From the Mining Districts.—(Young Curate finds a Miner sitting on a gate smoking.)—Curate (desirous to ingratiate himself with one of his flock). A fine morning, my friend.
One of his flock gives the slightest nod, and a grunt, and spits.
Curate (supposing that he had not been heard). A fine morning, my good friend.
One of his flock. Did I say it warn't. Do you want to hargue, you beggar?
Lady. "And you say you have been brought to this by your wife?"
Tramp. "Yuss, lidy. I got 'er three good jobs, and 'er bloomin' independence lorst 'er the lot of 'em!"