Th’ mooast remarkable thing ‘at aw’ con recollect abaat this time last year, wor a trip to Hollinworth Lake. Ther’d been a collection made at the Longloin Sunday Schooil for a new gas meeter; an after they’d getten th’ brass, they bethought ’em ‘at th’ old en could be made do, an’ soa th’ taichers agreed to have a trip wi’ th’ funds. They argued a gooid deeal abaat ha to spend it, an’ at last it wor decided they should walk all th’ rooad, an’ spend it as they went on. They started aat at four o’clock one Setterday mornin’ i’ furst rate fettle. Ther wor six men an’ seven women; but as th’ superintendent wor as big as two, they considered thersen weel paired. They trudged nicely on till they gate to Bolton Brow, an’ then two or three began to feel faint, an’ Swallow (that’s th’ superintendent’s name) propooased ’at they should have a drop o’ drink to revive ’em. Noabdy had owt to say agean that, soa as th’ public haase wor just oppened, one on ’em went in an’ browt aat a quart pitcher full an’ handed it to Swallow to sup th’ furst. An’ he did sup—for when he left lause ther wor nowt left but th’ froth on his upper lip to tell at ther’d iver bin ony. “Well” said Lijah, “aw’ve heeared swallows called burds of passage, but if they’d all a passage like thee, they’d sup th’ sea dry.” “Tha sees, Lijah,” he said, “awm unfortunate, for aw’ve a thirst on me ’at aw cannot quench, an’ aw darn’t sup watter for fear o’ havin’ th’ dropsy.” All th’ women agreed’ at he wor reight, an’ soa after another quart amang em they went on.