[North Wilts: Clyffe Pypard.]
Thur's our Bill, 'snaw--I had a main job to get he to gwoa. He bin
a walkin' wi' thuck ginger-headed wench o' Smith's--a wur terrible
took up wi' she a bit back, an' her bin a 'suading he to putt up the
banns. A never zed nothen to I about ut, nit I never zed nothen to
he not afore laas' Vriday wick, an' then there wur a word or two,
and I zes to un, 'What's thee want wi' a wife? Thee's got no more
'casion wi' a wife than a twoad has wi' a zide-pawket'--I zes--'an'
ef thee'se be a-gwain to hae she thee can plase theeself, but thee
shasn't never hannel narra penny piece o' mine ef thee does! An'
ther's Shusan's brother-law up a Lunnon, as hev a axed the' _times_
to gwo up, an' he'd vine the' a pleace wur the' meds't do well.--Why
dwon't 'ee teak an' gwo, 'stid o' loppettin' about at whoam wi' a
wench as yun't narra mossel o' good fur cheese-makin' nur nothen else
'cept 'tes to look vine in thuck new hat o' shis'n?'--Them was my
words to un, an' he wur zart o' dubous wur a'd gwo ur wur a 'oodden:
but I sticks it into un as Lunnon wer far afore any wife, let ut be
who 'twill. An' zo a zed a 'oodden bide yer no longer, fur ef a did
her'd never let un gwo. An' a started awf thur-right, an' I han't a
hired from un wur a likes it or wur a dwon't.