with a view to leave the shop, when judging as I supposed my purpose, she threw down a sixpence, saying, ‘Give me the drawers: if you were my own son I could not behave better to you.’ “I first secured the sixpence, and, then putting down the drawers, said, ‘God help the son who has such a mother as you to come to,’ and left the place. “My next business was to buy a small loaf, which I soon did, and ate it with a voracious appetite as I went on my way. I proceeded down the street and out of the town without being once annoyed by the appearance of either marine or recruiting party. I passed through Montsorrel and Loughborough without stopping, and took my rest and a draught of porter at a small public-house beyond the latter place. After this, towards evening, I met a company of women coming from the hayfield; they were disposed to be merry, and dancing and singing with their forks and rakes on their shoulders, they formed a ring around me. At length one of the youngest of them sang a snatch of a popular song: I will be sure to return back again If I go ten thousand miles, my dear, If I go ten thousand miles.