ewed, but I got no forrarder; an' then I knew I were boun' to
drown."

As Job got to this point in his story something of the old terror crept
into his eyes, and I did my best to cheer him.

"Well, Job," I said, "they tell me that drowning is the pleasantest kind
of death that there is."

His face brightened up immediately, and he replied: "Thou's tellin'
true, lad, an' what's more, I know all about it. If anybody wants to
know what it's like to be drowned, send 'em to Job Hesketh. If I'd as
mony lives as an owd tom-cat, I'd get shut on 'em all wi' drownin'."

Job's spirits were evidently restored, so I urged him to get on with his
story.

"Well," he continued, "I tugged an' tewed as lang as I could, but my
mouth began to get full o' watter, my legs an' airms were dead beat, an'
I reckoned that 'twere all ower wi' me. An' then a fearful queer sort o'
thing happened me. I were i' my father's farm on t' wold, laikin' wi' my
brothers same as I used to do when I were a lile barn. An', what's more,
I thowt it were my ninth birthday. You see, when I were nine yeer owd,
my father gave me two gimmer lambs an' I were prouder yon day nor iver
I'd bin i' my life afore. Weel, that were t' day that had coom back; I
knew nowt about drownin', but theer was I teein' a bit o' ribbin' about
t' lambs' necks an' givin' 'em a sup o' milk out o' a bottle. An' then I
were drivin' wi' my father an' mother i' t' spring-cart to Driffield
markit. I'd donned my best clothes and my nuncle had gien me a new
sixpenny-bit for a fairin', an' I were to buy choose-what I liked. Well,
I were aimin' to think how I sud spend t' brass when I got to Driffield,
when suddenly I weren't a lile barn no more. I were Job Hesketh,
vesselman at Leeds Steel Works, and I were drownin' i' t' sea. I saw a
boat noan so far away and I tried to holla to t' boatman, but 'twere no
use; all my strength had given out, an' my voice were nobbut a groan.
An' then----"

Job paused, and I looked up into his face. A strange radiance had come
over it, such as I had never seen there before. I had heard it said that
all that was brightest in a man's past life rises like a vision before
his eyes when, in the act of drowning, his body sinks once, and then
again, beneath the water, but I had never before confronted a man who
could relate in detail what had happened to him. Then there was Job's
story about his return ticket to heaven, which puzzled me, and I urged
him to continue his