"Here's a fellow will rip up his kinsman's follies of a good score of years' standing.

And for the gold, why, sirs, I have been where it grew, and was to be had for the gathering.

In the New World have I been, man--in the Eldorado, where urchins play at cherry-pit with diamonds, and country wenches thread rubies for necklaces, instead of rowan-tree berries; where the pantiles are made of pure gold, and the paving-stones of virgin silver." "By my credit, friend Mike," said young Laurence Goldthred, the cutting mercer of Abingdon, "that were a likely coast to trade to.

And what may lawns, cypruses, and ribands fetch, where gold is so plenty ?" "Oh, the profit were unutterable," replied Lambourne, "especially when a handsome young merchant bears the pack himself; for the ladies of that clime are bona-robas, and being themselves somewhat sunburnt, they catch fire like tinder at a fresh complexion like thine, with a head of hair inclining to be red." "I would I might trade thither," said the mercer, chuckling.
"Why, and so thou mayest," said Michael--"that is, if thou art the same brisk boy who was partner with me at robbing the Abbot's orchard.

'Tis but a little touch of alchemy to decoct thy house and land into ready money, and that ready money into a tall ship, with sails, anchors, cordage, and all things conforming; then clap thy warehouse of goods under hatches, put fifty good fellows on deck, with myself to command them, and so hoist topsails, and hey for the New World!" "Thou hast taught him a secret, kinsman," said Giles Gosling, "to decoct, an that be the word, his pound into a penny and his webs into a thread .-- Take a fool's advice, neighbour Goldthred.