you back th' first time I've a chance,-I will for sure, if I'm a livin' mon!'

"O' reet, my lad! Well,-thou says thou'll wortch thi' passage?'

"Sure, I will!'
"What conto do?'

66 6

Oh,-aught at o' !

"Arto ony hond at drivin'?'

"Well, I should be, for I drove a cart for Owd Shapper six year.'

"Conto manage to drive yon horse for us?'

""Me? Ay! as weel as ony mon i' Manchester.'

"Well, off witho, an' get agate then; it's time to start.'

"And away went Nat, as content as a king; an' mile after mile he drove th' horse along th' canal bank, thinking to his-sel, now an' then, as he looked down at th' ground, 'I met as weel ha' gone up th' owd road, an' walked it, for aught 'at I can see.' An' then he'd give a look back at th' boat an' console his-sel wi' sayin', 'But I am gooin' wi' 'em 'at after o'. An' o' this time th' captain. stood wi' th' tiller in his hond, steerin', an' watchin' poor Nat as he trail't along th' bank, an' wonderin' how fur he'd goo afore he fund it out. But Nat drove to th' fur end, as quiet as an owd sheep; an' when

they geet to Runcorn he shook honds wi' th' captain, an' he said, 'Well; I can nobbut thank yo,-I'se never forget yo!'

'Well,-the captain wur a daycent chap, an' he said, 'Nawe; nor I'se never forget thee, owd lad! Here, come; we're noan beawn to put upo' good natur'. Thou's be paid for thi drivin', as how!' So they raise't him five shillin',-an' they gave him a good feed, an' they towd him what a foo he'd made of his-sel.

"By th' mass,' said Nat, 'I kept thinkin' there were summat wrang about it!'"

66

H

'Owd Pinder wur a rackless foo',
An' spent his days i' spreein' ;
At th' end of every drinkin'-do,
He're sure to crack o' deein !"

YELLO; wheer arto for, at sich a pelt? Arto runnin' thi country?' "I'm gooin' down to Posy Bill's for a canful o' traycle, an' a burn (burden) o' Payshen Docks 'at I laft last neet."

66

Well,-if thou'll stop an' rosin hauve a minute, I'll goo witho. . . . Is yon Rondle o' Crumper's marlockin' about th' fowd again?"

"It's nought else. Th' owd lad's brokken out in a fresh place; an' he's as peeort as a pynot."

"It's never true, belike. Why, by th' mass, I lippent o' yerrin' his passin'-bell every day."

"

"Ay; an' so did I. He's had a tight run wi' th' owd mower this whet; but he is yon, again, thou sees, -as cant as a kittlin!"

"Ay; he's yon,-for sure. I'll tell tho what, some folk takken a deeol o' kiltlin'." "Ay; they done-an' owd Rondle's as hard as brazzil. But it's bin a rough poo through for th' owd dog this time."

"So they say'n. Why they tell'n me that he wur clen off at th' side for a while."

"Ay; an' it's true enough, too. He weren't his own person for mony a week; an' he wander't an' maunder't in his talk; an' they could get nought into him nobbut suction."

"An' they tell'n me that he yammer't for rum,—neet an' day."

An' so he did; an' th' doctor towd Betty that hoo weren't to let him ha' noan upo' no 'ceawnt. But it seems that while her back were turn't one day, th' owd'st lad fot him some, an' leet him have a good poo at it,for quietness. Well,-when th' doctor coom, he snifted about a bit, an' he said, 'Hello, Betty; yo'n bin givin' him rum again!' But Betty said, 'Mich and moore that hoo'd never gan him noan.' 'Well, then,' said th' doctor, lookin' round among 'em, 'somebry else has!' Well, the owd'st lad happen't to be theer at th' time, an' he said, 'It's me

I couldn't help it!

'at did it! He went on so, 'at I couldn't bide to yer it; so I fot (fetched) him a saup, an' leet him sup a time or two, while my mother wur out.' 'Well, but,' said th' doctor, 'I tell yo again,-yo munnot do it! Yo'n kill him if yo letten him ha' rum!' Well,' said th' lad, wipin' his een, 'I couldn't bide to yer him.' 'But it'll kill him, I tell tho!' 'Well, an' if it does kill him,' said th' lad, he couldn't dee o' nought 'at he likes better!'

"Well, thou knows, th' lad wur reet as far as it went. But they had to give o'er givin' him rum, an' sich like stuff as that; an', in a bit, he began o' pickin' up his crumbs, an' he coom to his-sel' again. Didto never yer

...

about 'em changin' his diet?"

"Nawe; I don't know 'at I have."

"Well, then, gi's a reech o' 'bacco, an' I'll tell tho. . . . This is how it let. . . . Th' doctor went in one day, th' same as usual, an' he said, 'Well, Betty, how's owd lad gettin' on? Eh,' said Betty, 'he's very ill,-he is for sure. I don't know what I mun do. But yo'd better goo up, an' look at him.' So he went up stairs; an' when he coom down again, Betty said, 'Well,—what thinken yo?' 'Well,' said th' doctor, 'he's ill enough, God knows, but it's no use givin' him physic,physic's no use,-keep him warm, and keep