"Well, aw think th' risk o' bein kept daan'll be doubled if tha gooas, but awm willin' to risk it."
"Does ta think thers onny risk on us gettin draanded?"
"They'll nivver be able to draand thee until tha gets some moor weight i' thi heead, soa tha'rt safe enuff."
"If that's soa, tha's noa need for a life belt, soa come on!"
We gat th' lanlord to write it on a piece a paper whear we wanted to goa, for we could'nt affoord to loise ony time, an' jumpin into a cab we wor driven off.
Nah, it'll saand strange to some fowk to hear tell abaat ridin throo a main sewer in a railway carriage, but its just as true as it is strange—th' carriages are nobbut little ens reight enuff, an' ther's noa engins, but ther's men to pool an' men to shov an' yo goa along varrv nicely—its like travellin throo a big railway tunnel nobbut ther's a river runnin along side on yo or under yo all th' way, an' net a varry nice en—but awm sewer awve seen th' Bradford beck as mucky an' as black. It wor leeted i' some pairts wi' gas, an' i' some pairts wi lamps an' th' names o' th' streets at yo wor passin under wor put up, an' nah an' then yo passed a boat wi men in it, an' ivverything luked wonderful but flaysome. Billy sed he thowt they made a mistak to charge fowk for gooin in, it ud be better to charge em for comin aght, an' aw wor foorced to agree wi him for once, for i' spite o' all ther ventilation, ther wor a sickenin sensation at aw should'nt care to have aboon once. Dayleet an' fresh air wor varry welcome when we gate into em agean, an' for all mi love o' science aw could'nt but admit'at ther wor seets at we'd missed'at awd rayther ha seen. If we'd been booath gooid
Templars it wod ha proved an' economical trip for we wanted noa dinner, but as we wornt, awm feeard it proved rayther expensive. Brandy at hauf a franc a glass caants up when yo get a duzzen or two, but ther wor nowt else for it at we could see, an' as we went hooam to pack up us bits o' duds aw discovered at things had getten a varry awkard way o' doublin thersen, an' Billy wanted to stand at ivvery street corner to sing 'Rule Brittania,' but we landed safely an' gate a cup o' teah an' that set us all straight agean. Th' train left for Calais at 8 o'clock, an' it tuk us all us time to settle up an' get us luggage to th' station. Th' landlord went part way wi us for he had to call to get a new lock an kay for his back door, for he'd a nooation'at his next door naybor's kay wod fit his lock, an it wod be varry awkward if they'd to mak a mistak some neet and get into th' wrang shop. Billy said he thowt soa too, an it wor varry wise to guard agean sich things i' time. Altho' we wor booath on us glad to turn us faces toward hooam yet we felt a regret to leave a place wi soa monny beauties, an' sich a lot'at we'd nivver had a chonce to see; for ther's noa denyin it—Natur an' art have done all they could to mak it th' finest city ith' world—It hasnt th' quiet classic beauty o' Edinbro', nor th' moil an' bustle o' Lundun, nor th' quiet sedate luk o' Dublin—nor can it compare wi some o' th' startlin featurs o' th' American cities, but its fresher an' leetsomer an' altogether moor perfect nor ony one on em. It seemed a long wearisom ride throo Payris to Calais an' it wor a miserable drizzlin neet when we gate thear an' we lost noa time i' gettin onto th' booat at wor waitin. What wor th' difference between furst class passengers an' third class we could'nt tell for all seemed to mix in amang. After a grunt or two we wor off, an' th' mooin peept aght o' th' claads as if to say 'gooid bye' an' wish us gooid luk—th' waves coom wi a swish an' a swash agean th' vessel's side, an' th' two electric lamps glared after us from th' shore like two big een, an' marked a path o' leet on th' watter for us to goa by. Th' neet cleared up, but it wor varry chill, an' Billy an' me stopt on th' deck all th' time. We had'nt a bit o' sickly feelin soa we could enjoy a smook an' luk abaat us. Mooast o' th' fowk wor asleep an' all wor quiet, an' nowt happened worth mentionin until dayleet showed us th' white cliffs o' old England.
It wor like as if it gave mi heart a bit ov a fillip an' aw felt aw mud awther aght wi' summat or aw should brust, for nivver did a child run to meet its mother wi' moor joyous heart nor aw had when drawn near mi native land—Billy wor capt when aw struck up—
They may say what they will, but no Englishman's
heart,