“I didn’t know that was the case, Tom.”
“But it is so now, if it wasn’t in olden time. The proverb says, ‘Young people think old people to be fools, but old people know young people to be fools.’ We must alter that, for I says, ‘Old people think young people to be fools, but young people know old people to be fools.’”
“Have it your own way, Tom, that will do, rowed of all.”
We tossed in our oars, made the boat fast, and gained the deck, where old Tom still remained at the helm. “Well,” said he, “Jacob, I never thought I should be glad to see the old gentleman clear of the lighter, but I was—devilish glad; he was like a load on my conscience this morning; he was trusted to my charge by Mr Drummond, and I had no right to persuade him to make a fool of himself. But, however, what’s done can’t be helped, as you say sometimes; and it’s no use crying; still it was a pity, for he be, for all the world, like a child. There’s a fancy kind of lass in that wherry, crossing our bows; look at the streamers from her top-gallant.
“Come o’er the sea,
Maiden, to me,
Mine through sunshine, storm, and snows,
Seasons may roll,
But the true soul
Burns the same wherever it goes
Then come o’er the sea,
Maiden, with me.”
“See you hanged first, you underpinned old hulk!” replied the female in the boat, which was then close under our bows.
“Well, that be civil, for certain,” said old Tom, laughing.