rs, each o'm in his treaede,
An' _Air_ an' _Water_, wer a-match
Vor woone another in a mill;
The giant _Water_ at a hatch,
An' _Air_ on the windmill hill.
Zoo then, when _Water_ had a-meaede
Zome money, _Aeir_ begrudg'd his treaede,
An' come by, unaweaeres woone night,
An' vound en at his own mill-head,
An' cast upon en, iron-tight,
An icy cwoat so stiff as lead.
An' there he wer so good as dead
Vor grinden any corn vor bread.
Then _Water_ cried to _Vier_, "Alack!
Look, here be I, so stiff's a log,
Thik fellor _Air_ do keep me back
Vrom grinden. I can't wag a cog.
If I, dear _Vier_, did ever souse
Your nimble body on a house,
When you wer on your merry pranks
Wi' thatch or refters, beams or planks,
Vorgi'e me, do, in pity's neaeme,
Vor 'twerden I that wer to bleaeme,
I never wagg'd, though I be'nt cringen,
Till men did dreve me wi' their engine.
Do zet me free vrom theaese cwold jacket,
Vor I myzelf shall never crack it."
"Well come," cried _Vier_, "My vo'k ha' meaede
An engine that 'ull work your treaede.
If _E'th_ is only in the mood,
While I do work, to gi'e me food,
I'll help ye, an' I'll meaeke your skill
A match vor Mister _Air's_ wold mill."
"What food," cried _E'th_, "'ull suit your bwoard?"
"Oh! trust me, I ben't over nice,"
Cried _Vier_, "an' I can eat a slice
Ov any thing you can avword."
"I've lots," cried _E'th_, "ov coal an' wood."
"Ah! that's the stuff," cried _Vier_, "that's good."
Zoo _Vier_ at woonce to _Water_ cried,
"Here, _Water_, here, you get inside
O' theaese girt bwoiler. Then I'll show
How I can help ye down below,
An' when my work shall woonce begin
You'll be a thousand times so strong,
An' be a thousand times so long
An' big as when you vu'st got in.
An' I wull meaeke, as sure as death,
Thik fellor _Air_ to vind me breath,
An' you shall grind, an' pull, an' dreve,
An' zaw, an' drash, an' pump, an' heave,
An' get vrom _Air_, in time, I'll lay
A pound, the dreven ships at sea."
An' zoo 'tis good to zee that might
Wull help a man a-wrong'd, to right.

THE LITTLE WOROLD.

My hwome wer on the timber'd ground
O' Duncombe, wi' the hills a-bound:
Where vew from other peaerts did come,
An' vew did travel vur from hwome,
An' small the worold I did know;
But then, what had it to bestow
But Fanny Deaene so good an' feaeir?
'Twer wide eno