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Mr. Clough would have pressed the money upon him, but he put it back with a motion of his hand.

“No, sir; aw’m a poor mon, a varry poor mon, but aw connot tak’ money fur savin’ a choilt’s life. It’s agen’ mi conscience. I’ll tak’ mi share o’ the bread an’ cheese, an’ drink yo’r health i’ a sup o’ ale, but aw cudna’ tak’ that brass if aw wur deein’.”

And Simon, giving a scrape with his clog, and a duck of his head, meant for a bow, passed his master respectfully, and went clattering up the steps of the “Skinners’ Arms,” leaving the gentleman standing there, and looking after him in mingled astonishment and admiration.

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WHEN the scurrying water, thick with sand and mud, and discoloured with dye stuffs, which floated in brightly-tinted patches on its surface, filled the arch of Scotland Bridge, and left only the rails of Tanners’ Bridge visible, the inundation reached its climax; but a couple of days elapsed before the flood subsided below the level of the unprotected tannery-yard, and until then neither Simon Clegg nor his mates could resume their occupations.