Though I said in my last—wot wos true—I was jest on the mizzle for town.
'Ad a letter from nunky, old man, with another small cheque. Good old nunk!
So I'm in for a fortnit' more sulphur and slosh, afore doing a bunk.
Ah! I've worked it, my pippin, I've worked it; gone in for hexcursions all round,
To Knaresborough, Bolton, and Fountains. You know, dear old pal, I'll be bound,
As hantiquities isn't my 'obby, and ruins don't fetch me, not much!
I can't see their "beauty," no more than the charms of some dowdy old Dutch.
A Castle, all chunnicks of stone, or a Habbey, much out of repair,
A skelinton Banquetting 'All, and a bit of a broken-down stair,
May appear most perticular "precious" to them as the picteresk cops;