uvverything away, barrin' the one sate, when we were livin' in
Lancaster Street." "Where do you all sit now, then?" "My mother sits
there," replied she, "an' we sit upon the flure." "I heard they were
goin' to sell these heawses," said one of the lads, "but, begorra,"
continued he, with a laugh, "I wouldn't wonder did they sell the
ground from under us next." In the course of our visitation a
thunder storm came on, during which we took shelter with a poor
widow woman, who had a plateful of steeped peas for sale, in the
window. She also dealt in rags and bones in a small way, and so
managed to get a living, as she said, "beawt troublin' onybody for
charity." She said it was a thing that folk had to wait a good deal
out in the cold for.

It was market-day, and there were many country people in Preston. On
my way back to the middle of the town, I called at an old inn, in
Friargate, where I listened with pleasure a few minutes to the old-
fashioned talk of three farmers from the Fylde country. Their
conversation was principally upon cow-drinks. One of them said there
was nothing in the world like "peppermint tay an' new butter" for
cows that had the belly-ache. "They'll be reet in a varra few
minutes at after yo gotten that into 'em," said he. As evening came
on the weather settled into one continuous shower, and I left
Preston in the heavy rain, weary, and thinking of what I had seen
during the day. Since then I have visited the town again, and I
shall say something about that visit hereafter.



CHAPTER IX.