HER wor plenty to tawk abaat at th' braikfast table, an' all sooarts o' guesses wor made as trick, but ov coorse we could'nt tell owt at wor sed, nobbut what th' lanlord repeated to us, an' aw thowt he lukt varry hard at us ivvery nah an' then as if he thowt it wor just possible we knew moor abaat it nor we felt inclined to tell, but that mud happen be all fancy, for we know'at a guilty conscience is sooin accused. In a while we wor left to ussen an' had time to think abaat ha to mak th' best use o' th' few haars at wor left us, for we'd made up us minds to goa hooam that neet. It wor a weet mornin but yet it wor a varry welcome change, for it made all feel nice an' fresh an' cooil. Billy wor quite lively an' he says, "Nah Sammy, whear are we to steer for to-day?"

"Awve just been readin this book," aw sed, "an' it tells me'at one o' th' mooast wonderful seets i' Payris is th' sewers."

"Sewers! what sewers?"

"Th' drains;—yo can travel varry near all under th' city ith' drains, an' aw think that's a thing'at we owt'nt to miss. Aw've travelled on th' undergraand railway but this'll be th' undergraand watterway.—What says ta?"

"Why as far as drains is consarned, awd rayther swallow hauf a duzzen nor be swallow'd bi one misen, an' as thas had me on th' watter an' sent me up to th' sky, an' trailed me ovver th' surface o' th' eearth in a foreign land, aw think awst do varry weel for one trip withaat gooin into th' bowels o' th' eearth."

"Well, aw hardly think its a thing likely to suit thi, but its just one o' them seets at aw dooant meean to miss, for aw wor allus ov a scientific turn o' mind, an' studyin th' results o' man's inginuity suits me; an' if tha likes to wait here wol aw get back or say whear aw can find thi at a sarten time, awl awther come back here or meet thi whear tha likes."

"Tha'rt varry kind Sammy, an' varry scientific too, noa daat; but all thy science is like thi beauty, for its all aght o' th' seet. Aw dooant like to run onny man daan, an' tha knows aw wod'nt hurt thi feelins, but aw must say'at aw nivver knew at it tuk onny science to mak a poverty-knocker; but aw defy yo to mak a brewer aght ov a chap at's born withaat it. Science is to brewin what a horse is to a cart, its what maks it goa, an' aw defy thee, or yor Mally awther, for that matter, to say at aw cannot mak a brewin goa as weel as onny man! soa shut up abaat science as long as tha lives!"

"Aw believe thi when tha says tha can mak a brewin goa, an' unless it wor a varry big en tha'd be able to do it withaat onnybody's help; but if tha thinks becoss a chap's a wayver'at he's nowt in his heead but weft an' warp, thar't varry mich mis-takken, for some o' th' cliverest chaps aw ivver met wor wayvers."

"Varry likely,—becoss tha's spent th' mooast o' thi time amang em, but if tha'd kept a beershop like yond o' mine at th' moor-end, tha'd ha met wi all sooarts o' fowk throo wayvers up to caah-jobbers, to say nowt abaat excisemen an' magistrates. Thy mind's like a three quarter loom, it can produce things up to a three quarter width an' noa moor, but mine's different, it'll wratch to ony width, an' when tha begins tawkin abaat science tha shows thi fooilishness;—net at aw meean to say tha'rt a fooil,—nowt o' th' sooart,—but aw think tha owt to be thankful to know'at tha arn'nt one, seein what a varry narrow escape tha's had."

"Billy,—if tha's getten thi praichin suit on an' fancies tha can tawk to me like tha tawks to yond swillguts'at tha meets at th' moor-end, thas made a mistak. Awm off to see th' sewers an' tha can awther come or stop as thas a mind."

"Come! ov coorse aw shall come! for if aw did'nt aw dooant think they'd ivver let thi come aght, for they'd varry likely think that wor th' fittest place for thi—mun they're far seein fowk abaat here."

"Well, aw think th' risk o' bein kept daan'll be doubled if tha gooas, but awm willin' to risk it."

"Does ta think thers onny risk on us gettin draanded?"

"They'll nivver be able to draand thee until tha gets some moor weight i' thi heead, soa tha'rt safe enuff."

"If that's soa, tha's noa need for a life belt, soa come on!"

We gat th' lanlord to write it on a piece a paper whear we wanted to goa, for we could'nt affoord to loise ony time, an' jumpin into a cab we wor driven off.

Nah, it'll saand strange to some fowk to hear tell abaat ridin throo a main sewer in a railway carriage, but its just as true as it is strange—th' carriages are nobbut little ens reight enuff, an' ther's noa engins, but ther's men to pool an' men to shov an' yo goa along varrv nicely—its like travellin throo a big railway tunnel nobbut ther's a river runnin along side on yo or under yo all th' way, an' net a varry nice en—but awm sewer awve seen th' Bradford beck as mucky an' as black. It wor leeted i' some pairts wi' gas, an' i' some pairts wi lamps an' th' names o' th' streets at yo wor passin under wor put up, an' nah an' then yo passed a boat wi men in it, an' ivverything luked wonderful but flaysome. Billy sed he thowt they made a mistak to charge fowk for gooin in, it ud be better to charge em for comin aght, an' aw wor foorced to agree wi him for once, for i' spite o' all ther ventilation, ther wor a sickenin sensation at aw should'nt care to have aboon once. Dayleet an' fresh air wor varry welcome when we gate into em agean, an' for all mi love o' science aw could'nt but admit'at ther wor seets at we'd missed'at awd rayther ha seen. If we'd been booath gooid

Templars it wod ha proved an' economical trip for we wanted noa dinner, but as we wornt, awm feeard it proved rayther expensive. Brandy at hauf a franc a glass caants up when yo get a duzzen or two, but ther wor nowt else for it at we could see, an' as we went hooam to pack up us bits o' duds aw discovered at things had getten a varry awkard way o' doublin thersen, an' Billy wanted to stand at ivvery street corner to sing 'Rule Brittania,' but we landed safely an' gate a cup o' teah an' that set us all straight agean. Th' train left for Calais at 8 o'clock, an' it tuk us all us time to settle up an' get us luggage to th' station. Th' landlord went part way wi us for he had to call to get a new lock an kay for his back door, for he'd a nooation'at his next door naybor's kay wod fit his lock, an it wod be varry awkward if they'd to mak a mistak some neet and get into th' wrang shop. Billy said he thowt soa too, an it wor varry wise to guard agean sich things i' time. Altho' we wor booath on us glad to turn us faces toward hooam yet we felt a regret to leave a place wi soa monny beauties, an' sich a lot'at we'd nivver had a chonce to see; for ther's noa denyin it—Natur an' art have done all they could to mak it th' finest city ith' world—It hasnt th' quiet classic beauty o' Edinbro', nor th' moil an' bustle o' Lundun, nor th' quiet sedate luk o' Dublin—nor can it compare wi some o' th' startlin featurs o' th' American cities, but its fresher an' leetsomer an' altogether moor perfect nor ony one on em. It seemed a long wearisom ride throo Payris to Calais an' it wor a miserable drizzlin neet when we gate thear an' we lost noa time i' gettin onto th' booat at wor waitin. What wor th' difference between furst class passengers an' third class we could'nt tell for all seemed to mix in amang. After a grunt or two we wor off, an' th' mooin peept aght o' th' claads as if to say 'gooid bye' an' wish us gooid luk—th' waves coom wi a swish an' a swash agean th' vessel's side, an' th' two electric lamps glared after us from th' shore like two big een, an' marked a path o' leet on th' watter for us to goa by. Th' neet cleared up, but it wor varry chill, an' Billy an' me stopt on th' deck all th' time. We had'nt a bit o' sickly feelin soa we could enjoy a smook an' luk abaat us. Mooast o' th' fowk wor asleep an' all wor quiet, an' nowt happened worth mentionin until dayleet showed us th' white cliffs o' old England.

It wor like as if it gave mi heart a bit ov a fillip an' aw felt aw mud awther aght wi' summat or aw should brust, for nivver did a child run to meet its mother wi' moor joyous heart nor aw had when drawn near mi native land—Billy wor capt when aw struck up—

They may say what they will, but no Englishman's

heart,

Whate'er his condition may be;

But feels a keen pang when he's forced to depart,

And a thrill when he comes back to thee.

For whatever thy faults, thou art dear to us all,

No matter what strange countries boast;

No blessings are there, that can ever compare;

With our home in thy sea-girdled coast.

Then here's to thyself, thou wee bonny land,

Here's a bumper, old England, to thee,

Brave sons and fair daughters shall join heart and

hand,

And sing "Ho, for the land of the free!"

If we grumble sometimes as all Englishmen will,

And in politics fight tooth and nail;

When hard times are pinching and trade standing still,

If at government's tactics we rail;

There's no rash outsider who dares interfere,

Or he'll find to his cost if he tries;

That our flag's independence to each one is dear,

For there's freedom where ever it flies.

Then here's to thyself, thou dearly loved land,

Here's a bumper, old England, to thee;

Dizzy, Gladstone and Bright in one theme can

unite

And sing, "Ho, for the land of the free!"

If the world's all upset, and war's terrors abound,

And tott'ring thrones threaten to fall;

Thy Lion on guard, keeps his watch all around,

And his growl gives a warning to all.

They have seen his mane bristle, and heard his deep

roar,

And his grip, once felt, none will forget;

And although he's grown older he's strong as of yore,

And he's king of the world even yet!

Then here's to thyself thou wee bonny land,

Here's a bumper, old England, to thee;

Thou hast nothing to fear, whilst our hearts hold

thee dear

Then "Hurrah! for the land of the free!"

We stept ashore an' th' train wor waitin. Dover wor a strange place to me but still it felt like hooam—aw gat into a comfortable carriage, lained mi heead back o' th' cushin an' when aw wakkened we wor at Lundun.

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