ETER,—that wor th' name'at this stooan mason had been kursened,—agreed to spend th' rest o' th' afternooin an' neet wi us, an' show us what he could. Aw had'nt forgetten seein th' monument at th' time awd had a dust wi th' Frenchman, an' soa aw propooased we should goa thear furst, an' we did—at th' furst seet it reminded me o' th' monument o' London, but it proved to be summat far hansomer, for it wor th' Vendome column. Awd read abaat it befoor an' knew all abaat th' silly lumpheeads'at spent days o' labor to pool it daan, as if bi destroyin that they could blot aght th' memory o' th' man it wor raised to honor; whearas if it wor possible to sweep ivvery stick an stooan'at forms ther splendid city, off th' face o' th' eearth, an' leeav nowt but a barran tract o' land in its place, noa pilgrim wanderin ovver it but what wod find his thowts circlin raand th' memory ov Napoleon. All honour to them, who while strivin to wrest an empire from his successor's grasp, raised once agean this monument to his fame.

It ud be wearisome if awd to attempt to describe all th' grand buildings, statys, faantens an' churches'at we passed—Peter wor ivvedently at hooam, an' could show us moor i' hauf a day nor we should ha seen in a wick—Just a passing word abaat one an' then awl leeav writin abaat what yo can read abaat i' scoors o' books beside this, an' give an idea or two abaat things'at other writers awther havnt seen or darnt tell. La Madaleine,—that's th' name ov a church—but it does'nt luk a bit like a church, its far moor like St. George's Hall at Liverpool, but ther's summat far grander abaat it. It wor oppen free, an' we went in. Inside it lukt as Billy sed, 'far moor like a gurt cungerin show nor a church,' but ther wor noa mistak abaat its beauty. Ther wor a gooid lot o' fowk in, mooastly strangers like ussen, but here an' thear wor one'at seemed to have moor serious business on hand. Unless ther's moor virtue in a candle nor aw think ther is, ther's a fearful waste o' wax gooas on i' that spot, for ther wor scoors burnin, net to give leet, that awm certain.—Peter sed it wor a custom wi em to burn a lot o' candles after th' deeath o' onybody, soa as to leet ther soul into th' next world,—aw dooant think it does ony harm, an' if it satisfies em, its as weel to say nowt abaat it, but when my time comes aw hooap ther'll be a breeter way to show me th' rooad nor what them candles seemed to give. Although they let yo in for nowt, yo'd hard wark to get aght withaat payin summat, but we did manage it, an' felt better suited wi ussen,—net'at we wor too meean to pairt wi a copper or two for th' seet wor worth it, but becoss we did'nt agree wi th' principle on it.

Another wonder worth mentionin, is th' New Grand Opera House, but altho' it did cost a million paands sterlin it ud be as mich as mi heead wor worth, if awd to say at it wor owt fit to be compared wi th' New Grand Opera house they've built i' Leeds, becoss ther nivver wor sich a place as that, accordin to all accaants, an' if th' architect should ivver 'shuffle off this mortal coil,' aw hooap they'll put him in a bottle, an' set him up ith' Philosophical Museum as a new curiosity, for ther's nivver been owt fresh put in sin aw wor a lad, an' that's a year or two sin—th' last time aw wor thear aw thowt th' mumny lukt fair looansome. It's a pity at th' Grand Opera Haase i' Payris doesnt pay, but what it falls short, th' government maks up, an' its to be hooaped'at if th' Leeds "Grand" does'nt pay'at th' Corporation'll suppooart it aght o' th' rates—for awm gien to understand at it wor nivver built wi th' idea o' makkin a profit aght on it, but nobbut to elevate th' public taste, tho' they tak gooid care'at yo get noa taste 0' th' elevation unless yo pay to go in. When aw read th' Leeds Mercury, (aw allusread all th' theatrical news i' their paper,) an' saw all they had to say abaat it, it reminded me ov a chap aw knew'at lived at Halifax, an' when ivver ony friend called to see him, he used to delight i' marchin em abaat th' taan to show em th' wonders, (an' ther is some wonders i' Halifax, ther's noa denyin that;—an' to me th' biggest wonder ov all is at th' taan's thear at all,) but he allusfinished off wi takkin em daan bi th' old church to have a luk at Beacon Hill—"Nah then," he'd say, "what does ta think abaat that for a hill? Th' sun has his wark to get ovver that i' daycent time in a mornin tha can bet!" An' if th' chap he's showin it too should happen to say'at 'he'd seen hills ten times as big,' he'd shak his heead an' say—"Awve heeard fowk tawk like that befoor; but it's th' biggest hill awve ivver seen, an' it'll be time enuff for me to believe ther's a bigger when aw find one; but inasmich as he's nivver been monny yards away throo hooam he believes'at Beacon hill is th' biggest hill yet."

Peter propooased nah at we should have a carriage as it ud help us to see a varry deeal moor nor we should be able to do, if we depended o' shanks gallowy, soa we agreed, an' wor sooin seeated be-hund a pair o' spankin greys—"Cannot yo drive us to some brewery?" sed Billy, "aw mak nowt o' com-min here unless aw can leearn summat."

"There are breweries here, plenty of them, but not the class you want to see, they call them Brasseries, but they are in reality places for drinking beer, and not for making it."

"Well, neer heed, lets goa, for aw should feel shamed o' misen if awd to goa back hooam withaat leearnin summat abaat th' trade, an' when awm called on at th' next annywel vitlers dinner, to mak a speech, it'll nooan mak a bad start to say 'th' last time'at aw wor i' Payris &c.,' an' it'll mak some on em oppen ther een'at fancies coss a chap lives at th' moor end'at he's foorced to be a fooil. Aw wor allusov an enquirin turn o' mind Mr. Peter, an' ther's Sammy thear, he luks as big a cauf heead as yo'll meet wi in a day's march, but them at taks him for a fooil mak a mistak, aw should nooan ha browt him wi me on a journey like this if aw had'nt thowt summat abaat him."

"Aw did'nt know'at tha had browt me," aw sed, "it wor me'at axd thee to coom if aw ammot mich mistakken.",

"Awm nooan baan to fratch abaat it mun, if tha says a thing tha'll stick to it aw know that, an' if ther's ony credit tha'll awther have it or swelt—but aw wonder whear tha'd ha been if it had'nt been for me—tha'd ha been lockt up for riteous conduct ith' street Mr. Peter knows that; by th' heart! but this is a queer lukkin neighborhooid yo're takken us into—Aw dooant like th' luk o' some o' theas fowk—aw nivver saw sich a cutthroit lukkin lot i' mi life! Awm nooan soa varry particular abaat gooin to see th' breweries; if yo think ther's ony danger, let's goa back;—net at it matters for me for awm a single chap, but Sammy's left a wife at hooam an' its her awm thinkin on."

"Thee think o' thisen an' thi mother, an' leeav Mally to me—but if tha'rt beginnin to duff tha'd better get aght an leeav it to Peter an' Sammywell! if it worn't for thi age and respect aw have for thi family awd pitch thi cleean aght o' th' cab! Duffin! nah Mr. Peter awl put it to yo do yo think its likely,'at a chap what's kept a beer-haase at th' moorend all th' years'at awve done, whear thers been as monny as three or four rows in a wick, some wicks;—tho' aw alluskept a orderly haase, perleece'll tell yo soa if yo ax em,—an aw've seen chaps brayin one another to bits ommost, an awve nivver stirred aght o' mi cheer,—nah, do yo think aw should be likely to duff?"

"Your courage will not be called into requisition, so you need not be at all alarmed. This leads us to the Quartier Latin, let us get down here and try this."

It wor commin dusk an th' lamps wor bein leeted ith' streets, but inside all wor a blaze wi leet. It wor a big, rayther low raam, gay wi gold an colours an lukken glasses, an supported with a lot o' thin pillars covered up hawfway wi crimson velvet—seeats covered wi th' same stuff went all raand th' sides an' th' floor wor covered wi little marble tables, an stooils wi velvet tops, an altogether, th' place lukt varry grand an hardly seemed suitable for th' company at wor thear, for altho' they didn't luk like workin men, ther wor an untidy, unweshed, unkempt look abaat em'at aw hadn't noaticed in ony other lot. Peter gave th' order an in a minit a young woman, donned up like a playacter coom wi three bottles o' beer, an six glasses. Shoo put em all daan an Peter paid, an in a twinklin th' six glasses were filled, two moor lasses at didn't wear sleeves i' ther gaaons, but hung em on wi two narrow shoulder straps, an wi skirts made that length wol yo didn't need to wonder whether they wore garters or not,—coom an smiled an each takkin a glass, popt it off at one swig, (an they held a gill,) an filled em up agean, (for all bottles thear hold three gills) an withaat waitin to tak ther breeath, sent th' second to see after th' first, wiped ther lips an lukt as dry as if they hadn't tasted for a month. Th' empty bottles an glasses wor takken away, an wi a smile an a wave o' ther hand they went to attend to somdy else, leeavin us to sit as long ovver awr glass as we'd amind. Peter said we were too sooin to see th' place at its. best,—which meeans at its warst,—but he tell'd us at th' customers wor mooastly artists an students, an theas wimmen wor dressed up i' sich fantastic style to draw fowk thear, an it wor ther principal duty to get off as mich drink as they could, an at from 12 at nooin to 1 next mornin they oft took more nor 100 glasses o' beer, to say nowt abaat th' glasses o' liquors an wines they had in between. It wor hard to believe it, but after watching em for abaat an haar, aw could ha believed it if he'd sed 200, for we wornt moor nor an haar ith place, an aw saw one lass, net moor nor 20 year old, drink 15 glasses o' beer, one o' coffee and brandy, an one wine, an when we left shoo seemed as reight as if shoo hadn't had aboon twopenoth. After each glass shoo ate a couple o' shrimps aw suppooas to mak her thirsty for th' next. Peter sed they seldom lasted moor nor four years, for if it didn't kill em it awther made em bloated an ugly or browt on some disease, but wol they lasted they could mak throo 200 to 400 pounds a year, an during that time they wor generally living wi some student or artist as his mistress, an givin him all shoo could get, i' return for which, as sooin as shoo could hold her situation noa longer, he turned her into th' street, to add one moor to that swarm, estimated at 30,000 women, at live i' that fair, gay and fashionable city called Payris, by prostitution ov th' worse sooart, an this 30,000 doesn't include some thaasands moor, who carry on th' same trade, under th' sanction an protection ov ther government. Yo'll feel inclined to say, "Well, Sammy, we've heeard enuff o' that,—tell us summat else."

"Aw wish aw could tell yo summat else, an paint yo a true pictur, withaat havin to drag in that spectre,'at i ivvery guise o' revoltin ugliness, an heavenly beauty, haunts church, street, cafe, garden, river, and even holds its revel alike in th' perfumed chaymer, surrounded wi youth an innocence, an' in th' pestiferous stinkin den whear vice is life, and virtue all unknown. Noa wonder'at ther's a free exhibition at th' Morgue ivvery day, an "One more unfortunate" sleepin her long last sleep on that drippin stooan, all unconscious ov th' curious crowd at see in her limp limbs, an distorted face nowt moor nor a spectacle provided bi a thowtful government for their entertainment, but fail to leearn th' lesson'at it owt to taich."

France has her warriors,—her statesmen, an' her poets! Has'nt shoo one man, with a voice at can ring throo her fair cities—her vineyards, an' her lovely hamlets; at will raise it to rid her o' th' biggest curse under which a nation can grooan. Shoo's safer wi a thaasand invadin armies hemmin her raand, nor wi that enemy gnawin away at th' vitals ov her heart.

When we left th' brewery we had a drive up an' daan th' principal boulevards, an' it wor a treeat an' noa mistak. Th' mooin wor as breet varry near as a sun, an' th' gas lamps lukt to burn wi a yallo blaze at shed noa leet. Th' trees sparkled as they shook ther leaves an' th' buildins stood aght agean th' breet blue sky as if they'd been cut aght o' cleean card-booard. Men sauntered along puffin ther cigerettes, or set ith' front o' one o' th' cafes, en-joyin th' luxary o' havin nowt to do, an' knowin ha to do it. It wodn't interest yo to tell yo whear we went; for yo'at nivver wor thear ud be noa wiser an' yo at have been can tell for yorsen. It wor a long drive, an' we stopt at last at th' Arc de Triomphe de L'Etoile an' aw should think ther isnt sich another seet ith' world. Payris appears to lay at yor feet, an' strings o' gas leets mark aght ivvery principal street. Billy could'nt find words to express hissen, all he could get off wor, "E'e, gow! Sammy! E'e gow! By gum mun! A'a mun!"

It wor one o' them things whear yo could'nt help onybody: Aw did think'at Billy wor a bigger fooil nor me, but awm foorced to own'at he could describe it just as weel as me, for aw kept tryin to remember what awd leearnd aght o' th' bookshunary soas aw could say summat, but it wor noa use, aw could nobbut stare an' ax misen, in a whisper, whether aw wor i' this world or th' next.

Payris wor asleep. That rattle an' clang'at had caused a hum to flooat ovver th' city wor silent.—Aw lost misen i' thowt:—aw didnt see a city;—aw saw a wood, an' mi fancy tuk me throo it; all th' singin birds had dropt ther songs an' wor nestlin' i' ther cosy hooams, but ther still wor some lukkin aght for what they could catch—owls,—human owls,—wor nobbut makkin a start. Aw've oft seen th' owl stuck up as a symbol o' wisdom, but aw could nivver understand it: an' aw should be thankful if one o' them cliver chaps'at know soa mich wod kindly point aght to me whear th' sense is, i' sittin an' blinkin all th' day, when th' sun is makkin ivverything lovely, an' turnin aght at neet when all is dark an' solemn, to drop onto some timid little maase at wod ha been aght i' th' daytime if it dar. Noa,—aw nawther see wisdom nor principle ith' owl. Gie me a lark'at shaks his wings as sooin as th' sun sends aght his furst pale ray as an agent i' advance to tell th' world he's gooin to show agean, an' starts towards heaven whear he hings, a dot agean a dull blue dome, an' pours his melody on an awakenin eearth, cheerin the sad an' addin' joy to them whose cup wor full exceptin for those drops ov harmony.

Ther's summat at feels heavy o' yor heart when a gurt, bustlin city is asleep,—when th' solitary cab rattles wi a peevish din along a silent street—an' th' quiet steady traid o' th' watchman saands like th' pulse-beeat ov a district lapt i' sleep. We made it up'at we wod have a nod neet aght an' see th' dark side as weel as th' breet. If awd been a praiche'r aw could ha fun plenty o' subjects for a sarmon as we wandered raand. Ommost all th' places wor shut up and nubdy seemed to be abaat.

As we slowly trampt along, nah an' then a—(what-do-yo-call-em, we call em Bobbies i' England,) passed us, or we passed him, but Peter sed a word or two an' we wornt interfered wi. We coom anent one grand place whear th' winders wor blazin wi leet an' we went in. It wor another o' them grand shops sich as we'd seen soa monny on, but all along one side wor little raams screened off, an' they called em Cabinet particulier an' we went into one;—ther's noa mistak abaat th' luxury an' beauty o' theas little places, but it doesnt tak th' e'e ov a hawk to see even moor in one nor they'd wish aghtsiders to believe. We had'nt been long an' th' waiter wor nobbut bringin us th' furst cup o' coffee when in coom two wimmen, (aw call em wimmen becoss they wor ith' shape on em,) but Peter gave em to understand'at we did'nt want to add to th' number o' th' compny.

We had a rest an' a smook an' then we started aght agean, we had'nt walked monny yards befoor we coom to another spot'oth' same sooart, an' we sat daan o' th' opposite side o' th' rooad to luk at what wor gooin on. Th' winders wor oppen an' th' leets wor up at full, an' th' saand o' what aw suppooas they meant for mewsic, coom aght o' th' oppen shutters—ther wor a rustlin ov a silk dress an' a grand lukkin lass fit for a duchess coom up to th' door, but th' chap at wor standin thear shoved her away as if shoo'd been a beggar—shoo stood for a minit or two lukkin up at whear th' saand coom throo an' then shoo walked away wipin her een wi her pocket hankerchy an' vanished. Aw felt as if aw could ha liked to goa an' try to comfort her a bit, an aw ommost felt sooary at Mally wornt thear, for aw know shoo can set onybody reight if onybody can, but Peter sed it wod be noa use for shoo wor varry likely lukkin for him who had promised to meet her an' had disappointed her—Just then a lad coom past sellin papers an' Peter bowt one; (Billy wod ha bowt one, but after lukkin at it he declared at th' fowk'at had printed it did'nt know ha to spell) an' after a bit he sed, (aw meean Peter,) "This is a sad case but only one of many such."

"What is it? aw says.

"Only an account of the finding of a body in the river to-day. A young and beautiful girl who ran away from home leaving parents, sisters, brothers and a lover and came to Paris, was admired, feted, courted and betrayed, and in the midst of her gaiety and dissipation was confronted by the honest-hearted suiter for her hand who had followed her, and remorse having mastered her infatuation, and despair overwhelmed her hopes she put an end to herself. Her body has been claimed by her friends;—it was at the Morgue to-day. It is almost an everyday story, but it is only an individual case of reaping the whirlwind when the seed has been so plentifully sown.

"Nature! impartial goddess!—never forgets her duties," sed Peter, braikin off throo what he'd been sayin, an' aw could'nt help thinkin ha mich beauty a chap loises, and what joys he misses wi liggin i' bed ov a neet—Reight enuff a chap cannot be up booath day an' neet, but its worth while for ony body to sacrifice a bit o' sleep nah an' then for th' sake o' seein what th' world luks like when its wakkenin. Th' sun wornt fairly up but yet it wor growin leet, an' we made another move; Billy an' me booath lukkin a bit solid owin to th' accaant he'd gien us aght o' th' paper, an' Billy says, "Lets goa back hooam; awm sick o' seein an' hearin soa mich abaat what owt'nt to be."

"Remember, Billy," aw says, "we munnot judge too hastily, becoss it's just likely'at luck may ha led us to see th! warst pairt an' th' better pairt is to come—Nivver let us condemn ony country or ony city—for what we may see in an' haar or two, for th' best fruit tree ith' world may have a rotten en on sometimes. But what's that row o' fowk abaat? They luk a queer lot! What does ta mak on em, Peter?"

"They are waiting for the superintendant who will be here shortly, but with their advent subsides another class that belong particularly to Paris; the rag pickers; we have not met them to-night for the streets we have been in are not those likely to yield them a harvest, but whilst we wait here I may as well tell you a few facts which I have gleaned since my arrival in the country. There is one wending his way homewards with a basket weighty with his gatherings of the night—let us speak to him, a few sous will amply repay him for his trouble and any time he may loose." Soa he stopt him an' he emptied his hamper, an' sich a lot o' stuff aw nivver saw befoor—aw dooant believe'at thers a beggar i' Yorksher'at ud bend his back to pick sich rubbish up.—Bits o' rooap, paper, cabbage leeavs, cigarettes, cigar stumps, booans, rags, crusts o' breead, an' some things'at aw should fancy ther wornt onybody but him'at had gethered em could give em a name. Billy's heart wor inclined to oppen—nay, it did oppen, an' he gave him a franc, an' when he gate it, th' tears rushed into his een an' altho' he wor a Frenchman his tongue wor useless for his heart wor soa heigh up in his throit'at he could'nt spaik, an' Billy lifted his fist an' sed, (but in a voice at wor varry shaky to say it belanged to Billy,) "Tak thi hook! if tha doesnt awl punce thi!" an' for th' next three minits he did nowt but blow his nooas an' complain abaat havin getten some dust in his e'e—A'a! he's nooan all guts isnt Billy! Aw believe after all'at he could'nt hold that heart o' his unless it wor in a big carcass.

We went then to see all this lot o' fowk at wor waitin for th' superintendant. They wor th' street sweepers, an' they wor just same as solgers, an' as th' word o' command wor gien they went off i' pairties o' four, an' started o' sweepin th' streets an' makkin all cleean an' tidy for them at had nobbut just gooan to bed, soas they could get up ith' mornin an' find th' city as trim an' tidy as they'd ivver seen it, an' nowt left for th' day-leet to show ov what had been done under th' gas-leet. Did yo ivver see a woman on a stage, donned up i' muslin, silver lace an' spangles, wi a painted face, her e'en made breet wi brandy,—her e'e-broos black wi charcoil or indyink,—her hands covered wi white kid gloves, an' her feet pinched into tiny slippers,—wol her legs wor padded to luk like what its just possible they may ha been once, an' covered wi silk stockins, an' nawther moor nor less nor an' angel withaat wings?—an' did yo ivver see th' same woman next mornin, when shoo's getten up aght o' bed an' left all her false ringlets o' th' dresser (if shoo has one,) when her paint is rubb'd off her cheeks, her red hands, hoofed an' scarred uncovered,—her ee'n heavy an' bleared,—her feet shoved into th' wrecks of a pair o' men's booits,—an' wi a thyble in her hand, an' a bit o' mail in a paper bag, as shoo gooas to wark to male a bit o' porrige for two or three squallin childer'at nivver knew ther father? If soa yo must ha been struck wi th' difference.

Well, thers just that much difference between what Payris is on th' surface an' what it is when yo goa below.

We went along an' Peter sed he'd like to show us ha fowk i' Payris lived an' give us an inseet into things at if they did us noa other gooid mud happen taich us economy, an' prove at it wornt allusthem fowk'at had th' mooast brass an' made th' mooast ov a spreead' at lived best.

"There's nothing thrown away in Paris," sed Peter, "excepting human life. The rag-picker with his basket and his crook is one of the most important personages in the city. The stumps of cigars and cigarettes are what form the snuff of the most fastidious men who indulge in the habit—the scraps of old paper are all utilised and every bit of rag is converted to good use—the garbage, consisting of outside leaves of cabbages, turnip tops and even rotten fruit serve as ingredients for soups sold in the inferior restaurants; but the bread perhaps is most remarkable,—private families and boarding houses throw out crusts which are merely stale; cafes have plenty of broken crusts and soiled bits, but although it is cast into the street it is all carefully collected and preserved and the very refuse which is cast into the street from the sumptuously furnished tables of aristocratic salons on the Rue de Rivoli will not unlikely reappear in another form on the same tables and be appreciated. Crusts of stale bread are collected by inferior bakers and are soaked and rebaked and served again as new bread in cheap restaurants, the small broken pieces are carefully collected and cut up into small dice and after undergoing some secret process are converted into those appetizing toasted chips which give such a relish to soup—but there is another class, much more objectionable, at least to our ideas,—the soiled and dirty scraps such as were to be found amongst the rubbish of the rag-picker's basket, are seldom or ever given to poultry or pigs as you would imagine, but undergo a process of cleaning and are then dried, pounded into crumbs and burnt upon greased tins until they become a rich brown, and of this bread dust, every restaurant, from the one where the members of the senate meet, to the one whose customers regard a dish of meat as an exceptional treat, keep a stock; your cutlet is made to look beautiful with it—ham, fowls, or baked meats all owe more or less of their attractiveness to the same source. This is no secret here, and just so long as the dish set before them is pleasing to the eye, and pleasant to the taste, they ask no questions nor trouble themselves to wonder of what it is composed. There is scarcely any part of any animal—ox, horse, dog, cat, sheep, goat, sparrow or frog that is not utilized and made to furnish savoury morsels for one class or other—the better portions of a beast naturally find their way to that portion of the city where money is most plentiful, but I do not think it is too much to say that had the English people the same knowledge that the French possess in culinary matters, that the quantity of meat and vegetable that is daily wasted at home would furnish food, both toothsome and wholesome, enough for every starving creature within its shores.

"Well, it may seem all reight to thee tha knows, to mak thi belly into a muck-middin, but for mi own pairt awd rayther have a rasher o' gooid hooam fed bacon an' a couple o' boiled eggs to mi braik-fast nor th' grandest lukkin dish o' chopt up offal tha could set befoor me, an' aw fancy Sammy's o' th' same opinion."

"Aw must say, Billy,'at aw had rayther sit daan to a bit o' summat gradely, an' as a rule aw like to know what it is awm aitin, yet it's happen nobbut th' result o' ignorance, an' we turn up us nooas at things simply becoss we've been towt noa better; but aw could do wi a bit ov a snack if aw had it,—what says ta Billy?"

"A bit ov a snack ud be noa use to me—aw could just do a quairt o' porrige an' milk to start wi, but awst be ommost tarrified aght o' mi wit o' touchin' owt nah. If we'd had ony sense we should ha browt summat wi us, an' aw should ha done but aw thowt aw wor commin wi a cliver chap'at knew summat, but aw find awve been mistaen."

"Eeah an' ther's somdy else been mistaen as weel as thee, for if awd known what a chuffin heead tha'd ha turned aght aw wod'nt ha been paid to come."

"Why dooant freeat Sammy, for it isnt variy likely 'at tha'll ivver be troubled wi onybody offerin to pay thee for owt unless it wor for keepin thi maath shut, an' if they'd start a subscription for that awd gie th' price ov a pint towards it misen."

Th' shops wor all oppenin nah, an' Peter tuk us into a place an' ordered braikfast, but altho' we wor ommost clammd, we booath felt a bit suspicious abaat what we should have set befoor us to ait; but when it coom in an' we saw a dish full o' ham steaks wi' fried eggs laid all raand em an' a looaf a breead abaat a yard long, an' cups o' coffee'at sent a smell like a garden o' pooaseys all throo th' place, all fear o' bein awther impooased on or pooisened left us, an' ther wornt a word spokken bi ony on us until Billy threw daan his knife an' fork an' sed, "Thear!"

We finished ommost as sooin as him an' Peter settled th' bill, an' as we walked aght we felt like men new made ovver agean, but we wor varry glad to get into a cab an' leet a cigar an' enjoy th' beautiful drive to us own lodgins. We went a long raand abaat way but it wor ommost all throo gardens or under trees, here an' thear we went throo a

Square an' stopt a minit to luk at a faantain, a moniment, or a wonderful buildin, or went a short distance along th' river's bank or made a cut throo a street, an' we'd noa time to do owt but admire all we saw, whether it wor natural or artificial an' th' impressions o' th' neet befoor seemed like ugly fancies at th' mornins flood o' beauty an' gaiety wor quickly sweepin away—Aw could'nt help but repeat,

"One little favour, O, 'Imperial France!

Still teach the world to cook, to dress, to dance,

Let, if thou wilt, thy boots and barbers roam,

But keep thy morals and thy creeds at home."

To say we'd been up all th' neet we did'nt feel varry weary nor sleepy an' after a gooid wesh an' a brush up we felt noa desire to goa to bed soa we sat daan at one o' th' little tables aghtside an called for a bottle o' Bordeaux, (we'd getten reight to like it) an' we tipt us cheers back, yankee fashion, an' amused ussen wi watchin fowk goa past. We sooin discovered at a cheap trip had just come in, an' as they went past wi ther boxes an' carpet bags Billy lained ovver to me an' he says, "What gawky chaps English fowk luk when they land here at furst; why, aw feel soa different sin aw coom to live i' Payris wol awm feeard they'll tak me for a born Frenchman when aw get back hooam."

"Tha's noa need," aw says, "they may tak thi to be a born summat at begins wi a F, but it will'nt be Frenchman!"

Peter had to leeav us nah, we wor varry sooary to pairt wi him, but he sed his business wod'nt allaa him to stop ony longer, soa we shook hands wi him an' thanked him for all his kindness, an' as he turned away he sed, "And be sure you remember me kindly to Mally."

This rayther knockt th' wind aght on me, an' Billy says, "Nah lad thart in for't, an' sarve thi reight! yond chap'll write off to yor Mally, an' tell her o' thi gooins on an' then tha'll get thi heead cooamd wi summat tha weeant like when tha gets hooam! Aw wod'nt be i' thy shoes for a trifle!"

"Well, if thers been owt wrang tha's been as deep ith' muck as aw've been ith' mire, soa tha can shut up!"

"Has ta ivver answered that letter shoo sent thi?"

"Noa, aw've nivver had a chonce but aw will do reight away an' then that'll happen ease her mind a bit, an' aw wod'nt cause a minit o' bother, if aw could help it for all aw can see."

"It's a pity tha doesnt try to mak her believe it."

"Aw do try, an' aw allusdid!"

"Eeah, aw meean its a pity tha art'nt moor successful."

"Thee mind thi own business, an' leeav me to mind mine!"

Aw felt it wor a waste o' time to tawk ony moor to him, soa aw left him to sit bi hissen wol aw went to write a letter to Mally. Aw did'nt goa wi a varry leet heart, net at aw cared owt abaat th' trubble, but aw wor fast what to say. To write th' plain trewth aw knew wod'nt do, an' to write what worn't true wor a thing aw wod'nt do, an' aw sat some time studdyin befoor aw made a start.

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