The Antiquary.
Tourist (in Cornwall). "May I be permitted to examine that interesting stone in your field? These ancient Druidical remains are most interesting!"
Farmer. "Sart'nly, sir. 'May be very int'restin' an' arnshunt, but we do stick 'em oup for the cattle, an' call 'em roubbin' pusts!!"
Smithson, having read and heard much of the pleasures of a driving tour, determines to indulge in that luxury during his Whitsuntide holidays. He therefore engages a trap, with a horse that can "get over the ground," and securing the services of an experienced driver, he sets forth.
Smithson. "A—a—isn't he—a—a—hadn't I better help you to pull at him?"
Driver. "Pull at 'im? Why yer'd set 'im crazed! Jist you let me keep is 'ead straight. Lor' bless yer, there ain't no cause to be affeared, as long as we don't meet nothing, and the gates ain't shut at Splinterbone crossing, jist round the bend."
Stout Party. "Is this path safe?"
Flippant Youth. "Yes, the path is—but I can't answer for you!"
"Will you 'urry up paintin' that tree, sir? Cause I'm goin' to cut it down in a quarter of an hour."
Tourist (in search of "the unique," after admiring old cottage). "Is there anything else to look at in the village?"
Village Dame. "Lor' bless 'ee, why there's the beautiful new recr'ation ground as we've just 'ad made!"
