ta-il atween's lei-gs. An' a chap i' front
o' Ship Inn, he hollers, "Why, Master
Owen, an' what's oop wi' ye?"
owd Willy he said niver a wor-rd.

But

I says to Liz, says I to she, "Power owd Willy! He's met misfortin'." An' so he had. He'd gone out, an' he'd

met misfortin'.

(Ann weeps).
LADY. Ah!

LIZ (sitting bolt upright). Well, ye see, Mrs. Roundill, ye remembers a tryin' hard, days an' days, t' mak' matters oop atween us lads an' lasses, an' owd Sally Watkinson as was that unknowin' as t' git wed wi' Dick Ruddock. Ah! They tuk post-office awa' till he, an' (with the utmost contempt) to wed wi' he niver held oop's head no mo-re. He Dick Ruddock, as was nowt but a runty 6 lodged i'a hoose thrae do-ors above t't' look at, an' a barfootheaded' chap office whaur he'd been maister all them an' a', an' had niver been nowt but a year-es. An' he lodged there fower shackback! 8 months. An' then one afternoon owd Willy reconcile you all to Sally Watkinson, sa-id, “I'll jist dee."

An' he went intil chamber,1 an' he lai-id him doon, an' he dee-ed. An' a' thattens was t' end o' power owd Willy Owen.

JOHN CAMMISH'S CURE. LIZ. An' how's Mrs. Storey ? LADY. Not very well. She has become so very large, and we think she is gouty. Her legs pain her, and we fear she may have rheumatic gout.

LIZ (leaning forward). Ah, Mrs. Roundill, ye may depend on't 'tis t' watter in her. I (this with great pride), I has t' rheumatic gout! Look ye at ma fingers, a' twested oop! Look ye at ma fut! I canna get on no-a bo-oo-ts, nobbut slip shoes.2 But I'm none loosty. Folk ud rayther say I'se welly clemmed. Na, it's ta watter that's in her. (Liz leans back expectantly).

3

LADY. Ah!

LIZ (with energy). I've not a drap o' watter i' my body! I'm jist a ravellin'! 5

LADY. Ah! (after a pause). And what would you advise?

LIZ (after a very long pause). There's a mony o' th' folk here as ta-aks ivery day a loomp o' saltpatre i' their tay. That suit-es them as isn't gone beyont it. But (pause), I shud advoise

ANN (eagerly). T' be-an!

LIZ (severely). Ann! I'm the sufferer! I puffictly thinks scorn on ye, Ann! an' that I dew!

LADY. Yes, Liz, I did try hard to

she that married Dick Ruddock. The poor old lady was sorry that her husband had spent all the money that ought to have come to you, and she was so ill, and so very poor.

LIZ (majestically). She was wed to he, an' she didn't ought to ha' wedded a' thattens. She knawed t' brass was boun' to go. An' it did, an' t' sulver spu-uns an' a'. Dick Ruddock was no-an Jacob, spite of his havin' been v'yges an' his Bible readin'. Not he! LADY. I do not understand what you mean about Jacob. Liz (amazed). An' yew wi' twa grandmithers, an' feyther, an' mither! I canna thenk it. Why, ye knows as Jacob went fra hame wi' nobbut a stick. An' he cam' back wi' twa woife, childer, jackass, an' stoof! Look till Jacob, an' thenk on Dick Ruddock!

LADY. But had poor Sally a hard life up to the last? I hope not, but she seemed so very poor.

LIZ (triumphantly). I do-ant knaw. But I knaw this, she de-ed in 's boots! LADY. Oh, Liz! you shouldn't say that. Pray don't say it.

LIZ. I do-ant say she de-ed on t' gibbet, but for a' that she de-ed in 's boots. She jist fell doon one day, de-ad. An' I niver went t' see her, as ye knaws, Mrs. Roundill, as I'd 'a made a pint o' doin' - What's thee at, Ann? (angrily). We do-ant dee in oor boots, Watkinsons doesn't!

Runty. Short from ryndel, a little heap. — Danish.

7 Bald.

8 Shackback, a roving character. - Danish. Household goods.

(Ann weeps).

LADY. Oh, but Liz, I did hope that you would have gone to see her. Don't you remember that One came to seek and to save that which was lost?

LIZ (indignantly). I go to seek Sally Ruddock! When she'd takken awa' till Dick Ruddock t' brass an' t' sulver spu-uns!

Nobbut I ho-ap she's none lost. Mrs. Roundill, it's not for us to try t' do th' wark o' Thems that's on high. They seeks, an' They saves, an' I doan't believe as I'm lost. Mebbe They'll find Sally, spite o' bein' wed till Ruddock. For she were born Watkinson. They'll find her, an' They'll save her. It's none o' my wark. But I'll ho-ap as they'll find her, an' that I will. An' that's all as I can dew, an' that I tells yew, Mrs. Roundill.

LADY. I am so glad that you can speak kindly of her, Liz. I know you felt sorry for her.

Liz (after a pause). Well, it was a' thissens. Sally Ruddock's nevvy was John Cammish as leeved i' Griseby till he flitted hisself till Scalethorpes. An' we knawed he verra well. An' Mary Cammish, she's a worry woman.2 An' one day we heared as John were verra bad, an' as t' doctor had gave him a' t' stoof outena's shop, an' as it were a' va-in. An' at fower o'clock afternoon t' doctor had sa-id, "John Cammish, I moost tell 'ee thou'llt be de-ad at fower o'clock morn."

An' John Cammish sa-id, "Art sartain sure, doctor? For it'll be flowin' watters i' th' morn.' 8 An' t' doctor sa-id, "It is so, John, an' good-bye." An' John said, "Good-bye, sir, an' I thenk ye kindly, an' coom agen i' th' morn to see me. It 'ud be a comfort till me leevin' or de-ad, an' ye'll promise that." An' t' doctor sa-id, "I'll promise thee that, John Cammish."

An' John's oldest son cam' int'

LIZ. Well, mebbe I did, but I'd not Griseby, an' he sa-id till Ann an' me, go to see her de-ad. No, Ann! (this" Noo, Watkinson's lasses, which on with great energy). Thou knaws I would ye 'll coom oot to see feyther?" An' I not. Ann went, Mrs. Roundill, but sa-id, "I'll coom, an' I'll tak' Kitty yew knaws she's a bit saft an' tender. Richardson along." She'd lost her son Ann's no-an stunt.1 I niver e'en lookt of la-ate, an' she wanted to ax of John at buryin'. Niver e'en turned ma Cammish to tak' a message till he. An’ thowt till winder, though t' power owd whan we cam' t' hoose, John Camlass leeved jist opposite. Mrs. Roundill mish's woife she cam' int' hoose-place,* (with immense dignity), I sat in t' back an' Kitty Richardson says, "Mary Camchamber. mish, I hear tha husband's boun' to LADY. But, Liz, you know where dee, an' whan he gets to heaven I'll Sally is buried?

Liz (warmly). An' that I dew. An' Ann an' t' lads towld me it were a verra power buryin'. They wadna walk i' th' funeral train, o' coorse they wadna, but they looked, an' they looked, to be sure to knaw t'pla-ace. All on us wanted to be sure t' knaw that pla-ace, 'cause Watkinsons maun rise together on Judgment Day, an' meet i' Resurrection. Well, an' a' t' brass as Sally had she left till a wumman as tuk care on her. An' what thenk ye o' that,

Mrs. Roundill?

LADY. Perhaps she had not much to leave. But, Liz, I want to hear about the cure for Mrs. Storey.

1 Stunt, obstinate. - Danish.

ax him to give a message to my Tam Richardson." An' Mary Cammish she ups an' she says, "Kitty Richardson, don ye thenk my John Cammish has nobbut to do i' heaven but to scootle 5 oop an' doon on messages for yow-er folk!" An' Kitty she turned an' went. An' I wass sorry for she. Her had counted on that message.

But Mary Cammish she sa-id till me, "Thou 'llt see John Cammish. I canna mak' him oot." An' I said, Mary Cammish, I will.”

66

66

3

So, Mrs. Roundill, I saw John Cam- | he, an' it wass roight, "John, my mish, an' John towld me as t' doctor de-ar, it has pleased Them above to had said he moost dee at fower i' th' mak' o' thee a power innicent, but morn. An' John had ca-aed a' th' niver fret thee, John Cammish, I'll look fam❜ly aroun', an' they was all a cryin' to thee." But John, he says, Mary an' a sobbin'. An' I sa-id, "Well, Cammish, I want t' liquor." An' she John Cammish, an' how's a wi' thee?" says, John, gin that's sae, I'll bile t' An' John sa-id, "I'se welly bad, Liz pot anew. But t' doctor says thee canst Watkinson, but I'm no-an de-ad." An' not leeve, an' thou 'st as big 's foive. I said, "That's well sa-id, John Cam- Doant thee dee in pa-ain an' strainin', mish." An' John sa-id, "But Mary my de-ar." An' John Cammish says an' bairns, whativer will they dew? qui-et slow an' quite, "Woife, gen me They'll jist clem."1 An' John was t' moog, an' bile t' liquor." verra pitifu'. An' Mary Cammish she sa-id, "Niver heed, John. Nobbut get thee de-ad, an' we'll fettle 2 for oursel'." For she wanted to comfort John Cammish, an' to settle he's moind.

An' John Cammish lay. An' bymeby he ca-aed to 's oldest son, an' he says till he, "Johnny lad, stop thou cryin', an' hearken till me. Goo thee oop t' croft whaur there's t' beck, an' bring me back t' be-an o' t' bre-am. Goo, an' loosena thoi toime."

Sa Johnny went, an' he pluckt oop t' be-an, an' he broughtena 't back, a grait loomp o' be-an. An' Johnny sa-id, Feyther, I'se broughten ye t' be-an." An' John Cammish says till 's woife, "Woife, ye'll jist bile of it an' bile of it, an' then I'll drenk o' t' liquor."

Well, Mrs. Roundill, Mary Cammish biled of it an' biled of it till it cam' joost to a liquor, an' then she broughten on't t' bedside wi' a moog for John Cammish to drenk o't. An' John sa-id, "Thou maun bile anither grait loomp o' be-an." An' Mary Cammish ups and says till

An' John drenk an' drenk o' t' liquor. An' John said, "I'se leevin'. I'se boun't' leeve."

An' t' doctor cam' i' morn. An' t' doctor sa-id," John Cammish, whatna's coom to thee thou'rt live! Whatna been'st doin'? thou'st gone quiet sma’. I thowt to see thee de-ad, but I'm main glad to see thou'rt live." An' John sa-id, "Well, doctor, I'se glad to see thee, for I am live, an' boun' t' leeve." An' t' doctor sa-id, "John Cammish, there's no-an more glad than I." they shuk han's, they did. An' John Cammish is leevin' yet!

An'

LADY. And how can one find the bean? Is it the bulrush ?

Liz and ANN together. No-thing o'

th' sort!

be able to grow straight on without rest, but in some cases the exposure to the glare of the arc light killed them. We do not know whether the electric light will come into extensive use in growing flowers, but

ELECTRO-HORTICULTURE.— This barbarous term denotes growing flowers by the electric light. About ten years ago Siemens called attention to the effect of the electric light on plants. Most elaborate experiments have been made at Cornell it certainly opens up a vista of possibilities University, but the results are a little conflicting. The electric light at night in conjunction with sunlight during the day produces a sort of vegetable precocity which is not necessarily hurtful. Plants seem to

to scientific horticulturists and fanciers of orchids. It would be interesting to know if there is any vegetation near the Liberty statue; and, if so, how it is affected by the glare. Industries.

V. DAY AND NIGHT IN THE GUIANA FOREST, Longman's Magazine,
VI. NOTES AT A GERMAN BATH,
VII. THE RAT-CATCHER of Hameln,

621

Gentleman's Magazine,

Blackwood's Magazine,

639

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Yet past the fog-curtain, I know it for cer- Keen is the autumn wind, and dim and cold