fat kie, ev Willie D-, an sum mair ea Richey et Brounber; en et will be lang befoure Ise git back; nou mind an du summit, pou up them hay-greens ea Paddy-mire, an mak sum skuers, as thou'll hev ta butch seventeen sheep this "week.' 'Aye, aye,' sed I, 'I warrand yee ise find plenty ta dea,' an off he went. I went inta Paddy-mire, a lile feeld ev ours, acros et roued. I hed just duen, when me frind Bobby Rimer, es tha coo him (bet his rete neam is Worthy) com by. Hollo, Bob,' ses I, 'an that's yer ane sel I see, er sumboddy else?' ses he, 'Ets mebbe me er me brudder, an mappen nouder ev us; what, ye butchers du work sum times; cum bend the back, we aw this befe an yall, yee may varra weel work ea bit.' He hed a coo wid him; ses I, 'Er yee taken coo ted bull ??

-

Bob.-Aye, fer aw yee luck sea dull.

Jack. What ea yer Poetical mood o reddy this mournin, brudder chip?

Bob.-Yes, an on I must glide,
Tae plessent Riddleside-

Gud mournin, Enterber Poet.

Jack.-Thear gangs the Poet Bob,
A Kirby Stevven snob→

Gud mournin, Bobby Rimer.

What thout I, hees gitten that nick-neam off tu, Enterber Poet!' scroggins! bet ets a fine neam tu!. -ea ivver

What is meant weel,
Often dus nea ill.

He's es gud a humer'd lad that, es ivver stept ea shu ledder; he is a bit ev a frind o mine, (I hevvent mony God knows) an a Poet besides, an nobbet a plain farmer's lad, er sun, an leevs ea Kirby, et Backsides; an is

As decent a lad
Es need be had;
Wie an honest feace,
An a lile matter a grace.
He need nit care fer nin,
Fer he commits lile sin;
His conscience es cleare,
Fra all slavish fear.

In short-his equel yee cannit find,
Iv ta serch the world yee war inclin❜d.

Es I hed gitten me job duen, an wanted sum twills ta rite wie, I thout et I wad tak a woak wie him ta Kirby when he com back. I'll tell yee what crack we hed, ef yee'll grant me ya thing; ets this-et yeel mind an len nea boddy this buik, bet tell them et wants ta borrou'd, et Buiksellers hev sea menny their forc'd ta sell them, an times er bad, an munnie sea bad ta git-an sic like; just what cums ea yar heed-du please a butcher's lad fer yance,

Jack. What hev ye mead et cou?
Bob.-I'll tell thee just nou.

Jack.-What, et Poetical mood yet?
Bob. An will be a gay bit.
Jack.-Cum, speak out plain,
Bob.-I hev, and will again.

Jack. Sic a fello, sea fond éa rime,

Bob.-An sea I is, many a time.

Jack. I'll gang wie tha ev thoul stay,

Bob.-Hie tha than, I mun away.

Jack. Till I gang inta our hous,

Bob.-Be sharp thou silly guese.

(I ran an fetteld me sel, gat a hoopenny out ea me box, an ran wie out me bruicast, an fand Bobby Rimer et rowd.)

Jack.-O! what ea queer, strange fello,
Bob.-I issent like't butchers, gittin mello.
Jack. What ivver mun I sa, gie owar rimein,
Bob.-Whya, than gie thee owar primin.
Jack. Ise gaen ta tell tha summit ets fresh,
Bob.-Ha, ha, thou maks me think ea Tommy Esh!
Jack.-An what ea him?

Bob. He was sea prim.

Jack.-O! praia du let me proceed,

Bob.-I think thou'd better indeed.

Jack. What dus ta mean? yan cannit tawk et aw,
Bob.-Them et hods ther heeds hee, oft gits ea fɔu.
Jack. I hev been et Ken-dall!

Bob.-An mebbe seen White-hall!

Jack. And a varst mair beside,

Bob. The lile heed wad be full ea pride.
Jack.-O! whist, Robin a Rimer, Ò whist,
Bob.-I issent ta bleame, thou spak furst.
Jack. I sawt Watter Witch,' riding et Canell,
Bob.-Did ta see't than be the sell?
Jack.-Na, I was wie me frind, J— B—ll,
Bob. A decent chap, I ken him weel.

Jack. I wish yee wad whist yee chatterin taistrell,
Bob.-Did ta ride than awd way wie Gowdie H—ll ?

Jack. O pretha whist, I tell tha nay,

Bob.-Whya than thou mappen woak'd aw'd way?

Jack.-Aye, sure, how mud I ride?

Bob.-Thou's an ass! wie thee feet et stirups an legs astride.
Jack.—I did nit mean sea, wheas nag mud I ea riddin on?
Bob. Whya thee Uncle Willie's, he wad hev lent tae yan.
Jack.-Bet I hev borro'd his galoway twice,
Bob.-O yer kind, he'd a lent the't thrice!

Jack.-Whya cum et maks nea matter,

Bob.-Hou wise fowks tawk an fuels du chatter.

Jack. (In a passion) We er et Kirby, thou wad mak yan mad,,
Bob.-Ta plage an vex a silly Butcher's lad!

Jack.-Thou's surely gean intul thee doutage,
Bob.-Gud mournin, Jonny ev Enterber Cottage.

Solus.-Wad nit et mak enny boddy dad wie sic behaviour? marry wod it; bet efter aw, ets nobbet a joke, I ken his humour. I'll just step intul A― D's shop, an git me clarified twills, an woddle back tae me skewers, an plesent, quiet Enterber Cottage.

CHAPTER XXI.

I might swell this work to a large volume, but my pages being limited, must shortly bring it to a close.

The time glided smoothly along at Fountain Lodge. Charles and Augustus being in company with those, who, to them were All in All. Charles, the Satirist Charles, prior to his leaving the Lodge, had obtained the consent of Silviana, to be his, after his return from his travels, she would then be of age. Augustus, the bashful Augustus, had also continued, some how or other, I can scarcely tell how, to lay his heart, his All, at Caroline's feet, and poured out his love-sick tale; who blushingly gave him to understand, with down-cast looks, that 'she was honoured by his addresses, and could her father's consent be gained, she was;' modestly sealed her lips-but, from what Augustus had heard, he was the happiest of the happy. But, alas! Lord Hargraves' consent was never granted; for, at his Lordship's return from Parliament, he was taken ill, and died of an apoplexy. The news arrived in time to stop Charles, and instead of taking his tour, had to follow his father's dust to the silent tomb. It is needless to describe the sorrow which the death of Lord Hargrave spread through every breast that knew him. The Clemence's were also at that melancholy occasion; and shared in their sorrow.

Charles, inherited the estates and titles of his father. Edward James, had a handsome fortune, and got himself a lucrative office in India. Caroline, also, was ably provided for, (as Lord

Hargrave had made his Will) and her brother was her guardian. Ferdinand, had run off to London, with a girl of the town, and was taken by a press-gang, and for years was never heard of.

After the season of mourning and grief, had by degrees subsided, Charles and Silviana pledged their vows, at Hymens Hallowed Shrine, (whose hearts were already joined); and shortly after, Augustus and Caroline followed their example,

Julia, the proud Julia, was destined to live and die an old maid, however, she forgot her pride and ill temper, amongst her little Nephews and Nieces, and though the luckless fate of Ferdinand had made content and happiness strangers for a while to the breast of Squire Clemence; yet pleasure and happiness again gladdened the family circle at Fountain's Lodge-the old gentleman's days glided smoothly along, being beguiled by the innocent prattles of his grand-children-yet amidst all, none were so happy as Charles THE SATIRIST.'

AUTHOR'S SOLILOQUY IN HIS STUDY,

ON FINISHING THIS BOOK,

In his own dialect-time seven o'clock in the morning.

I mun be sharp, its ommast seven a'clock, an I hevnit deyan this buik yet! Ive hed monny a sleepless neet owar'd. Aye, mony a time Ive hed ta cum dawn that trap duer* (looking up

* Trap-door. By this the Author means as he says; as he had cut a square hole through the boards of his little chamber flour, which was exactly over his 'study,' (a pantry once, but now converted into a 'Study,') for the purpose of descending more speedily (and without awaking his parents) into it while writing the 'Sati ist,' as he often came down at midnight, and wrote a great part of it as before notic'd, he had little or no time in the day.