"Tha'rt a liar if iver ther wor one! An' that's a hard thing to say, but aw wodn't hang a cat o' thi word! It's as sure yor Alick 'at's brokken awr winder, as awm standin here, an' tha knows it too!"
"Aw say it isn't awr Alick, for he's niver been aat 'oth' haase this blessed day! Tha's awther brokken it thisen or' else one o' thi own's done it,—an' they are a lot 'oth' warst little imps 'at iver lived; an' if aw mud ha' mi mind on 'em, awd thresh' em to within an inch o' ther lives! But yo can expect nowt noa better when yo know what a bringin up they've had."
"They've had a different bringin up to what ony o' thine's likely to have, but whativer comes o' ther bringin up, yo'll have to pay for that winder, for it isn't th' first he's brokken, an' if yo dooant, next time I catch him, awl have it aat ov his booans.'
"Let me catch thee ligging a finger o' one o' mine, an' awl mak this fold too little for thee, an' sharply too; ha can ta fashion! A gurt strappin woman like thee, to mell ov a child? Tha owt to be 'shamed o' thi face! But tha has noa shame an' niver had."
"Well if tha's ony its nobbut latly come to thi! Awve too much shame to come hooam druffen of a neet after th' neighbors has getten to bed."
"Whoas come hooam druffen? Does ta mean to say 'at aw wor iver druffen? Aw'll mak thee prove thi words if ther's a law 'ith land 'at can do it! Aw'll let thee see 'at my keracter is as gooid as onybody's, an' a deal better nor sich as thine."
"Aw niver sed who it wor 'at coom hooam druffen, but aw dar say tha can guess."
"If its onnybody its thisen! gurt brussen thing 'at tha art! Who is it 'at sends ther poor husband to his wark wi' a sup o' teah an' dry cake, an' then cooks a beefsteak to ther own breakfast? Can ta tell me that?"
"If aw connot, tha can, an' that isn't all;—can ta tell me who it is 'at invites th' neighbors to rum and teah 'ith' after nooin, when they know th' husband's gooin to work ovver? Can ta tell me that?"
"Well, if ther's been onny rum an' teah stirrin, tha's allus takken gooid care to have thi share on it, but they've allus been wimmen 'ats' come to awr haase when th' maister's been aat, that's one blessin."
"Does ta meean to say 'at ther's onny fellies been to awr haase when th' husband's been off? Tha'd better mind what tha says or else that cap o' thine ul suffer!"
"Aw dooant say onny fellies has been;—tha should know th' best, but awm nawther blind nor gaumless. But aw'll tell th' what tha art;—Tha'rt a nasty, ill contrived gooid-for-nowt, an' all th' neighbors say soa, an' they wish to gooidness tha'd flit, an' all at belangs to thi, for ther's niver onny peace whear tha ar't."
"Noa, an' ther niver will be onny peace wol tha pays for yond winder! Does ta think fowk's nowt else to do wi' ther brass, but to put in winders for yor Alick to mash?"
"Aw tell thi he hasn't mash'd it, for he's niver cross'd th' doorstun sin he gate up. Th' fact is he's niver getten up yet, for he isn't at hooam, for he's aboon twenty miles off, at his gronmothers."
"Dooant tell me that! Ther's awr Vaynus comin, he knows who mash'd it. Vaynus! Who wor it 'at mash'd yond winder? Nah tell a lie at thi peril,—did ta see it brokken?"
"Eea, aw saw Topsy jump up at th' birdcage, an' it missed it click an' tumbled throo th' winder."
"A'a I drabbit that cat! Aw'll as sure screw its neck raand as awm livin!"
"Nah tha sees, aw tell'd thi it worn't awr Aleck!"
"Noa, it couldn't ha been! Are ta sure tha saw yond cat do it, Vaynus?"
"Eea awm sure aw saw it."
"Why then it wornt yor Alick! An aw hardly thowt it wor, for he's abaat as quiet a lad an' as daycent a one as ther is abaat here. Aw oft tell awrs to tak a lesson throo him."
"Ther's noa better lad iver breathed nor awr Alick;—aw dooant say'at he's better nor onnybody's else, but he's as gooid. An' awm sure tha's a lot ov as fine childer as onnybody need set e'en on, an' if they are a bit wild, what can yo expect when ther's soa monny on 'em. But aw mun get these clooas dried wol ther's a bit o' druft. Wi' ta leean me that clooas prop o' thine agean?"
"Vaynus! What are ta dooin? Goa fetch that prop this minit, an' see 'at tha allus brings it when tha sees her weshin, withaat lettin her allus have to ax for it."
"Well, awm soa glad it worn't awr Alick 'at mashed that winder,"
"Soa am aw, awd rayther it had been one o' mi own bi th' hauf. What time does ta think tha'll ha done weshin?"
"Abaat four o'clock if awm lucky."
"Well, wi ta step across an' have a cup o' teah wi us?"
"Eea, aw dooant mind if aw do."
(A Yorkshire Sketch.)
Of all the seasons of the year,—that portion when winter treads upon the skirts of the retiring autumn, always seems to me to be most deeply fraught with sorrowful associations. A few short weeks before, one has beheld the year in stately pride, loaded with blessings, and adorned in nature's most luxurious garb, waters in silvery streams have lightly leaped and bounded in the shadow of the waving ferns,—and little flowers have nodded on the brink and peered into the crystal depths, as though in love with their reflected loveliness;—the little hills have decked their verdant breasts with floral gems, and the frowning crags have seemed to smile, and from their time-worn crevices have thrust some wandering weed, whose emerald tints have lent a soothing softness to the hard outline of their rugged fronts. The feathered songsters on untiring wing, have flitted in the sunny sky, pouring forth melodious sounds in thankfulness and joy, as though their little hearts were filled too full of happiness and overflowed in drops of harmony.
Light fleecy cloud's like floating heaps of down have sailed along the azure sky, casting their changing shadows on the earth, whilst sighing winds have whispered soothing songs amongst the rustling leaves, and ripened fruits have hung in tempting show their sun-burnt fronts, courting the thirsty lip, to tell us in their silent eloquence that the year has gained its prime.
Even when the ice-king reigns, and howlling storms drive with remorseless fury o'er the plains, or wreck their vengeance on the sturdy woods,—roaring amongst the pliant branches, and entwining around the knarled trunks, uprooting some as though in sport to show its giant strength. And the cascade which formerly leaped forth from sylvan nooks where the wild flowers half hid its source, and bathed themselves in the ascending mist,—now roaring down in sullied swollen force, bearing along the wrecks of summer beauties,—tumbling and hissing through its frost bordered bed,—growling in foaming rage around the rocks which here and there protrude their sullen face to check its mad career;—even this has much of majesty and beauty, and claims our admiration. But when some glories of the autumn yet remain, and e'er stern winter has usurped the sway,—one wide-wide field of death and desolation is all that's left for man to ponder over;—fading flowers, trembling and shrinking in the raw cold blast;—half naked trees, that day by day present a more weird aspect—fields still green, but stripped of every gem;—whilst still some russet warbler may be heard chirping in sorrow and distress, and heavy looking clouds anxious to screen the cheering ray, which now and then bursts forth with sickly smile, that seems like ill-timed mirth amongst the dead.
On such a time as this, and in the early Sabbath morning, might be seen a stalwart farmer strolling o'er the hills which command a view of the little but interesting village of Luddenden.
I do not think that the dreary look of decaying beauties had much effect upon him,—the pale blue smoke that issued from his mouth, in measured time, seemed to afford him every consolation. He evidently saw some one approaching in whom he was interested. Having satisfied himself that he was not mistaken, he began talking aloud:—
"Oi! that's him sure enough; nah whativer can owd Tommy want laumering over thease hills at this time o'th' morning? He's a queer chap, takkin him all i' all; an' still if ought should happen him aw doant know where they'd find his marrow; he's been th' same owd Tommy iver sin aw wor a lad, an' aw'm noa chicken nah—he said—stroking a few grey hairs, which, like a tuft of frosted grass, adorned his ruddy cheeks. Aw sud think he's saved a bit o' brass bi this time, for he wor allus a nipper; but he wor allus honest, an' it isn't ivery man yo meet i'th world 'at's honest; but aw doant think Tommy ud wrang ony body aght o'th' vally o' that;"—saying which, he snapped his finger and thumb together to denote its worthlessness.
A few minutes more and Tommy might be plainly seen slowly ascending the somewhat rugged road toward the spot where stood the farmer leaning against the wall awaiting him. I could not better occupy the time that intervenes than endeavour to picture the approaching traveller. His age I would not dare to guess, he might be 60, or he might be 90. He was a short thick-set man, and rather bent, but evidently more from habit than from weight of years. He wore a long blue coat which plainly spoke of years gone by, and bore in many places unmistakable evidence that Tommy was no friend to tailors; beneath this an old crimson plush waistcoat, that had long since done its duty, some drab knee-breeches, and a pair of dark grey stockings which hid their lower extremities in a pair of shoes about large enough to make two leather cradles; on his head a hat that scorned to shine, and in his hand he carried an oaken staff; his small grey eyes glistened with a spark of latent wit, whilst on his face was stamped in unequivocal characters some quaint originality.
"Gooid morning, Tommy," said the farmer.
"Gooid morning Dick," replied Tommy, "it's a nice day ower th' head but fearful heavy under th' fooit."
"You're reight," said Dick, "but where are yo trapesing to this morning?"
"Waw, aw'm gooin as far as Dick's o' Tom's at th' Durham, to get my tooa nails cut," said Tommy.
"Well, yo'll happen bait a bit and ha a wiff o' bacca wi' me, for its a long time sin aw saw yo afoor," said Dick.
"Waw, aw dooant mind if aw have a rick or two, but aw munnot stop long, for it luks rayther owercussen up i'th' element; but ha's that lad o' thine getting on sin he wed quiet Hannah lass? Aw've wondered sometimes if he wod'nt rue his bargain,—is shoo as fat as sho wor?"
"Eea, shoo keeps i' varry gooid order, shoo puts her mait into a better skin nor th' mooast; they didn't hit it soa well at th' furst, for shoo wor varry waspish, an' tha knows awr Joa's as queer as Dick's hatband, when he's put aght a bit. One morning, abaght a wick after they wor wed, Joa woran't varry weel, an' had to ligg i' bed a bit,—shoo gate up to muck th' beeas,—(for shoo can do a job like that, tha knows, when shoo's a mind.)"
"Eea! eea!" said Tommy, "noabody better,—shoo's a pair o' gooid end,—shoo's nooan afeared o' dipping her finger i' water, nut shoo."
"Well, aw tell thi, shoo gate up, an' in a while shoo call'd aght 'at his porridge wor ready when he liked to come daan, an' then shoo went aght. Soa in a bit, he gate up, an' th' pan wor stood o' th' rib flopping away rarely. Well, he gate a plate, an' thowt he'd tern' em aght to cooil, when asteead o' porrige, aght come th' dish claat slap on to his fooit;—talk abaght single step doncing!—tha should just ha seen him; he ommost lauped clean ower th' breead flaik;—an' thear shoo stood grinning at him throo th' winder, an' he wor soa mad—he wuthered th' pan fair at her head;—he miss'd his aim an' knock'd th' canary cage to smithereens, th' cat gate th' burd, an' th' pan fell into th' churn. Nah, what wod ta think ov a thing like that?"
"Waw, its just loike one ov her tricks;-tha knows shoo wor allus a trimmer o' one, Dick."
"Shoo wor, Tommy, an shoo allus will be to her deeing day. It put awr Joa into a awful passhian, but shoo didn't care a pin, shoo said shoo'd lived too long near a wood' to be fear'd ov a hullet,—but they're as reight as Dick and Liddy nah. Aw'll tell thi ha that happens. Tha knows, awr Joa allus thowt a deeal ov his mother, an he wanted th' wife to do i'th' same way; an one morning shoo' wor neighding th' dooaf, when Joa says, 'Mally', that isn't th' way to neighd, my mother allus 'used to do soa;'—an' he wor baan to show' haa; Shoo made noa mooar to do, but lauped into th' middle o'th' bowl wi' her clogs on, an' started o' traiding it wi' her feet, an' shoo says, 'does thi mother do soa?' After that, he let her have it mooastly to her own way, an' they seem to get on varry weel amang it nah—an' if he keeps steady they're putting it together nicely. An' what have yo fresh, Tommy?"
"Nay, nowt 'at means ought aw think, Dick—but aw'd like to been pooisened t'other wick, but as luck let, aw wor noa war."
"Pooisened! Tommy, nay, surelee nut."
"Yos, but aw had—tha sees aw live at th' Ee'Gurnard, an' aw'd just been into th' mistal wi' young maister William, an' he'd been holding th' canel for me whol aw siled th' milk, an' he wor full ov his marlocks an' bluzzed th' canel up mi nooas an' put it aght,—he's a shocker."
"Waw, Tommy, yo wodn't be pooisened wi' a canel, aw'll niver believe?"
"Noa, but as aw wor telling thi, aw'd been i'th' mistal, an' aw went into th' kitchen for a bit o' summat to ait. Aw saw some fat o'th' ooven top in a pot, soa aw gate some breead an' ait it up. Aw thowt it wor fearful gooid an' savored summat aw'd niver had afoor; but just when aw'd finished it, one o'th' young mistresses come daan an' axed me what aw'd done wi' what wor i'th' pot? Soa aw tell'd her aw'd etten it. Etten it!!' shoo skriked. 'Etten it!! Why,' shoo says, 'yo'll be pooisened, Tommy, its pumatum!' Well, aw says, 'pumatum or net, aw've etten it,'—an' away shoo ran an' browt th' maister an' th' mistress, an' all t'other fowk i'th' haase, an' rarely they laffed tha minds; but maister made me a glass o' rum to settle it, an' aw felt noa mooar on it."
"Well," said Dick, "tha mayn't feel it nah, but aw shouldn't be capped if thi inside wor to grow full o' ringlets."
"Niver heed that, they'll keep mi belly warm," said Tommy, "but th' bacca's done, soa aw mun be making mi way shorter. Gooid day, Dick."
"Gooid day, Tommy. Aw hope tha'll have a fine day for thi walk."
"Eea, eea, aw hope aw shall, but if it rains aw sholl'n't melt."
"Nooah, but its rayther coolish."
"It'll be warmer as it gets ooater, Dick. Gooid day."
And thus the two friends parted; each smiling at the quaint humor of the other;—the one to climb seven miles of rough and heavy road to get his toe nails cut, and the other to pay an early visit to his son, and rest his limbs, which by six days of willing toil had earned a Sabbath's rest. He walked slowly, musing as he went, and every now and again making audible the current of his thoughts.
"Its monny a long year sin aw saw owd Tommy before, an' it may be monny a long year before aw see his face agean; aw think owd Time must use him wi' a gentler hand nor he uses me. Aw remember th' first time aw saw him, he wor coming past th' churn milk Joan, wi' a lump o' parkin in his hand as big as awr ooven top; an' that wor th' day 'at Jenny an' me wor wed. It seems like a dream to me nah. Poor Jenny!—if there's a better place, tha'rt nooan soa far off thear!" And then he paused to wipe the heavy drops from off his cheeks. "Aw thowt aw'd getten ower this sooart o' thing, nah he sed, but aw believe aw niver shall. Its just five year come Easter sin aw laid her low, an awve niver been able to aford a grave stooan for her yet, but aw can find that bit o' rising graand withaat a mark, an prize it nooan the less. But its noa gooid freating abaght things we cannot help. Aw'll have another reek or two an' goa an' see awr Joa." So filling his little black clay pipe with the fragrant weed (which for convenience he carried loose in his waistcoat pocket), he puffed his cloud of incense in the air and hastened on to gain his journey's end. A walk of a few minutes brought him to the door of a low whitewashed farm-house, around which the cans were reared, ready to be filled with the morning's milk. He ventured in, (first carefully removing all the mire from his shoes, lest he should soil the nicely sanded floor,) and drawing up the old arm chair which shone like polished ebony,—he looked around the strange apartment. "Its a queer fancy (he said at last) at Mally should be soa fond o' pots,—what ther's mooar here nor what ud start a shop; it saves th' expense of slapdashing onyway." And he was right, for, from floor, to ceiling, and along the old oak beams, appeared one medley of crockery—pots of all sizes—cups and plates of all shapes and patterns were hung or reared against the wall until it was impossible to find another place where one might be displayed; and on the mantle shelf, a long array of china images of fortune-telling gipsies, guarded at each end by what was supposed to represent a dog—they might resemble dogs, but surely such a breed exists not now, for if there was a point about them to recommend, it was what Mally often said, "They ait nowt." In a short time both Joe and Mally made their apperance—health bloom on their cheeks, and with a hearty welcome prepared the morning's meal. A clean white cloth spread on as clean a table, the requisite pots, the fresh churned butter, and the wheaten bread was all that was displayed to tempt them to the meal; but it was all that was required, for appetite gave relish to the plain repast, and many a wealthy man in stately rooms, with every luxury around, might well have envied them their simple fare, sweetened by labor, and so well enjoyed—whilst savory meats, of which they never knew, in vain invited him whose satiated tastes loathed every dish. But the old farmer did not seem at ease, and when the meal was over—after a short conversation, he bade them both good day, and turned his steps towards his lonely home. Perhaps it was the son who called up in the old man's mind some thoughts of former days—or perhaps the train of thought he had indulged in previously might have laid a load of gloom upon him; but, be it as it may, he seemed inclined to spend the day under his own roof tree.
The winter came and spread its spotless snows o'er hills and dales; the wild winds wailed; the woodman's axe echoed amidst the woods; the song birds fled; the dauntless redbreast twittered on the window sills; the cawing rooks wended their weary way in solemn flight. The spring again, like a young bashful maid, came smiling upon old Winter's track; the field's looked gay again; and trees seemed vieing which could first be drest in verdant green. The Summer followed on, the sun shone o'er the fields of ripening grass; the mowers scythe was dipped in fragrant dews, and Flora bounteously bestowed her favorite flowers. Autumn succeeded, and once more the' eye was gladdened with the bearded grain, waving in golden splendour in the breeze;—again the luscious fruits are tempting one to pluck; and soon again the year,—weary with its labors, prepares to sleep, and desolation reigns.
'Tis Sunday morning, and the sun looks down through murky mists;—the ground is slightly hardened with the nipping frost; here and there some hardy flower endeavours to look gay:—the tolling bell rings out its morning call, and straggling groups wend their way to worship in the village church. But on the hill, which rises high above, was stood a man in deep and earnest thought. One could scarcely have believed that the pale, aged looking man, who dressed in sombre black was standing and looking over the quiet scene, was the stalwart farmer, who just one year before was holding converse with old Tommy;—but he begins to speak.
"Its just twelve months to day," he said, "sin aw wor talking to him o' this varry spot, an nah he's gooan, an awm left to attend his funeral: ther's nowt to feel sorry for 'at aw know on, but when an owd face is noa mooar, 'at one's been used to see—it tells a tale 'at's easy understood;—it leaves a gap i'th' world 'at's never shut—it bids us to prepare an reckon up awr life to see if all's as we could like it to be,—an' use what time's left to square accounts,—soa's when we're called to 'liver up, we may be ready. Jenny wor ready, an soa wor Tommy. It isn't ivery man yo meet i'th world 'at's honest."
If iver onybody had th' luck to get off th' wrang side o'th' bed ivery mornin, an' to allus be gettin into scrapes all th' day long, it 'wor Jack throo' th' Jumpels. It seemed as if some evil genius wor allus abaat makkin spooart on him. If he gate mezzured for a suit o' clooas, th' tailor wor sure to tak th' length ov his coit sleeves for his britches slops, or else mak 'em after another mezzur altogether; awther soa mich too big wol he luk'd like a wanderin bedtick seekin th' flocks, or else soa mich too little wol he used to send his arm's an' legs soa far throo, till yo'd fancy he'd niver be able to get 'em back. But wi' all his bad luck, an' i' spite o' all th' scrapes he gate into, he wor a varry gooid-hearted chap, an' iverybody 'at knew him gave him a gooid word. He went to see a hont o' his one day, an' he'd donned his best duds, an' he couldn't help thinkin as he wor gooin whether be should be able to keep aght ov a mess or net, an' as he knew his hont wor a varry particlar body, he detarmined to do his varry best. When he gate to th' door he saw' at shoo'd nobbut just scarr'd th' steps, an' he luk'd at his feet an' thowt it wod be a pity to put sich mucky booits on to sich nice wark, soa he went raand to th' back yard; but when he gate thear th' door wor fesand, soa he thowt th' best plan wod be to climb over th' wall, for as it wor th' middle o'th' day, an' all th' fowk i'th' tother haases could see what wor gooin' on, he knew shoo'd niver forgive him for callin her aght if shoo didn't happen to be weshed an' tidied; soa up he climbed, an' as it wor twice as deep o'th' tother side he worn't disappointed to see a big tub just standin nicely ready to step on to; soa ovver he jumpt, an' as might be expected, th' top gave way, an' he varry sooin fan hissen up to th' middle i' pig-mait. But he nawther stamped nor sware nor made a din like mooast fowk wod ha' done—for he'd getten soa use to messes o' one sooart an' another wol he'd begun to tak 'em as a matter o' cooarse.
"Well, here's another bit o' my luk," he sed; "this is another mullock aw've getten into, soa aw mun get aght on it someway; it's noa use freeatin' abaat what cannot be helped, an' ther's one consolation, it mud ha' been war." Just as he wor scramlin' aght, his hont coom to see what wor to do, but shoo didn't fly into a pashon as yo might fancy. "Hallo, Jack!" shoo says, "aw thowt it must be thee; tha's dropt in for it another time, has ta?"
"Eea, aw reckon aw have, but if aw havn't spoilt th' swill aw dooant care."
"Oh, aw'll forgie thi that, lad; tha's'made a nice pictur o' thisen, reight enuff; aw could just like thi fottagraff takkin nah, but come thi ways in."
"Nay, hont aw'll nooan come in i' this state; aw'll call agean some other day, for awst mak nowt but muck."
"Niver heed th' muck; come thi ways in, for tha lukes like a hauf-draand ratten; tha'll catch thi deeath o' cold if tha hasn't summat warm. Come in an doff them clooas, an' aw'll see if aw connot find some o' thi uncles 'at'll fit thi wol thine's fit to put on agean. Aw niver did see sich a mess i' all my life. Th' idea ov a chap fallin' up to' th' middle in a swill-tub!"
"Why, its net varry nice, reight enuff, but it mud ha' been war, hont."
"Aw wonder ha," shoo sed.
"Why, if aw'd gooan ovver th' heead."
"Well, that wodn't ha' made, things ony better, truly; but th' next time 'at tha'rt comin' ovver that way just let me know, an' aw'll have that tub aght o'th' gate. Goa thi ways into th' chamer an' change them stinkin' things, an' then come an' sit thi daan an' let's tawk to thi a bit, an' see if aw can get ony sense aght on thi, for aw'm sure nubdy can put ony in."
"All serene," sed Jack, an he went an' changed his clooas, an' when he'd getten donned afresh he coom daan stairs an' sat daan i'th' arm-cheer beside th' fire. "Yea-a-aw! yea-a-aw!" went summat, an' up he sprang as if th' cheer-bottom wor redwoot. "A'a, tha gurt gaumless fooil!" sed his hont, "couldn't ta see a cat an' three kittens? Aw do believe tha's killed 'em ivery one! Poor little things!" Nay, nay, aw niver did see sich a thing i' all my life! tha's killed 'em all three, an' it's a wonder tha hasn't killed th' old cat an' all. Dear-a-me, aw did intend draandin 'em to-morn, an' to think 'at they should be squeezed to deeath this way, Aw shalln't get ovver it for monny a day."
"Well, aw'm varry sooary, hont; but aw niver saw' em, iw'm sure. Whoiver expected to find a cat an' three kittens in a arm-cheer? But let's be thankful, for it mud ha' been war."
"Nay, net it! it couldn't ha' been war nor it is: tha's killed em, an' tha couldn't do ony moor if tha'd to try." "Well, but aw mud ha' killed th' old cat as weel, yo know."
"What does ta say? Killed awr Tibby? Tha'd better keep thi heels this rooad as long as iver tha lives nor think o' sich a thing, for aw browt her up wi a spooin throo being blind, an' aw wodn't swap her for all th' cats i'th' world. An' if it had been anybody else nor thee 'at had done this, they'd ha' heeard a bit o' my tongue, aw con tell thi; but, haiver, it is as it is, soa sit thi daan. Tha's noa need to luk soa jaylus, mun, ther's nowt under thi nah but a wish in; tha luks as white as a gooast; aw expect tha's getten thi deeath o' cold, but aw'll get thi a sup o' whiskey, an' see if that'll warm thi a bit."
Shoo went to th' cubbard an' browt aght a bottle, an' put it onto th' table, teld him to help hissen. "Tha's noa need to be flaid on it," shoo sed, "it's some o'th' reight sooart; it's what thi uncle allus taks when he ails owt, an' aw believe if th' time iver comes when a sup o' that willn't cure him, it'll be a case o' curran cake an slow walkin: for aw believe its saved his life manny a scoor times already, an' it's a deeal cheeaper nor doctor's physic."
Jack tem'd some into a glass an gate a gooid swig; an' if yo could ha' seen his face yo'd niver ha' done ony moor gooid. If it had been stricknine he couldn't ha' pooled a faaler mug. "What's th' matter," shoo says, "is it to strong?"
"Aw dooant know whether it's to strong or net," he said, "but it's aght ov a different tap to what aw'm used to; just yo taste, an' lets see ha yo like it."
"It's thi maath 'at's aght o' order, mun; it's a drop o' old Slicer's best, an' aw'm sure ther's noa better to be getten abaat this quarter. Aw dooant reckon to tak owt to sup misen," shoo sed, "but aw'll just taste wi' thi."
"Eea, do, sup it up, aw'm sure tha'rt welcome, for aw've had enuff."
Shoo gate a drop into her maath, but it coom aght agean sharper nor it went in; aw thowt her heart ud come up. "A'a dear! a'a dear!" shoo says, "it's Harryget watter! it's Harryget watter! aw've made a t'mistak!' aw've made a mistak! but it's just thi luck."
"Eea, aw expected yo'd say soa; it's allus put daan to my luck, whether it's my mistak or somdy else's; but it mud ha' been war."
"Thear, tha'rt at it agean; aw believe if it h'ad been pooisen tha'd say soa; but, here, sithee, try this bottle; aw fancy tha'll find this'll run daan better nor th' last." Soa he made hissen a drop, an' after tawkin' a bit abaat ha things wor gooin on in a reglar way, he axed if his uncle wor varry weel.
"Yos, he's varry weel, aw think; at ony rate, he wor all, reight when he left here at braikfast time. Aw'm just gettin his dinner ready, an' tha con tak it him if tha's a mind; tha'll find him up i'th' brickfield yonder, doom summat at th' old well."
Jack sed he'd be glad to goa, for he wanted to see him befoor he went back, soa as sooin as all wor ready he set off an' went towards th' well, but befoor he gate up to it he 'heeard his uncle shaatin an' bawlin an' gooin on as it he wor mad. "What's to do, uncle?" he sed as sooin as he gate up to him, "whativer's to do?"
"Do! it's enuff to drive me cracked, aw do declare! Here have aw had a lot o' chaps leadin watter to this old well for monny an' monnya day, so as we can pump it as we want it into that long field, an' aw'm blowed if summat hasn't getten to th' valve or summat, an' ther willn't a drop come."
"Why what will yo have to do nah!" sed Jack.
"Do I what can aw do? Ther's nowt for it nah but for somdy to goa daan an' set it reight, an' aw'm far to old for sich a job'."
"If that's all," sed Jack, "aw think aw con scrammel daan that pipe; ha deep is is it?"
"It's nobbut abaat fifty feet, an' ther's a gooid flange to rest on at ivery two yards, but aw hardly dar let thi try, for tha maks si'ch a mess o' iverything."
"Dooant yo freeat abaat that; aw'll goa daan, just see."
"Well, mind what tha'rt dooin', for ther's a gooid deeal o' watter in nah." Jack began to slide daan, one length at a time, an in a bit he called aght "all reight."
"C'an ta raik th' valve," sed his uncle.
"Eea, but aw cannot stir it unless yo send me a hammer daan."
"Well, stop thear wol aw fotch one, an' aw'll lower it daan wi' a bit o' band." An' away he ran to th' bottom o'th' next held for a hammer. He'd getten abaaf hauf way daan, when up comes another looad o' watter, drawn bi two horses, an' two men wi' em.
"This'll be my last looad to-day, Jeffry," sed one to his mate.
"An' aw'm glad on it," sed Jeffry; "aw wonder if th' gaffer's getten th' valve altered yet; he wor sayin' summat abaat it when aw coom wi' th' last barrel."
"Aw can't say, aw'm sure; but another barrelful can't mak soa mich difference, whether he has or net, soa here goas." As sooin as he sed that, he knocked a gurt bung aght o'th' back o'th' barrel, an a stream as thick as mi leg began paarin daan th' well. It wor a gooid job for Jack 'at he happened to be claspin his arms raand th' pipe, for if he hadn't he'd ha' been swum ovver th' heead, an' noa mistak; an' as it wor, he could hardly get a bit o' breeath, for th' watter seemed to spreead aght like a sheet, an drive all th' air aght. He did try to shaat once or twice, but it wor noa use, for th' watter made sich a din wol nubdy could hear him.
It didn't tak th' uncle aboon three or four minits to fotch th' hammer, an' as he war comin with it he saw this wattercart bein emptied into th' well, an' his heart gave ovver beeatin for abaat a minit; then he set up sich a shaat, an' ran at sich a speed, wol th' chaps wondered what could be to do. "Hold on!" he sed, "for goodness sake, hold on! Didn't yo know 'at my neffy wor i'th' well?" "Noa bi th' heart did we!" an' th' barrel wor bunged up in a crack, an' th' uncle bawled daan th' well as laad as he could, "Jack, if tha'rt draanded spaik! He's deead sure enuff," he said; "one on yo goa daan an' see if yo con bring up his body." Just then coom a saand o' summat knockin th' pipe at th' bottom, an' th' uncle called aght, "Jack, whear are ta?"
"Aw should think yo've a gooid nooation whear aw am," sed Jack, "aw've managed th' job, soa nah aw'm comin up; luk aght an' give me a lift." As sooin as his heead wor within th' raich ov his uncle's fist, he collared hold ov his toppin, an niver let goa agean wol he stood o' safe graand. "By gow, Jack, tha's given me a shock; awst be some time afoor aw get ovver this; tha owt to manage better nor soa; it's like as if ivery thing tha touches tha maks a mess on it."
"That's reight, uncle, lig it o' me! But aw wonder whether yo or me gate th' mooast ov a shock. Aw should fancy it wor me."
"Well, reight enuff, lad, it wor'nt a nice place to be in, an' that suit o' clooas 'll niver be fit to be seen agean."
"Noa, aw dooant think they will," sed Jack; "but it mud ha' been war, for they arn't mine."
"Why, whoa's are they? aw thowt as tha coom up 'at tha luk'd varry respectable."
"Aw dooant know whoa's ther reightful owner, uncle, but mi hont has lent 'em me to put on wol mine gate dried, for, yo know, aw've been i'th' swill-tub once today."
"Why, then, that's my best Sundy suit 'at tha's gooan an spoiled! aw wonder 'at thi hont had noa moor sense nor to leean 'em to thee."
"Aw wonder aw'd noa moor sense nor to goa daan that well to spoil 'em, for it's nooan a nice hoil to be in, an' when aw've a shaar-bath, aw'd rayther have it withaat onybody's clooas."
"Well, let's lig away, an' get hooam as fast as we can, for thi hont'll mak a noise aw'll bet, soa we mud as weel get it ovver as sooin as possible."
They went hooam an' tuk th' uncle's dinner back wi 'em, an' as sooin as shoo saw Jack shoo rested her neives on her huggens, an lukkin at him throo heead to fooit sed, "What's ta been doin nah; can't ta stur withaat gettin into a scrape?"
"Well it seems net, for if aw dooant get into a mess misen, ther's somdy gets me into one."
"Tha'll keep me dryin cloas for thee, aw can see that; but goa upstairs an' put on thi own duds, an' awl see if aw can fettle them up at tha has on."
"Awm sooary to give yo soa mich trouble, but then it mud ha been war, if awd gooan daan an' niver come up."
"Tha'd ha been noa loss, lad, tha needn't think; but luk as sharp as tha con, for aw've begun to get th' teah ready."
"Awl net be long," he sed, an' wol he wor changin his clooas th' uncle tell'd her all 'at had happen'd, on shoo laff'd wol her face wor as red as a turkey cock.
When Jack coom daan th' table wor set an' all ready for th' teah, an' th' uncle an' hont had takken ther places at th' table.
"Come sit thi daan," sed his hont; "but before tha does, just hand me th' tea pot off th' rib; an' mind, for th' hanel's hot."
"Awl mind," he sed; an' as he began to think he'd had mishaps enuff for one day, he thowt he'd steer clear ov ony moor, an' soa as he'd been wan'd th' hanel wor hot, he tuk hold o'th' spaat, an' he'd hardly getten a yard away throo th' fire wi' it, when a streeam o' boilin teah began to run daan th' inside ov his jacket sleeve; but he held on like a man, an' he wor detarmined he'd land it on to th' table, soa he ran wi' it an' bang'd it into th' middle o'th' tea things, smashin cups an' saucers an' upsettin th' sugar basin an' th; creeam jug, an' makkin sich a mash as yo niver saw.
Up jumpt booath hont and uncle. "Just luk at my yollo satin dress," sed his hont; "it'll niver be fit to be seen agean!"
"If tha doesn't tak thysen aght o' this haase," sed his uncle, "awl pawse thi aght, for tha's made moor bother sin tha coom in nor enuff."
But poor Jack wor sufferin badly, which his hont (woman like) noa sooiner saw nor shoo forgave him all th' damage he'd done, an' went to sympathise with him. His arm wor varry badly scalded, an' soa shoo put some traitle an' flaar on it, an' lapp'd it up, an' then he sed he thowt it wor time he trudged hooam. "Aw wish tha'd trudged long sin," sed his uncle, "an' if tha doesn't come here agean wol aw send for thi, tha willn't come yet a bit."
Jack gate his hat an' wor just gooin aght, when they discovered 'at it wor rainin varry fast. "Awl leean thi a umberella," said his hont, "but aw dooant think awst iver see it agean, but as tha's been wet throo twice to-day aw think tha's had baat enuff."
He took th' umberella an' went to th' door, an' they follow'd him to bid him gooid day.
He shoved th' umbrella under his arm, an' held aght his hand, "Gooid bye hont, wol aw see yo agean." "Confaand thy stupid heead!" shaated aght th' uncle.
"What's up nah?" sed Jack.
"Can't ta see? Tha's shoved th' end o' that umberella stick reight into mi e'e."
"Why, awm varry sooary," sed Jack, "but it mud ha' been war!"
"Ha could it ha' been war, softheead?"
"Why if awd shoved it into' em booath," sed Jack as he hooked it, for he thowt he'd better be goin.
Whether he landed hooam withaat ony moor mishaps or net aw cannot say; but varry likely net. But aw think, we've follow'd him far enuff for once, an' yo can form yor own opinion ov what sooart ov a chap he wor, but altho we're inclined to laugh at sich a chap, yet they've happen as mich wisdom as some 'at think they've moor; an' a chap's moor to be envied nor pitied 'at can console hissen wi' thinkin 'at haiver bad things are, 'at they mud hai been war.
Respectfully dedicated to my ill-used long-eared friend,
Neddy Bray
Some fowk choose one thing, some another,
To grace ther prose or rhyme;
Some sneerin say 'at tha'lot my brother,
Maks me choose thee for mine;
Well, let 'em sneer owd Neddy lad,
Or laff at my selection,
Who fail to see ther type i' thee
Are void o' mich perception.—
Ther's things more stupid nor an ass,
An things more badly treated,
Tho' we ait beef, an' tha aits grass,
May be we're just related.
Throo toil an' trouble on tha jogs,
An' then like ony sinner,
Tha dees, an' finds a meal for th' dogs;—
We furnish th' worms ther dinner.
Deemas an' 'Becka used to keep th "Cock an' Bottle," i' awr street. They'd lived thear iver sin th' haase wor built, an' won iverybody's gooid word, at worn't particlar abaght a sup o' drink. One day they sent aght invitashuns to all ther neighbors an' friends to come to a tea drinkin. Niver mind if ther wornt a rumpus i' that district! Th' chaps winked when they met one another, an' said "Aw reckon tha'll be at yond doo?" "Aw mean to be nowt else," they'd reply; an' away they'd trudge i' joyful anticipation of a reight spree!
But th' women! Hi! that's it! It's th' women 'ats th' life an' soul ov a jollificashun yet. They wor buzzin aght o' one door into another just like a lot o' bees, to see what soa an soa wor gooin in. "What sooart ov a bonnet art ta baan in Zantippa?" said Susan Stooanthrow; (or rayther aw should, say, Miss Stooanthrow, for shoo reckoned hersen th' lady o'th ginnel).
"Well, aw've nut made up mi mind yet," shoo says; "but aw have thowt aw should goa, aw hardly know ha'; but what does ta think o' gooin in?"
"Well, aw suppooas it's ta be a varry spicy affair, soa aw have thowt aw should goa i' full dress. Yo' see, being a single woman, an' rayther a stylish shape, aw think it 'ud just suit me. What do yo' think?"
"Just the varry ticket, lass! Tha' couldn't do better! For, as aw've mony a time said to Betty Wagstang, ther's noabody con mak up a moor lady-liker appearance nor what tha con, when tha's a mind! But talkin' abaght Betty, has ta seen that new cap o' hers?"
"Do yo' mean that shoo bowt up th' street t'other wick?"
"Th' same! Did ta iver see onybody luk sich a flaycrow i' all thi life? Her heead reminds me ov a gurt pickled cabbage. Shoo doesn't keep up her colour wi' nowt, tha may depend on't. Awther shoo can mak brass goa farther nor other fowk, or else summat else; but they tell me 'at thers nut mony shopkeepers abaght here but what has her name daan ofter nor they like. But that's noa business o' mine."
"Aw shouldn't be at all apprised at that, for aw've heeard fowk say 'at her family wor allus fond o' summat to sup afoor shoo wor born, an' they niver had a gooid word at th' shops. Is she gooin' ta be at this swarry?
"At this what does ta say, Susy?"
"Aw said swarry, some fowk call it sooary. It means a pairty like yo' know; it's th' French for a sooart ov a dooment, that's all."
"Oh, well, awm sooary to say 'at booath her an' her felly gate a invite, but tha knows we've noa need ta mix up wi' sich like unless we've a mind. Aw'm capt whativer made Becka ax her, for ther's hardly a woman i'th ginnel but what had leever goa a' mile another rooad nor meet her; but aw declare shoo's comin' sailin' daan like a fifty-gun ship! Talk abaght owd Nick, an' he'll show his horns."
"Well, Zantippa I aw do declare shoo is! Soa we mun stand it aght, but aw shall be varry reverse i' my talk, yo'll see."
"Gooid morning, lasses!" said Betty, burstin' in. "Aw thowt awd just come daan to see what yo' thowt o' doing abaght this doo at th' Cock." "Are ta baan Susy?"
"Yes, aw expect soa, for aw received a 'billy duck' the t'other day, a askin' ov me to be present, if nothing didn't interspect my 'rangements no otherwise."
"Why, Susy! hang it up! sin' tha began o' dressmakin' an' wearin' thi hair like th' Empress Uginny, wi' all them twists an' twines, aw con hardly tell what tha means. Are ta studdyin' for a skooilmistress?"
"Nut exactualy, but yo' see aw' begun to talk a bit moor propperer; for when aw've to do wi' th' quality fowk, gooid talk an' a gooid redress is one o'th requirations 'at yo' connot disperse wi'; but aw mun goa mi departure, for aw've soa mich to execute afoor neet, woll awm fair consternationed when aw think on it,—for aw've noabody to help me nah, for my 'prentice has to stop at hooam wi' her fayther."
"Ho, eea! Why, what's th' matter wi' him, is he badly?"
"He is; for he hurt his leg a month or two sin', an' he's had to goa to th' infirmary to get it anticipated."
"Why, whativer's that, Susy?"
"To get it cut off, yo' know. But aw munnot stop, soa, gooid day."
An away Susy flew daan th' ginnel, famously suited wi' th' way shoo'd capt 'em wi' her scholarship.
"Well, if iver aw saw sich a flybysky as yond Susy i' all my life, aw'll niver be trusted. Guy, hang it! shoo mud be as handsome as wax work, shoo thinks soa mich ov her' sen! But aw fancy shoo'll ha' to dee an owd maid, for its nooan her sooarts 'at fellies wants. It's all varry weel to sit nigglin' away wi' a needle an' threed, stickin' bits o' poasies into cap screeds, an' stich in' mooinshine, but when a chap wants a wife, he wants somdy 'at con brew, an' bake, an' scaar th' floor. Why, aw could whip raand hauf a duzzen sich like to my thinkin'! An' when aw see her screwin' up her maath an' dutchin, an' settin' her cap at ivery chap shoo sees, it maks mi blooid fair boil in me; an' awm sure, if ther is a young chap abaght, shoo's wor nor a worm ov a whoot bakstull. Odd drott it! it caps me 'at fowk should have noa moor sense nor ax sich like to a party. But ha are ta off for clooas Zantippa? Con ta leean me a under coit? Aw've all else ready."
"Nay lass, aw connot; for th' last doo 'at aw wor at aw had to borrow one o' Susy. Aw've getten one nah, but aw'st want it.'
"Aw wonder if Susy 'ud leean it me," said Betty, "Aw hardly like to ax her, for tha sees aw didn't give her the job o' makin' yond cap Tha's seen mi new cap, hasn't ta?"
"Eea! aw saw thi have it on t'other day."
"Well, it's what aw call a nobby un; but awd better net waste ony time, soa aw'll goa an' see if Susy 'll leean me yond coit. Shoo can nobbut say noa." An' away went Betty.
'An' it's to be hooapt shoo will say' Noa, 'for if tha gets it, shoo'll ha' to luk sharp if iver shoo sees th' edge on it agean,' said Zantippa "Aw'd leean thee nowt unless awd made up mi mind to pairt wi' it. Aw dooan't mak' mich o' Susy, but shoo's worth a barrow-looad sich like as thee. Bith heart! tha'd ma' a daycent looad for a barrow thisen! An' if all's true aw've heeard, it's nut long sin' tha' wor one, an' had a bobby for a cooachman. But that's nowt ta me He! gow! it's turned o' twelve o'clock, an' my chap an' th' childer ul be here to ther dinner! Consarn it! Aw hate to live amang a lot o' gossippin' fowk sich as ther is abaght here, noabody con get to do owt. Be hanged, if th' fire isn't aght! an' aw expect it'll tak' me as long ageean to leet it, coss a'wm in a hurry. There's niver nowt done reight when a body's in a fullock. Aw wish ther tea drinkins wor far enuff. Aw'd rayther sail across th' salt seea nor be put i' sich a mooild as this. Yond's th' bell! An' they'll be here in a minnit! A'a dear! A woman's wark is niver done!"
"Aw think it niver is done, bi'th luk on it!" said Dick, as he stept into th' haase. "Ha' is it thers noa dinner ready? It's as ill as th' weshin' day, or else war!"
"Dinner! tha may weel ax abaght th' dinner," said Zantippa, "doesn't ta see 'at th' place is ful o' reik? Aw dooan't know what tha means to do, but if we connot have that chimley altered aw know one 'ats baan to flit."
"Why, aw niver knew it smook'd afoor; but this fire's nobbut just lit."
"What's ta been dooin' baght fire?"
"Fire? does ta want me to be smoord? It's grand for yo' 'at con walk aght to yo're wark as sooin as yo' get up, an' just come in to yo're meals an' aght ageean, but yo' niver think o' what's to come o' me 'ats ta tew amang it throo morn ta neet."
"Why lass, ha' is it 'at it niver smooks ov a Sunday?"
"Ha con I tell? tha mun ax it! Can't one o' yo' childer get th' bellus an' blow a bit, or are yo' baan to stand thear wi' yo're fingers i' yo're maath woll aw fair drop? But it'll nut allus be soa, yo'll get me ligg'd low some day, an' then yo'll have ta shift for yoursen."
After a gooid deal o' botherin' an' grummelin', an' a varry deal o' wangin' th' cubbord doors, an' clatterin' th' pots abaght, Zantippa managed to mak' a sup o' coffee an' butter a bit o' bread. Dick didn't like this, but as he saw his wife wor th' wrang side aght, he thowt, for th' sake o' peace, he'd say nowt; soa he swallow'd his coffee an' cake (if nut wi' thankfulness, at least i' quietness), an' then him an' th' childer budged off.
"Thear!" said Zantippa, as shoo watched 'em aght o'th seet, "Aw've managed that varry weel. Aw wod'nt ha' let him know for all th' brass i'th bank 'at aw'd been talkin' woll aw'd letten th' fire goa aght. Aw do hooap 'at ther'll nut a wick soul come an' bother me agean to-day, for aw've niver had time to tak' th' cowks up yet, an' aw've all th' stockins ta mend' at should ha' been done last wick, an' aw know Dick hasn't a button left on his halliday shirt, it's time somdy stirred thersen. Aw dooant know ha' fowk manage 'ats allus gaddin' abaght, aw declare if aw ammut' allus slavin' at it, aw connot keep things nowt-bit-like straight. Drabbit it! ('at aw should say sich a word) ther's Betty comin' agean! Aw'd rayther be stranspoorted to Botny Bay nor be as aw am. Ther's hardly a minnit but what ther's somdy o' th' doorstun!"
Betty coom in smilin' all over her face. "Nah!" shoo says, "aw've managed, an' aw've come ta see if tha'll goa wi' us, for Susy's baan up th' street to buy a staylace, an' aw thowt aw'd just goa an' get th' stink blown off, for aw've cawered i' this yard woll aw'm feear'd awst grow maald. Put thi bonnet on, an' goa wi' us, we'st be back i' gooid time."
"Aw could like to goa, but aw've soa mich to do woll aw hardly dar, for woll aw wor talkin' to thee an' Susy this fornooin, th' fire went aght, an' when Dick an' th' childer coom hooam ther wornt a bit o' dinner for 'em."
"Well, awm capt, 'at tha'll bother wi' cookin' 'em dinners. Aw allus let awrs tak' ther jock wi' em, it saves a deal o' trouble, an' aw say a woman's wark enuff, shoo haddles owt shoo gets, an' if we dunnot luk aght for ussen noabody else will for us. But please thisen, if tha doesn't tha darn't."
"Oh! as to that, aw dar goa, but aw've nowt to goa for, an' lots o' wark at hooam. Aw think aw'd rayther nut."
"Well, tha'll get noa better on for cawering ith' haase like a moldwarp. But aw mun goa, for Susy's waitin'." Away went Betty, an' Zantippa ommost rued 'at shoo hadn't goan too: but it wor nobbut for a minit, for shoo teed her apron string a bit tighter, tuck'd up her sleeves, pooled in a long breath, an' as shoo said, "began ta make a sidashun."
Nah, if iver yo' want a chap to study a bit, an' resolve to mend his ways, let him be quiet; but if iver yo' want a woman to start o' thinkin' an' resolvin', let her have summat to do. If a woman sits quiet shoo begins to mump. Aw niver hardly met a woman 'at could sit daan quietly for five minits withaat sighin' two or three times; they think an' think, an' sigh, an' shake ther heeads, an' if they're let alooan they manage to wark thersen inta a bad temper abaght summat, but what that is, aw've never met one 'at could tell. Zantippa didn't sit daan an' mump, but up stairs shoo went an' made th' beds, an' a rare shakin' they gat, for shoo wor just ful o' summat an' shoo mud vent her feelins someway.
Women have a deal better way o'managin' that sooart o' thing nor what men have. Ther are times when we're all brimful o' summat, th' steam's up, an' if we connot find a safety valve we shall brust. Nah, a woman drives up to th' elbows i'th' weshin' tub, or rives all th' carpets up, or pools all th' pots aght o'th' cubboard an' puts 'em back agean. Shoo lets her tongue have full liberty, an' what wi' talkin', an' sweatin', an' scrub bin', an' brushin', shoo finds hersen reight daan tired, an' after a bit ov a wesh an' snoddenin' her toppin', shoo sits daan to her knittin' or sewin', as cooil as a cucumber, an' as ful o' gooid natur as an egg's ful o' mait, an' her een sparkle wi' pleasure, like dewdrops sparkle on a rose in a summer's mornin'. But wi' a chap it's different, nine times aght o' ten he flies to th' ale pot, or else he begins growlin' at hooam. "Th' tea's hot," or "th' muffin's cold," or "th' butter's wor nor cart grease." "Th' childer's noisy," or "th' wife's quiet," an' noa matter what's done for him it's all wrang. Sometimes bi th' way ov a change, he'll pawse th' table ower, an' braik as mony pots as it'll tak a gooid part ov a week's wage to replace, an' at last, after makin' iverybody abaght him miserable, he'll goa to bed lukin' as black as a mule an' sleep woll mornin', when (unless he's ova bad sooart) he'll feel reight daan shamed ov hissel, an' set to wark to put things reight agean. Nah, Zantippa wor just i' one o' these moods; an' shoo made th' beds, coom daan stairs, an' weshed all th' pots, scaled th' fire an' took the ass aght, gave th' hearthstun another dooas o' idleback, scattered a bit ov fresh sand o' th' floor, an' after weshin' hersen, an' donin' a clean print dress, shoo laid th' table ready for th' teah, gate th' kettle onto th' rib, an' sat daan wi' her bag ful o' worset an' a heap o' stockins, an', as shoo luk'd raand shoo felt as pleased as Punch to see what a difference shoo'd been able ta mak in an haar or two. "Aw'm nooan sooary 'at aw stopt at hooam," shoo said to hersen. "Aw know Dick'll be suited when he sees all fettled up, an' if aw get theas stockins done ta neet the'll be aght o'th gate. Aw wonder ha it wor 'at he tuk things sooa quietly this nooin; aw dooant think it's reight when a chap's been work in' iver sin six o'clock ov a mornin' for him to come hooam an' find noa dinner ready. Reight enuff, a woman's plenty to do to follow her haase, an' cook, an' mend, but if ther wor noa wage comin' in, ther'd be less cookin' an' moor mendin', aw've a noation. Aw've made up mi mind woll aw've been sidin' up 'at aw'll nut waste mi time as aw have done, talkin' an' gossippin', for ther's noa gooid comes on it, an' altho' aw want to keep thick wi' mi neighbors, aw'm determined aw'll chop that sooart o' thing off at once; for my mother used to tell me, 'If ther were noa listeners, ther'd be noa taletellers;' an' th' time 'at one spends is war nor wasted, for it oft leads ta 'fendin' an' provin', for them 'at come an' tell yo summat abaght somdy else will just as sooin tell somdy else summat abaght yo. An' luk what scrapes one gets into wi' it. Nah, aw made Dick believe 'at th' chimley smookd, that wor a lie to say th' least on it, an' he'll be sure ta noatice 'at it doesn't smook ta-neet, but if he names it aw'll tell th' truth, for, aw'm sure noa gooid comes o' lying."
When Zantippa had just made this resolve, th' door opened, an' Dick au' three childer coom in throo th' miln. He saw th' difference in a minnit. "Wipe them clogs," he said as th' childer wor walkin' in. "Tha's been fettlin' a bit, lass, aw think. Are ta baan to ax some o'th' neighbors to ther drinkin'?"
"Noa!" shoo says, "aw'm baan to ax noabody but thee an' th' childer. Does ta want me to ax somdy?"
"Nay, nooan soa! Aw'd as gooid as promised to goa as far as 'Th' Cock' ta neet, to talk ovver this bit ov a doo, but aw think aw'll stop at hooam, what says ta?" Zantippa smiled, nay even blushed, shoo knew what he ment an' shoo felt pleased. It wor a bit ov a compliment, an' paid her for all her trouble.
"Please thisen," shoo said, as shoo poured aght a cup o' teah for him, an' lifted a pile o' tooast aght o' th' oven, "but aw think th'rt as weel at hooam."
"Well, an' aw think aw'm better," he said, as he luk'd raand, "aw think th' chimley doesn't smook as ill as it did, does it?"
Shoo hung her heead, an' stooped ta pick a pin off th' floor, but shoo couldn't find one, an' when shoo luk'd up ther een met. Shoo didn't spaik, nor moor did he; it worn't needed. It wor a long time sin they'd sich a comfortable teah, an' when they'd done they sat some time at th' table i' silence. Ha' long they might have sat aw connot tell, hadn't th' door oppened, an' Betty come runnin' in wi' a pot to beg a sup o' hot watter, for shoo said "Her chap had coom hooam, an' shoo'd been rayther longer nor shoo expected, an' he wor playin' th' varry hangment for his drinkin'."
Shoo gate her hot water, an' went away. Dick luk'd at his wife, an' takkin' howd ov her hand, said, "Aw'm glad 'at tha hasn't to goa seekin' hot water, an' aw hooap tha niver may have."
"Aw hooap nut," shoo said, an' sat daan evidently varry ill set ta see her stockins. Nah, what a little con make fowk happy or miserable. Dick wor as content as a king, becoss all th' haas wor tidy. He saw at somdy had been tryin' to mak' him comfortable; an shoo wor as delighted as if shoo'd getten a fortin left, becoss what shoo'd done had suited him.
When th' childer had getten all put ta bed, Dick said, "Lass, aw've been thinkin' 'at aw dooant care soa mich abaght gooin to this teadrinkin' for aw've a noation 'at we connot goa ta th' tea withaat stoppin' an' spendin' a lot o' brass at after, an' aw've heeard thee say as thar't fast for some flannel. Nah, if we stop at hooam an' spend th' brass o' what it is tha wants, it'll do us moor gooid nor th' ale, what says ta?"
"Just thee please thisen, Dick. Aw had thowt o' gooin, but as tha says it's sure to cost summat, an' awr Billy wants some new clogs, for yond tak watter varry ill, an' aw dooant know what we could do better wi' th' brass, an' aw think we con have as comfortable a teah at hooam."
"Aw'm sure, an' moor soa, an' as tha's decided nut to goa, aw'll tell thi ov a marlock some o'th' chaps has been playin' but tha munnat split, for it hasn't to get aght woll after th' pairty. Tha knows Hungary at works wi' us?"
"Does ta meean him 'at once ait a pailful o' draff?"
"Th' same chap! An' he declared 'at if he gate aside o'th steaks at this doo, he'd polish th' lot (an' aw believe he can ait owt less nor a bullock), soa some o'th chaps made it up 'at he should have a dish to his own cheek; but they'd ta be donkey steaks—for owd Labon ('at hawks cockles an' mussels) had let his donkey catch cold or summat, at ony rate it dee'd, an' soa they thowt if they could get some steaks off that they'd just come in, but they knew 'at owd Labon had rayther part wi' his heead nor let onybody mell o'th donkey, for he thowt as mich on it as if it wor a Christian. But they determined to scheme some way to get it, soa Joe Longfooit offered to go into th' yard where it wor, an' cut off one hinder leg an' tak it hooam ta cook, if Sam Sniggle 'ud watch aght to see 'at noabody coom. Labon kept his donkey, tha knows, in a place at th' top o'th long stepses, an' used ta goa raand th' back rooad wi' it, soa one dinner time they'd watch'd Labon aght o'th' yard, (where he'd been standin' rubbin' his een, an' strokin' his owd favourite,) an' when he'd getten nicely off they ventured to try ther luck. Joe Longfooit went up wi' a gurt carvin' knife, an' left Sam at th' bottom to whistle if he saw onnybody comin', an' he stood thear for a while, but he wanted a bit o' bacca, an' ther wor sich a wind i'th' steps 'at he couldn't get a leet, soa he went across the rooad into a doorhoil for shelter. He worn't aboon a minnit or two away, but when he coom back what should he see but owd Labon within a few steps o'th' top. He hardly knew what ta do, but he managed as mich wind as made a whistle, an' stood watchin' for th' next move. Joa heeard the signal, but it wor too lat, for he couldn't get aght withaat th' owd chap seein' him, an' he'd getten th' leg cut off ready for huggin' away, soa seizin' hold o'th' shank, he watched for owd Labon's hat showin' aboon th' wall top, when he gave it sich a clencher wi' th' thick end o'th' leg, woll he forced th' brewards reight onto his sholder, then he laup'd ovver th' wall an' ran hooam wi' his prize as fast as his legs could carry him, leavin' Laban to find his way into dayleet ageean as weel as he could. Sam met him at th' haase an' they worn't long i' cutting some grand lukkin' steaks off, an' puttin' 'em ov a dish i'th cubboard, an' bith' time they'd done that, th' bell rang an' they'd ta goa back ta ther wark. When Labon gate his hat, once more onto th' top ov his heead, he went ta see his owd deead friend, an' when he saw it ligged thear wi' nobbut three legs, he vow'd vengeance agean them 'at had done it, an' declared 'at if iver he fan it aght, he'd mak 'em pay for it, for it wor nowt noa less nor robbin' th' deead, an' he'd have' em tried for assasination. Joa's wife wor aght when they took th' leg hooam, an' after they cut th' steaks off they'd hid t' other part under th' coils. But they hadn't been gooan soa varry long when shoo coom in, an' as shoo wor gettin' th' pots aght o'th cubbord, shoo saw this dish' ful o' steaks. "A'a!" shoo says, "it's just like yond chap to put thease in here an' say nowt abaght it, but aw con just relish one o' thease to my drinkin', an' aw dar say he'll want one, an' awm sure th' childer 'll do wi' a bit. We hav'nt had as mich fleshmait i' awr haase afoor for many a wick. Fotch that gridiron, Polly! We'st ha to do it o'th' top o'th' coil, for ther isn't fat enuff to fry it."
Shoo worn't long afoor shoo had it nicely cooked, an' the tea made, an' a thowt struck her' at shoo'd ax Sam's wife to her tea, for shoo knew 'at they didn't oft get steak at their haase, so Polly went an' browt Mistress Sniggle an' all th' childer to ther tea, an' as ther wor eight on' em, they varry sooin put thersen o'th' aghtside o'th' steak. They set to wark then to get some clean pots ready for Joa, an' sent one o'th' childer ta watch th' miln loise, ta tell Sam ta come wi' him. When they come all wor nicely ready for' em, but ther minds worn't easy, for ther'd been a policeman axing abaght 'em at ther wark, for Labon had seen Sam at th' bottom o'th' steps, an' he thowt he knew summat abaght it, soa they declared they'd niver own to it to a wick soul. As sooin as they gate in they smell'd what wor up, for Joa knew ther wor noa mait i' th' haase else, an' his wife had no brass to buy ony. He looked at Sam, an' thear they stooid i' th' middle o' th' floor as white as two ghosts, staring at one another, but they darn't spaik, an' booath waited to see what t'other did.
"Come on to your drinkin'," said th' women.
"A'a! tha'rt a grand un, Joa," said his wife, "to put them steaks i' th' cubbord an' niver say a word abaght it, an' tha knows ha fond aw am ov a bit o' steak, an' it's a bit o' nice mait too, tho' it isn't as tender as some. We've savvor'd it, aw con tell thi, for considerin' th' price o' mait nah, a gooid steak's hardly within th' raich o' workin' fowk."
Joa wor dumb struck, he stirred his tea, but he couldn't tak his een off th' steak. Sam rested his head on his hand an' complained abaght bein' poorly.
"It's for want o' some gooid support, mun," said his wife, "get some o' that mait into thi. It's made me feel a different body, awm as frisky as a young foil, an' luk at th' childer, they're wrastlin' thear like young bullocks. Mun, it puts a bit o'th' natur o'th' beast into 'em."
But Sam declared he felt poorly, an' couldn't touch mait; but Joa couldn't spaik at all. As he sat starin' at th' dish, old Laban went past th' door, wi' a basket o' awther arm shaatin' aght "Cockles alive! Mussels alive, oh!" As sooin as Joa heard that he seized a fork, an' stuck it into th' mait wi' sich a force, 'at he smashed th' dish an' pinned it fast to th' table top. "Woa, up!" he said, "stop thee thear!"
"A'a! gaumless! tha's been having summat to sup this afternooin, aw can see," said his wife. "Tha mud ha' thowt owd Labon wor callin o'th' steak to goa wi' him!" But poor Joa couldn't get a word off. Drops o' sweat stood ov his foreheead as big as pays, an' he couldn't tak his een off th' mait. "Is ther summat th' matter wi' that steak, makes thi 'at tha connot touch it?" said his wife; "awm sure it's nicely enuff; what is ther to do wi' thi?"
"Oh, th' steak's reight enuff," said Joa, raisin' courage to spaik, "th' steaks all reight, but aw'm nut i'th' knife an' fork line to-neet. What's that noise i'th' cellar?" he said, starting aght ov his chear, wi' his hair ommost studden ov an end, an' his een starin', an' his teeth girnin', like a. sheepheead between a pair o' tangs!
"What noise! Does ta mean that rawtin' daan i'th' cellar?"
"Eea!"
"Oh, it's nobbut th' childer 'at's laikin, some on 'em's recknin' to be donkeys an' t'other's drivin' 'em; they've been at it iver sin they'd ther drinkin'; it's that mait 'at's suited 'em soa, mun, woll they dunnot know what to do."
"Aw mun goa hooam," said Sam, "aw can't bide, aw'm varry poorly."
"Why yo booath luk awther poorly or summat," said his wife. "An' aw think th' sooner yo get to bed an' th' better."
Sam an' his wife and childer went hooam, an' it wornt long afoor Joa wor burrying his heead under th' blankets, an' tryin' to fall asleep; but he couldn't, for as sooin as he began to dooaz off, he began dreamin' 'at he wor tryin 'to swallow a donkey an' wakkened wi' it stickin' in his throit.
Th' next mornin' when they met ther faces luk'd moor like two dazed cakes nor owt, for they'd hardly a mite o' color left. "We're reight in for it this time, Sam," said Joa. "Aw believe this job 'll tell ov itsel'. Does ta think 'at it makes ony difference wi' fowk aiting donkey beef?"
"Well, aw dooant know; but aw did once know a chap 'at wor a reglar cauf heead, an' he hardly iver ait owt but veal, an' tha knows th' bass singer at awr church gets bacon to ommost ivery meal, an' he grunts as ill as a pig, bi'th' heart does he;—an', awm sure, my childer's ears luk'd longer to me this mornin', or else aw thowt soa!"
"Well, an aw'm sure my wife snoor'd i'th neet moor like a donkey rawtin nor owt else, an' th' fust thing awr Isaac axed me this marnin' wor to buy him some panniers so as he could be a mule. But what are we to do wi' yond t'other pairt o'th' leg?"
"Oh, we mun burry that, we'll ha' noa moor truck wi' that, an' aw think we'd better ax some advice abaght some o' them 'at's etten th' other; for it wod be a doo if they'd to start o' growin' tails or summat! ther's noa tellin'."
They were boath soa terrified woll they left their wark, an' they went to see an owd chap 'at's varry skilful o' heearbs, an' they tell'd him all abaght it, an' axed him "if he thowt it 'ud mak ony difference to them 'at had etten it?"
"Well," he said, "considerin' what sooart o' fathers they have aw dooant think it will mak mich difference to th' childer, it hardly con, an' if th' wives get rayther unruly, yo mun try an' bridle 'em a bit. But if yo'll tak my advice for't future, yo'll let that alooan 'at doesn't belang to yo, for yo'll allus find ought dishonestly getten, will breed moor trouble to yo nor what th' loss 'll mak to them yo've ta'en it throo,—soa goa hooam, an' bear i' mind 'at "Honesty is th' best policy," an' if 'owd Labon's donkey has towt yo that lesson, it hasn't dee'd for nowt."
They went back to their wark, but someha' or other it's getten wind, an' aw fancy 'at th' doctor's tell'd, but be that as it may, aw consider they wor reight sarved, an' aw dooant think they'll show up at this tea-drinkin'.
"Well, aw niver heard sich a tale i' my life," said Zantippa. "An' aw should think they'll never see a donkey withaght thinkin' on it, an' if soa it'll noa daat be for th' best. Noabody owt to be aboon learnin' when they've a chonce, an' aw think aw've lent a lesson to-day."
"Does ta lass, an' what is it?"
"Why, 'at to mak hooam comfortable owt to be a woman's furst duty, for a clean hearth an' a cheerful fire do a deal towards makin' a cheerful heart; for when a haase is upset a chap's temper gets upset, an' it's a deal better to prevent a few cross words nor to try an' mak things up agean."
"Tha'rt a gooid lass, Zantippa! God bless thi! Let's goa to bed!"