Note 11 — Chapter VIII

"An interesting occurrence took place at Folkingham.[11] A poor woman who had obtained a pass billet to remain there all night, was sitting by the fire of the kitchen of the Greyhound Inn, with an infant child at her breast, when two chimney sweeps came in, who had been engaged to sweep some of the chimneys belonging to the inn early next morning. They were, according to custom, treated to a supper, which they had begun to eat, when the younger, a boy about seven years of age, happening to cast his eyes upon the woman, (who had been likewise viewing them with a fixed attention from their first entrance,) started up, and exclaimed in a frantic tone—'That's my mother!' and immediately flew into her arms.