"I must git that ball an' chain off," the sailor said; "but iron, in
these ole sandy parts, is scarce as gold."
He lifted her out of the scow and laid her in the shade, and began to
explore the old house. To his joy, he found the iron crane still hanging
in the chimney, and signs of recent fire.
"These yer ole cranes was valleyble once," Jimmy said, "an' in the wills
they left 'em to their children like farms, an' lawsuits was had over
the bilin' pots an' the biggest kittles. It broke a woman's heart to git
a little kittle left her, an' the big-kittled gal was jest pestered with
beaux. But, by smoke! we're a-makin' iron now in Amerikey! Kittles is
cheap, and that's why this crane is left by robbers an' gypsies after
they used it."
He twisted the crane out of the bricks on which it was hinged, and some
of the mantel jamb fell down.
"Hallo!" cried Jimmy, "what's this a rollin' yer? A shillin', by George!
I say, by George, this time caze ole George the Third's picter's on it.
Maybe thar's more of 'em."
He pulled a few bricks out of the jamb, and raked the hollow space
inside with his hand, and brought forth a steel purse of English
manufacture, filled with shillings at one end, and fifteen golden
guineas at the other; they rolled out through the decayed filigree,
rusted, probably, by the rain percolating through the chimney, and the
purse crumbled to iron-mould in his hand.
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