aw dooant put it
aght, what then?"

"But you shall put it aght, an at once too," he went on, gettin varry
red i' th' face, "do yo think at aw shall submit to be poisoned wi yor
vile, disgustin tobacca smook? sich men as yo should ride in a cattle
truck or a dog box--tho' if yo wor in there yo'd be taichin th' cawves
an puppies bad habbits--Owd buffer, indeed! I'll have yo fined, sir."

"Nah dooan't yo get raggy," sed Sydney, poolin aght his cigar case, an
leetin another; "if aw have to be fined aw mud as weel have summat for
my brass," an he moved an sat on a seat in front o'th owd chap, an
puffed aght o' both cigars as fast as he could, wol he made sich a reek
i'th hoil at th' lamp up aboon lukk'd like a full mooin on a misty neet.

"Awm a director on this line," th' owd beggar gasped, "an aw insist on
yor desistin the smookin at once, sir."

"A director are yo? awm fain to see yo, aw've often wanted to ax one o'
ye gentry ha it is at th' trains is soa unpunctual on this line?"

Th' owd chap jumped up an run to th' winder, an let it daan, an started
tryin to find th' cord to stop th' train, but bi gooid luck he'd getten
to th' wrang side o'th carriage, an while he wor botherin to find th'
rope, Sydney opened th' t'other winder an stuck one o'th' slips wi
"Smookin" on it, on th' aghtside oth' pane, an then he sed:

"Aw insist on yo closin that winder, sir, th' draught annoys me, as
aw've getten a bad cowd."

Haivver th' owd chap wodn't shut it, he kept his heead aght an cought,
an it worn't till he catched seet o' Sydney sharpenin a gurt jack-knife
on his booit, at he wor flayed into cloisin it. Nah it soa happened at
only that varry afternooin, th' owd feller had been readin ith' paper,
abaat a man havin escaped throo a mad haase somwhear or other, an it
struck him at Sydney must be th' varry chap, soa he wor in sich a funk
'at he didn't know whativver to do, but he thowt th' best thing wod be
to keep as still as he could, an not vex Sydney, soa he sat daan as
quiet as owt an sed nowt.

"Are yo fond o' mewsic?" Sydney axt.

"Varry," sed th' owd chap.

Soa Sydney started wavin his jack knife abaat, an bellowin a song aght
o' tune, abaat Buffalo Bill, an huntin buffalos in th' wilds o'
Kensington, an he stuck a verse in abaat scalpin Railway directors. In
th' meeantime th' train wor gooin along at a gooid rattle, for they wor
lat, an th' driver wor makkin up time, soa th' carriage started o'
swingin a bit. T