y word, he did bounce dahn that hill ta
some tune. When he gat back, t'missis hed geen 'em to Jonas o' Sall's,
an' behold they wor luking fer one another up hills an' dahn valleys, Joe
axin' ivverybody he met if they'd seen owt of his three pasties, an'
Jonas axin' fer t'owner on 'em. Hahsumivver, they nivver gat ta see nowt
wal they wor theer, for they didn't meet wal t'train wor just startin'
back agean, an' then Joe didn't get his pasties, cos Jonas hed geen 'em
to a injun-driver, an' theer--betmess he'd hetten 'em, ta Joe's
mortification an' rage!

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 craaded 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--

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'