furiously, and asked permission to refill it.

Now and then a Claybury man has gone to foreign parts, said the old man,
drinking from the replenished mug, and placing it where the traveller
could mark progress without undue strain; but they've, gen'rally
speaking, come back and wished as they'd never gone.

The on'y man as I ever heard of that made his fortune by emigrating
was Henery Walker's great-uncle, Josiah Walker by name, and he wasn't a
Claybury man at all. He made his fortune out o' sheep in Australey, and
he was so rich and well-to-do that he could never find time to answer
the letters that Henery Walker used to send him when he was hard up.

Henery Walker used to hear of 'im through a relation of his up in
London, and tell us all about 'im and his money up at this here
"Cauliflower" public-house. And he used to sit and drink his beer and
wonder who would 'ave the old man's money arter he was dead.

When the relation in London died Henery Walker left off hearing about
his uncle, and he got so worried over thinking that the old man might
die and leave his money to strangers that he got quite thin. He talked
of emigrating to Australey 'imself, and then, acting on the advice of
Bill Chambers--who said it was a cheaper thing to do--he wrote to his
uncle instead, and, arter reminding 'im that 'e was an old man living
in a strange country, 'e asked 'im to come to Claybury and make his 'ome
with 'is loving grand-nephew.

It was a good letter, because more than one gave 'im a hand with it, and
there was little bits o' Scripture in it to make it more solemn-like.
It was wrote on pink paper with pie-crust edges and put in a green
envelope, and Bill Chambers said a man must 'ave a 'art of stone if that
didn't touch it.

Four months arterwards Henery Walker got an answer to 'is letter from
'is great-uncle. It was a nice letter, and, arter thanking Henery Walker
for all his kindness, 'is uncle said that he was getting an old man, and
p'r'aps he should come and lay 'is bones in England arter all, and if he
did 'e should certainly come and see his grand-nephew, Henery Walker.

Most of us thought Henery Walker's fortune was as good as made, but Bob
Pretty, a nasty, low poaching chap that has done wot he could to give
Claybury a bad name, turned up his nose at it.

"I'll believe he's coming 'ome when I see him," he ses. "It's my belief
he went to Australey to get out o' your way, Henery."

"As it 'appened he went ther