22 ALONGSHORE , 



here about one last night, after I'd had an hour's 

 sleep an' a cup o' tay — while you was snug abed 

 — the sea was crying, crying 'twas on the sand at 

 low tide. An' you knows what it means when you 

 hears thic' 



'I know'd something or other was coming,' a 

 bystander remarks. 'My corn was stabbing all 

 yesterday. ... I got the rheumatics chronic in 

 this left shoulder now. . . .' 



'G'out wi' thy corns! They didn't tell thee 

 what 'twas was coming, like the sky an' the sea 

 told me. I an't got no corns; I knows how to 

 cure they; my gran'mother told me; know'd a 

 bit, they ol' women did; an' I an't got no 

 rheumatics, though I been wet through in my 

 time so long as you been born. An' you wouldn't 

 hae no rheumatics nuther if 'twasn't for drinking 

 so much o' thic there coffin-polish. I don't want 

 no corns nor no rheumatics for to tell me what 

 sort o' weather 'tis going to be; n'eet no double-X 

 for to help me bear it. I don't need for 'em to 

 tell me that us hain't finished wi' it eet. 'Tis 

 going to blow harder afore it blows soft. Casn' 

 thee hear the gulls screaming back over the houses 

 like as if they was in pain? They knows so well 

 as you an' me; aye, better! Pretty things I 



