r my pranks. Caricaturing the teacher was one of my
favourite attractions and principal offences--at least I had to smart
most for it. But I got over it, as all boys seem to have done. Perhaps
the best description of my antics before I was ten years of age will be
found in the following "opinion" of the old wives of the villages of
Fell-lane and Exley-head; the lines came from my pen more than thirty
years ago:--

O! HE'S A' ILL 'UN

Dancin', an' jumpin', an' fair going mad--
What can be done with this wild, wicked lad?
Plaguin' t'poor cat till it scratches his hand,
Or tolling some door wi' a stone an' a band;
Rolling i't' mud as black as a coil,
Cheeking his mates wi' a "Ha'penny i't' hoil;"
Slashin' an' cuttin' wi' a sword made o' wood,
Actin' Dick Turpin or bold Robin Hood--
T'warst little imp 'at there is i't' whole street:
O! he's a shocker is young Billy Wreet!

Playin' a whistle or drummin' a can,
Seein' how far wi' his fingers can span:
Breakin' a window wi' throwin' a stone,
Then ligs it on Tommy, or Charley, or Jone;
Mockin' a weaver when swingin' his spooils,
Chief-engineer of a train made o' stooils;
Last out o' bed, an' last in at neet--
O! he's a imp is that young Billy Wreet!

Ridin' a pony wi' a rope round its neck,
Tryin' to cross a ford or a beck,
Lettin' off rockets or swingin' a gate,
Walkin' on t'riggin' on t'top of a slate;
Out a birds' nestin' an' climbin' up trees,
Rivin' his jacket an' burstin' his knees;
An' a body can't leave ought safe out o't' neet,
But what it's in danger o' daft Willie Wreet!

Breakin' down hedges, an' climbin' up trees,
Scalin' the rocks on his hands an' his knees,
Huntin', or skatin', or flying a kite,
An' seein' how much he can take at a bite;
Plaguin' a donkey, an' makin' it kick,
Prickin' its belly wi't' end of a stick;
An' you who are livin', you'll yet live to see't,
That something will happen that scamp Billy Wreet!

A FALSE ALARM

About this time the country was in a state of great turbulency on account
of the Plug Drawing and the Chartist Riots. Soldiers were stationed at
Keighley, where the late Captain Ferrand had a troop of yeoman cavalry
under his charge. One day, I recollect, the Keighley soldiers had a rare
outing. This is just how it came about. An old inhabitant, with the
baptismal name, James Mitchell, but the locally-accepte