up his arms to keep off the stick, as a used to do, there was he, drawing 'em all abroad!—and a said 'Don't ye—don't ye—I can't zee! If 'tis light, I be dark!' 'Oh, zays I, 'my dear, you ben't, to be zure.' 'Ees,' says he, 'I be, zure enough.' Well, I was agushed—zo I put down the stick, and looked to his eyes, but I could 'nt zee nort in 'em.' 'Zo,' zays I, 'why there's nor in your eyes, Jahn; you'll be better by'm bye.' Zo I got un up, dressed un, and tookt un to the winder 'There,' zaid I, 'Jahn, can't you zee now?' But no, a zaid, a could 'nt. 'Then,' zays I, 'I know what 't is. 'Tis your zight's a-turned inward.' Zo I took't a pair of zizzers, not sharp-tapped ones, yer honor, and poked to his eyes to turn the zight outward agio—but I couldn't. Well, then I brought un down stairs into this here room, yer honor. 'Zo,' zays I, 'Jahn, can't ye zee in this room, neither?' and a zaid an, a could n't. Well, then I thought of the picturs—he was always cruel vond of picture—thinks a, pr'aps a may zee they; an I tookt 'em up to thin. 'There,' zays I, 'Jahn, don't ye zee the pictur?—'tis Taffy riding upon his goat.' But a zaid no, a couldn't. Zo then a tookt un up to t'other pictur. 'There'—Sir, he was always very vond of thin—and I pushed his nose close to un; 'there,' zays I, 'to be sure you see this pictur, can't ye? But a zaid no. 'Why,' zaid I, ''t is Joseph and his brethren; there they be—there he twelve of 'em—can't ye zee ne'er a one of 'em?' But a zaid no, could n't zee none of 'em. 'Then,' says I, ''tis a bad job your zight's a-turned inward.' Zo we pomsterred with un a bit, and then tried some doctor's trade, but it did n't do no good: and, at last, we was told there was a vine man at Exeter vor zitch things—zo we zent un up to he. Well—there—the Exeter doctor zeed us, and tookt his box of tools, and zarched about his eyes a bit; and, then a zent un home with this word, that he couldn't do un no good, and nobody else could do un no good.'
We bring our 'drawer' to a close, for the present, with the subjoined 'Lines on the Weather,' written in the north temperate zone. Their publication would be unseasonable at a later period, and typographical circumstances have prevented their appearance in preceding pages:
Thus much for our 'pot-luck.' Perhaps it will stand in some rank of praise, in its very humble class of dishes; but if, as is likely, there should be any disagreement concerning it, among readers and correspondents, they must 'settle the hash' among themselves.
