But, that worn’t all t’mistak at wor made; fer Bill Rollins bethowt him at he’d lost summat, but cudn’t tell fer his life what it wor. He groped his pockets, luk’d into his carpet beg, an’ studied fer aboon an haar; at last he pick’d it aght ’at it wor their Peg ’at he’d lost somewheer up on t’mahntens.

Well, as I wor tellin’ yu, we’d promenaded t’ gigantic hills an’ beautiful valleys, intermix’d wi’ ower-hingin’ peaks an’ romantic watter-falls which form part o’ t’grand Lake scenery of ahr English Switzerland to the delight of ivvery one o’ t’excursionists. T’day beginnin’ to advance, an’ “back agean” bein’ t’word i’ ivverybody’s maath, yu cud see t’fowk skippin’ ower t’Lake (“Home-ward bound,” as t’song says), some in a Indian canoe, some in a Venetian gondolier; owd Ben Rusher wor in a Chinese junk, somebody sed. But, haivver, hunderds mud be seen on board o’ t’steam yachts comin’ fra Newby Brig an’ Ambleside. Fra t’latter place t’steamer wor fair p. 83craaded wi’ foak, for i’ t’first class end ther wor Mr. an’ Mrs. Lund an’ their illustrious friends, Mr. Mann an’ staff wi’ a parson an’ four of his handsome dowters; at t’other end wor a German Band, some niggers, Jimmy Wright, jun., alias Jim o’ Peggy’s, wi’ a matter o’ one hunderd Ranters rhaand him. Jim wod hev his lip in; but he’s a rare chorus singer, there’s nowt abaght that; for, my word, t’strangers did praise him aboon a bit, an’ weel he desarved it, fer he gap’d like a young throstle, wal t’foak wor fair charm’d, an’ ’specially t’Germans an’ t’niggers ’at wor on deck, fer they’d nivver heeard onny chorus-singin’ afoar they heeard Jim strike up—

p. 83

We’re joyously sailin’ ower the lake, Bound fer t’opposite shore; An’ which o’ yu’s fooil enuff ta believe We sall nivver see land onny more.

Let the hurrican roar, Sall we ivver land onny more.

The skilful pilot’s at the wheel, An’ his mate is watchin’ near; So the captain shouts “Cheer up, mi lads, There’s nobody nowt to fear.”

Then let the hurrican roar, We sall reitch the opposite shore.

An’ summat abaght “the evergreen shore” he sang. But what wi’ t’beautiful landscapes on both sides o’ t’Lake, an’ t’recollections o’ Wordsworth, Wilson, Mrs. Hemans, Harriet Martineau, an’ other famous poets, painters, an’ authors, it threw one of our party into a kind o’ poetical mood—

p. 84For wal he stood upon the deck, He oft wor heeard to say, “I’d raither oomo to 

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