irregular
watch to-morrow."

"Why so, my lad?"

"Because I shall be _out of my time_."

"Take that, my lad," said the gentleman, tossing half-a-crown to Tom.

"Thanky, sir; when we meet again may you have no more wit than you have
now."

"How do you mean?"

"Not wit enough to keep your money, sir--that's all!"

"I presume you think that I have not got much."

"Which, sir; wit or money?"

"Wit, my lad."

"Nay, sir, I think you have both: the first you purchased just now; and
you would hardly have bought it, if you had not money to spare."

"But I mean wit of my own."

"No man has wit of his own; if he borrows it, it's not his own; if he
has it in himself, it's _mother_ wit, so it's not his."

We pulled into the stairs near London Bridge, and the gentleman paid me
his fare. "Good-bye, my lad," said he to Tom.

"Fare-you-well, for well you've paid your fare," replied Tom, holding
out his arm to assist him out of the boat. "Well, Jacob, I've made more
by my head than by my hands this morning. I wonder, in the long run,
which gains most in the world."

"Head, Tom, depend upon it; but they work best together."

Here we were interrupted--"I say, you watermen, have you a mind for a
good fare?" cried a dark-looking, not over clean, square-built, short
young man, standing on the top of the flight of steps.

"Where to, sir?"

"Gravesend, my jokers, if you ain't afraid of salt water."

"That's a long way, sir," replied Tom; "and for salt water, we must have
salt to our porridge."

"So you shall, my lads, and a glass of grog into the bargain."

"Yes; but the bargain a'n't made yet, sir. Jacob, will you go?"

"Yes, but not under a guinea."

"Not under two guineas," replied Tom, aside. "Are you in a great hurry,
sir?" continued he, addressing the young man.

"Yes, in a devil of a hurry; I shall lose my ship. What will you take
me for?"

"Two guineas, sir."

"Very well. Just come up to the public-house here, and put in my
traps."

We brought down his luggage, put it into the wherry, and started down
the river with the tide. Our fare was very communicative, and we found
out that he was the master's mate of the _Immortalite_, forty-gun
frigate, lying off Gravesend, which was to drop down next morning and
wait for sailing orders at the Downs. We carried the tide with us, and
in the afternoon were close to the frigate, whose blue ensign waved
proudly over the taffrail. There was a considerable