[Time, summer evening.-Scene, the old kitchen.Persons, SNAFFLE O' THATCHER'S and SAM, the landlord, smoking by the fire; BETTY, on the opposite side, knitting.]

RAND groo-weather, Sam."

"It's nought else. We'n the finest yarb (herb, grass) i' yon top meadow, this time, 'at ever I clapt een on!'

"Hast ony 'bacco?"

"Here; help thisel'. . . . Hasto sin owd Tharcake lately?"

"Ay; I're gooin' by th' dur tother neet, as he sit i'th' shippon, milkin', at th' edge o' dark, an' he code out, 'Now then, what's o' thi hurry? Han yo a labbor agate, or some'at? Come, keawer (cower) tho down a bit, an' let's have a conk!' So I geet my 'bacco' out, an' poo'd up a milkin'-stoo' an'

he ga' me a droight (draught) o' afterin's; an' theer we set, crackin' about owd times, till th' owl-leet had gone; an' then I nipt up, an' took my gate whoom, i'th' dark, o'er th' knowe, an' across th' Thisley Feelt,' an' just afore I coom to 'Th' Pedler's Nook, down i'th' 'Fir Grove,' as sure as I'm a livin mon, I oather see'd Clegg Ho' Boggart or the dule his-sel'!"

"It'd be th' latter chap, I dar say. He's bin a good deeol upo' yo'r side lately. But, I tell tho what, Snaffle; thou'rt terribly gan to boggarts. How is it?"

"Oh, thou'd be so, too, if thou'd bin brought up amung 'em, th' same as I have. I guess thou never sees noan ?"

Well,-yigh-I catch't one, once; an' that's moore nor ever thou did, I think." "Nawe; I never did. I matter havin' nought to do wi' 'em. If they'n keep off me, I'll keep off thame."

"Well, but I tell tho' I catch't this, one dark neet, bi th' scuft o' th' neck, an' I warm't it shins for it, an' then I took it bi th' slack o 'th' breeches, an' chuck't it into th' poand an' I never see'd a boggart swim better than that swam i'o' my born days! An', mindto it took care to lond o' th' fur side fro' me;

an' as soon as ever it coom to a bit o' dry lond, it just ga' one look back, an' then it

played for another township, as hard as it could pelt; and thou may make thisel' sure about one thing, owd lad-that boggart's never bin back into this quarter sin' then."

"Oh, never tell me! It's noan bin o' th' same breed as they are our gate on, or else, bi th' heart, it'd ha' ta'en thee,—an' it'd ha' come'd back for moore."

"Well, I don't know. But I can tell tho what breed this wur, to a yure. It're Bill o' Pobs 'at had bin playin' his marlocks, neet after neet, about th' shippon, yon, till I couldn't get one of our folk to goo out after dark. But, I laid that boggart, for one; an' th' next time I leet on't, I'll lay it again,-if my shoon stops on!"

"Bill o' Pobs! oh, go look! I could lay hauve-a-dozen sich as him, mysel'! I'm noan fleyed of nought 'ats gradely wick; but it's th' tother mak at gets o'er me. Mon, we noather known where they come'n fro', nor what they wanten, nor what they're made on."

"Mostly moonshine, owd lad, I think."

"Well,-thou may think so; but, it's a mak' o' moonshine 'at doesn't agree wi' me.” "But that wur noan made o' moonshine that I catch't, tother neet."

"Nawe, it weren't. But that's noather here nor theer. Sitho, Sam; noather thee

nor me knows what there is, an' what there isn't, between this world an' th' next. It's my opinion

"Here; howd te din! Sitho, Snaffle; if thy opinion wur a bit o' papper, I'd leet my pipe wi't,-th' same as I'm doin' wi' this. Thou's bin born under a knockykneed planet o' some mak. Let's drop it. It's no use talkin'. .. Well; what's good wi' owd Tharcake?"

"I guess thou's yerd that his faither's deeod?"

"Oh, ay. But what he'd getten to good age. What, he'd be close upo' ninety." 'Ay; o' out."

"Ay, well; deein's no trouble to a mon at that time o' life. . . . Ay, ay; they keepen droppin' off, an' comin' on',-droppin off, an' comin' on. It's once a-piece for us, o' round. It'll be our kale (turn) in a bit, Snaffle.”

"I guess it will. I can reckon about hauve-a-dozen 'at's dee'd upo' th' moorside within three week, There's Splash,' an' 'Kempy,' an' 'Dick-in-a-minute,'—as likely a mon as ever stept shoe-leather,-an' there's Thrutcher,"

"Howd, stop! Thou may chalk 'Thrutcher' off! He's wick an' hearty! It's nobbut three days sin I sowd him a pig!"

"Sam; thou'rt wrang this time, if thou

never wur i' thi life afore. I tell tho he dee’d three week sin'; an' I wur axed to th' berrin', but I couldn't goo."

"Weil, an' I tell tho, I wur axed to th' berrin',-an' I did goo. But it's nobbut three days sin' I sowd him a pig, for o' that!" Sam; thou'rt lyin', belike."

"Snaffle: I never spoke a truer word sin' I'd a tung i' my yed. Ax our Betty."

'Ay," said Betty; "it's true, for sure.” "Betty," said Snaffle, “I can believe yo,—as a general thing,—but yo'n ta'en me bi th' face this time, both on yo! Here, Sam; there's some'at at th' back o' this! Come, let me into th' inseet on't, afore we gone ony fur,— for I begin o' feelin' quare i' my yed!"

"That's nought fresh," said Sam. "But, come, if thou'll howd together a twothre minutes I'll tell tho how it wur. It wur a strange dooment,-there's no doubt about that. . . . Well, thou knows, I'd yerd on him bein' laid up, but I're fair gloppen't when they coom round a-laithin' to his berrin'. But, I thought I couldn't do less than goo an' see th' end o' th' owd brid, as him an' me had bin schoo' lads together; so, when th' time coom, I donned th' black 'at I geet when my faither dee'd, an' off I set. When I geet theer, I fund th' house full o' relations, an' owd friends, donned i' sad-colour't clooas, an' o'