"Just look at that, now. Coome orn, stoopid. Blest if ever there was sich a 'oss. It's pounds outer my pocket; but the guv'nor don't care, bless yer, as long as I take in my reg'lar dose every day. Jest look at that, now; pulling up short right in the middle of the road, cos them Jarmans was blowin' up a row. Likes music, I spose; so do I, when I can get it good, and so does everybody, it seems to me. I was a talking to a gentleman only t'other day, jest as I may be to you, and he says, says he, `It's my opinion that if you give the working classes good music, joined to good words, they wouldn't notice them rubbishing music-hall things, as only goes down because they're tacked on to a pretty tune.' And he's right, yer know, and he's a man as has done a good deal towards improving the working people. Why, only see if a pretty tune comes up if it isn't whistled and sung all over the town--ah, and the country too--in no time; and what's more, it ain't forgotten neither. Yer see, to like yer fine books and poetry a man wants eddication; but it comes nateral to him to love a pretty tune. I ain't up to much, yer know, but I can't stand the rubbish as folks goes and wags their heads to--and what for? only because they can't get anything better. Who says common folks don't love music! Just take 'em and show 'em the crowds arter the soldiers' and volunteer bands, and in the parks, and then, perhaps, they'll alter their tune; and--look at that, now, if I ain't gone right away from the story. Shouldn't do for a speaker, I shouldn't, for it seems to me as I'm like my old 'oss, Nosey--allus wants to turn down the fust turning as comes. There he goes. Coo-o-me orn. "Well, things goes on for a matter o' months, and twiste a week I pockets my three-and-six; but I keeps thinking as it couldn't last much longer. `So the old gentleman got tired,' says you. Right you are! He did get tired at last, but not as you might think. He allus came same time, and stopped same time, and then I drove him back to his own door. Summer went by. The gals had cried the lavendy up and down the streets, and the swells had all gone outer town to the sea-side and the furrin waterin' places; and for long enough, whenever a decent job had come, it had been luggage on the roof, and a bundle of sticks and umbrellys inside, and then off to some railway station or another. Kensington Gardings was a rainin' yaller leaves all day long, while the robins was tunin' up their melancholy little pipes, just as if there was no one else left to sing, and they was werry miserable becos the cold weather was a-comin'; while there was no sing left in me, for my asthmy was a beginning to tickle me up a bit, as it allus does in autumn time; but still my old gentleman comes as reg'lar as clockwork.