for him high and low
in the "publics" at "the other end of the town," but all in vain.
Meanwhile it had begun to dawn upon me that the stranger wasn't _my_
friend at all. What greatly disheartened me was to know that he had my
green bag, containing my stock-in-trade, in his possession wherever he
was. This was a great blow to me. Having satisfied myself that he was not
in Brighouse I pushed on my journey. I asked each person I met if he had
seen a man with a green bag, but none of them seemed to remember having
seen either a green bag or a man carrying one of those articles. I now
began to think I was truly on my "last legs."

AT WARP-DRESSING AGAIN

But I did not utterly forget the sentiment of Shakespeare--"There is a
tide in the affairs of men which, taken at the flood, leads on to
fortune." I stayed the night at a little village called Kirkburton, and
the following morning I walked to Clayton West. Here, I found out, a good
deal of fancy weaving was carried on; and, looking at my case from all
its bearings, I came to the conclusion that it was advisable for me to
abandon my theatrical career, for the present at least, and try my hand
at warp-dressing again. This was duly resolved upon. Accordingly, I
applied at a factory at Clayton West, belonging I believe, to Mr Norton.
I got employment without much trouble: luckily they were in want of a
"man o'my sort."

A MINISTERING ANGEL

I started work at noon and worked during the dinner-hour. The first of
the hands to return from dinner was a good-looking young wench, a
twister-in. She thoughtfully asked if I had had my dinner. Of course I
didn't think I had, as it was too far to go home to it. "Oh! but you
shall have some dinner" says the big-hearted factory-lass; "for I'll go
home and bring you something." "Thank you," said I, and she was gone. But
not for long; not many minutes elapsed before she was by my side with a
big jug of coffee and a goodly-sized, appetising, real Yorkshire pasty,
the size of an oven-tin or thereabouts. I don't want to go into
fractions, besides, it isn't at all necessary. Suffice it to say that I
presented her with my heart felt thanks.

Bards hev sung the fairest fair,
Their rosy cheeks an' auburn hair,
The dying lover's deep despair,
Their harps hev rung;
But useful wimmin's songs are rare,
An' seldom sung.
Low is mi lot, and hard mi ways
While paddlin' thro' life's stormy days;
Yet ah will si