time; they felt the force of the words; having all, at one time or another, read The Man of Feeling.' Augustus' eyes, in looking around, met the eyes of Caroline, the lovely Carolinethey both blushed-he sighed he felt-not knowing how-a strange alteration had taken place with him, in the space of two hours; and though a Novice in the Art of Love, yet, having such an able teacher as Cupid, he made rapid progress. His eyes spoke that language, which lovers alone can construe into meaning. What a strange thing must Love be! May it be long reader, ere thou and I feel its sweet, tormenting power!

In relation to Charles, it is needless to say much of him, upon that head, as he was an adept in that Art, and happy in the presence of her whom he adored.

Silviana was much complimented on her skill in music, and by Charles and Edward was extolled as one perfectly mistress of all accomplishments, which render females, in High Life, so agreeable. Silviana received this (half flattery) with a modesty unparalleled, and countenance beaming with beauty and love, in union with her vermilion cheeks, painted by Dame Nature, set her off to the greatest and best advantage; appearing, like unto some Angelic Being sent from on high to set the world in a flame by her matchless charms. She again

resumed her vocal and instrumental airs in the remainder of the Pastoral.

Silviana again received the praises of the Hargraves', for her skill in music, and superior powers in singing. After one hour's conversation, they retired to rest.

CHAPTER XX.

JONNY'S TALE.-A POEM.

WESTMORLAND DIALECT.

I hev gittin sea menny subscribers, et I think I may varra weel effourd ta gie them summit extra-an I whoap et sum ea yee fine fowk will nit snaw up yer nouses, when ye cum ta our stand ta pick out ea bit o' meat. A lile bit o' Poetry mead be me, er sumboddy else, bet yeel mappen think ets "John ea Entaber."

Ya neet ye see,

I tewk't inta me heed,

Et I wad gang ta Kirby Stevven indeed;
Sic things I saw et roud, O deare me!
Stop whyle I tel't, I think et el cap ye.

I hed just gitten ta Sandwith hous,
Whore aw was still an quiet as a mous;
I was gaen owart brig, if I didn't see,
A man liggin et beck, up ta his ee.

Ses I, 'what ivver dea thear?'
He than began ta curs an swear;
An sed, 'me hat iv lost an tummilt in,
Ise sure ta droun fer I cannit swim.'

Note

rustie's.

wt no bad specimen of the dialect of us for ritten with wittle premeditation_ at the time part of this bo. wooninting- & uncorrected sent in a hence it appears rough & racy to add that this & all what follow is pure fuchon. stopper for there who can't writes.

J4 is

I would not give
without any foundation.
reedly,

(I forgat ta tell yee, et beck was out,
Whitch mead fowks cum a varst about;
Fowks et com fra Crosby, hed ta gang be Soulby,
This way indeed, tha wer fourct ta try.)
'Whya,' ses I, 'yee munnit lig thear man,
Er else yee'll droun, ets ten ta yan;
Be sharp an gie me hoad ea yer hand,
An I'll see if I cannit bring yee seaf ta land."

I gat hoad ev hes hand, an pou'd him out,
Sure nivver was sic a drucken lout;

He started ea cursin an spuin an swearin,
An et me began ea rivin an tearin,

A. Now there will be no

2

Langer of the water as a New Bridge is just now finished over Sanduath, & A the time? write there Notes & remarks (July 5-1835) ? see as I sit writing under our garden wallthe good townsfolk-drestin, their bestwalking down the fields to see it, such is

knovelty.

that way f know the Stop of there Booksells - as I knowr. & all comes from themthey would be willing it might come to me In Buggs Monthly Parcel - as I get books or any thing of that sortthe Shop of Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown, Green, & Long man. all one concern and if A should you ever James send me a Letter you might go to

el.

Ses I, 'yee nasty drucken beast,
Es that yer way ta pay me et last?
But nou I'll leave yee ta tak yer chance,'
He girnd et me, an his teeth did cranch.

Whea can this chap be? thout I,
As a fello com past, singin rete merrelee.
Et was just es was gaen up Rogesun paster,
That I met Mr. B-k, me ald skule maister.

Ses I, Ise cummin ta skule ta mourn,
Ta git my Grammer off, I will be sworn ;'
Ses he, Jack, thou may cum whenivver ta will,
Thou'll mappen, likely fin me et hyam still.'

I bad him 'gud neet' an on I went,
Ta borro sum buiks, me mind was bent;
Ea buiks I cud reed, byath neet an day,
Ive red manny an hour ev a neet away.

All'd brass et ivver I git tagidder,
I send it-stop, I'll tell yee whidder-
Tae Mister Briggs, et leeves et Applebie,
Ise speakin truth, an tellin nea lee.

He is a Printer, an a Buikseller,

An oft ta him I dea refer;

About me buiks-sic est "Penny Magazine,"
Ea whitch manny a picter may be seen.

An thears "Chambers' Edinburgh Journal,"
Ev buiks et ommest caps them all;
Sea mickle reedin, tae be sure!

Iv spent in et, manny an hour.

An "Ladies' Cabinet," tu beside,

Ev yee nobbet saw't, I think yee'd by't;

Sic curious Teals, "Eugene Walmer," mair,
Thear is et hes amus'd me sair.

O man! fer reedin buiks, I cap them aw,

Ise sic a lad es yee nivver saw!

When I fetch in sheep, I tak a buik ea me pocket,

Ise laft at be't lads, an be men ise mocked.

But I hev forgitten ta tell me stoury out,
strange Poet! ta be a Butcher's scout;

A

I gat ta Kirby Stevven, varra weel,

An nout particular did I feel.

14

This Kirby, et es a strange, queer Toun,

Et hods manny a blackgard, an manny a cloun;
For aw tha run me down sea mickle,

Thear's mear than me likes podish an treacle.

Tha say ise 'gean quite rang ea me heed,'
Tha bleam 't old ketty buiks' et I hev red;
Praia tell nea boddy ea what iv sed,
Iv gitten fra Kirby—I'll gang ta bed.

An seaGud Neet."

CHIT CHAT IN LOW LIFE:

OR,

A DIALOOUE BETWEEN JACK AND BOB.

Being a specimen of Rustic Humour.'

I'll let yee hear how I whyles tauk,
Byath amang ersells, an other fowk.

When ise tellin a stoury, I like ta begin et boddem, an end et end. Wie this prefeace I'll sa nea mair, bet gang forward.

I weel remember, et was ya mournin, about six a'clok ea summer, et I was sleepin an snourin ea bed, (ea me lile room) dreamin a varra queer dream, when I was wakken'd be a queer noise; bet afour I tell yee'd resen et noise, yee sal hear me dream. I thout I was stanin ea Kirby Stevven market-pleace, agayn'd cloisters, an thear was a seal, ev a vast ea things, an amang'd rest, sum buiks (yee knoa Ise as fond ea them as me frind Jemmy Twitcher). I thout et Octioneer pot them up fer ta sell, an varra fine ens, an varra curious, whitch mead me all ev a tremle ta by them. Fowks bad, an bad, an bad agayn; thout I, Jon thou mun be sharp er thou'll mis them, an I bid "anudder penny" an gat em. I pot me hans ea me pocket tae

greap fer me munnie, an be me old buiks! ev I cud fin ea fardin! yee canit tell hou freetend I was; fowks all lafft et me; when ev me Uncle Willie (best fello sure ets olive, sea gud ta me) did nit cum just et time an paid fer them. Í was just puttin them under me arm, when I hard that nois, an wakken'd me, an ev et wassent a dream-buiks an Uncle Willie, an all gean!! Bet this noise-whya, et was nea less ea boddy than me fadder Jarvis, (a chap yee ken varra weel) es fowk coo'em; shoutin, Jon git up, be sharp mun, an git me't nag in, I want ta be off.' 'Tae be off,' ses I, 'whya whats rang we yee now?' rubbin me een, an strechin out me arms twice er thrice; 'I wish yee war off;' [I sed this between sleep an wakken, an sea readers yee need nit say I was camplin, er snappish ta me fadder] up I gat, dond me sel, pot on me clogs, an was varra neer nock'd owar be our old dog, Help, es he met me es I was glaspen them, an gat hoad ea me nous; bet et was varra lucky, fer hes teeth's aw gean, an sea I was lile warse. O man! I run off me text, as Priest ses in his sarmen; bet ta heasten on, I gat Peg in, efter a hard rin, (yan mud think thars summit et donnet in her she's sea wicked) an saddeld her afoer me fadder gat doun stairs; ev I mun speak, I mun; I'll tell yee what he was sea lang for. . Yee see me fadder's a lile matter ea Methody ea him, an when he gits up he neels doun, an returns thanks to the Author of all Good, fer preservin him an his family seaf anudder neet, an begs fer a continuance ith seam throu the day, &c. At last he was fairly astride old Peggy, an as he was gaen, ses he, 'I hev ta gang ta Rissendel Toun, ta see sum