Four rough lads were gathered round a brown dish, which stood upon a little deal table in the middle of the floor.

These four were round-headed little fellows, all teeming with life.

"Yon catched us eawt o'flunters, (out of order,)" said the poor woman when we entered; "but what con a body do ?" We were begging that she would not disturb herself, when one of the lads at the table called out, "Mother; look at eawr John.

He keeps pushin' me off th' cheer!" "Eh, John," replied she; "I wish thy feyther were here! Thae'rt olez tormentin' that lad.

Do let him alone, wilto--or else aw'll poo that toppin' o' thine, smartly--aw will! An' do see iv yo connot behave yorsels!" "Well," said John; "he keeps takkin' my puddin'!" "Eh, what a story," replied the other little fellow; "it wur thee, neaw!" " Aw'll tell yo what it is," said the mother, "iv yo two connot agree, an' get your dinner quietly, aw'll tak that dish away; an' yo'st not have another bite this day.