I hope we'll both live to see him an ornament to his profession yet.

There is only the girl, an' Stephen, an' myself left at home now, an' we have hard work to pull through, I can assure ye; though there are many people a dale worse off than we are." From this place we went up to a street called "Vauxhall Road." In the first cottage we called at here the inmates were all out of work, as usual, and living upon relief.

There happened to be a poor old white-haired weaver sitting in the house,--an aged neighbour out of work, who had come in to chat with my friend a bit.

My friend asked how he was getting on.

"Yo mun speak up," said the woman of the house, "he's very deaf." "What age are yo, maister ?" said I.
"What ?" "How old are yo ?" "Aw'm a beamer," replied the old man, "a twister-in,--when there's ought doin'.