so abhorred, and the reports against
her so shocking where she resided, that she was glad to leave a place
where every one, as she passed, would get out of her way, as if to avoid
contamination. Yet these reports were vague, although hinting at some
horrid and appalling crimes. No one knew what they exactly were, for
the old woman had outlived her contemporaries, and the tradition was
imperfect; but she had been handed down to the next generation as one to
be avoided as a basilisk.

It was to his mother's abode, one room on the second floor, to which Mr
Vanslyperken proceeded, as soon as he had taken the necessary steps for
the replacing, of the boat. As he ascended the stairs, the quack ear of
the old woman heard his footstep, and recognised it. It must be
observed, that all the conversation between Vanslyperken and his mother
was carried on in Dutch, of which we, of course, give the translation.

"There you come, Cornelius Vanslyperken; I hear you, and by your hurried
tread, you are vexed: Well, why should you not be vexed as well as your
mother, in this world of devils?"

This was a soliloquy of the old woman's before that Vanslyperken had
entered the room, where he found his mother sitting over a few cinders
half ignited in a very small grate. Parsimony would not allow her to
use more fuel, although her limbs trembled as much from cold as palsy;
her nose and chin nearly met; her lips were like old scars, and of an
ashy white; and her sunken hollow mouth reminded you of a small, deep,
dark sepulchre; teeth she had none.

"How fare you, mother?" said Vanslyperken, on entering the room.

"I'm alive."

"And long may you live, dear mother."

"Ah!" replied the woman, as if doubting.

"I am here but for a short time," continued Vanslyperken.

"Well, child, so much the better: when on board you save money, on shore
you must spend some. Have you brought any with you?"

"I have, mother, which I must leave to your care."

"Give it me, then."

Vanslyperken pulled out a bag and laid it on the lap of his mother,
whose trembling hands counted it over.

"Gold, and good gold--while you live, my child, part not with gold.
I'll not die yet--no, no, the devils may pull at me, and grin at me, but
I'm not theirs yet."

Here the old woman paused, and rocked herself in her chair.

"Cornelius, lock this money up, and give me the key there, now that is
safe, you may talk, if you please, child: I can hear well enough."