"Well, never mind, Gearge," said the miller; "if thee's slow, thee's
sure. What do 'ee remember about the book, now, Gearge? A don't
mind giving thee five shilling, if thee finds un, Gearge."

"A had un down at the burying, I 'member quite well now, sir. To
put the little un's name in 'twas. I thowt a hadn't been down zince
christening, I be so stoopid sartinly."

"What are you talking about, ye vool?" roared the miller.

"The book, sir, sartinly," said George, his honest face beaming with
good-humor. "The Vamly Bible, Master Lake."

And as the windmiller went off muttering something which the Family
Bible would by no means have sanctioned, George returned chuckling
to a leisurely use of his broom on the round-house floor.

Master Lake did not find the pocket-book, and after a day or two it
was advertised in a local paper, and a reward of five pounds offered
for it.

George Sannel was seated one evening in the "Heart of Oak" inn,
sipping some excellent home-brewed ale, which had been warmed up for
his consumption in a curious funnel-shaped pipkin, when his long
lop-ears caught a remark made by the inn-keeper, who was reading out
bits from the local paper to a small audience, unable to read it for
themselves.

"Five pound reward!" he read. "Lor massy! There be a sum to be