Mabel laft, an Sydney tried to laff too, as he sed:--

"Aw nivver heeard ov it befooar, but if yor fond ov it, aw'll try an get

it an sing it for yo."

Th' owd man wor baan to ax some mooar questions when Sydney thinkin it

wor time to change th' subject, sed:--"Aw've come, Mr. Mothersdale, to

ax if yo've onny objections to"--he'd quite forgetten abaat his voice

ageean, an when he gate that far, Mabel's father begun o' beein quite

sewer i' wor th' madman, an he stuck in wi:--"Do yo happen, Mr. Horne,

to have a big knife abaat yo, for aw want one for abaat hawf a minnit?"

Sydney wor just baan to bring aght his Jack knife, but he remembered

just i' time, soa he sed, "Noa, awm sorry aw haven't, but Mister

Mothersdale wod yo have onny objections to Mabel an me keepin company?

Awm weel off, aw've a gooid hooam to tak her to, an awm sewer aw can mak

her happy."

Nah ivvery word at Sydney sed made owd Mothersdale mooar sewer at he wor

th' chap at he'd coom daan i'th train wi th' neet afooar. He wor awfully

riled abaat it yo may be sewer, for if ther wor one thing on earth at he

couldn't abide it wor th' stink o' bacca, an he'd been varry near

smooared i' that railway carriage. But wol he wor as mad as a hatter

abaat it, he remembered at he'd heeard Mabel say 'at this Mister Horne

had heaps o' brass, soa he thowt he'd say no mooar abaat th' neet

afooar, but let him wed th' lass, an tak a revenge aght ov him some

other way.

Soa he started jawin away, as these better class fathers does, abaat ha

he couldn't bide to part wi his dear Mabel, an soa on; but when Sydney

tell'd him abaat his Bank shares, an th' cottage haase property, he

sooin gave in.

"Well," he sed wi a sniff, as if he'd getten a bad cowd in his heead,

"if yo booath on yo love each other soa mich, aw willn't stand in th'

road o' yor happiness, but ther's one little request aw must ask yo to

grant me, Mr. Horne, in return for my dowter?"

Sydney wor soa sewted at th' way things wor gooin, at he blurted aght,

"awst be glad to promise owt yo like to ask, sir."

"Awm a member o' th' Anti-tobacca Society," sed th' owd beggar chucklin

to hissen, "an aw hooap yo dooant indulge i' smookin or snufftakkin?"

"Aw do smook a little, sir, but varry little."

"Then, ov cooarse as its soa little, yo willn't object to give it up in

order to win Mabel's hand?"

Poor Sydney, he'd nobbut had three cigars that mornin, an he wor fair

deein to get aght an have a smook, but ther didn't seem noa escape, soa

wi a sigh, he sed:--"Varry weel, sir, aw'll give it up."

Owd Mothersdale grinned, an thowt ha nicely he wor payin him off for th'

neet befoor, then he shoved a sheet o' paper across th' table, an Sydney

wrote on it that he promised nivver to smook no mooar wol th' owd chap

consented.

"Aw shall nivver consent," sed Mr. Mothersdale, "haivver it doesn't

matter. Nah, Mabel, gie me a kiss, an then yo an Mister Horne can run

away an talk things ovver."

Mabel kissed him, an went away wi Sydney, but when shoo axed him

afterwards what th' joke wor he'd promised to tell her, he pretended

he'd forgetten.

They wor wed at Midsummer, an Sydney kept his word abaat smookin--he

started chewin, an suckin owd empty pipes, but it worn't like smookin,

an whenivver he smelt th' reek ov a cigar it fair set him longin, but

like a man owt to do, he didn't braik his promise.

----------------

Abaat a year after, when they wor baan to cursen th' babby, Mabel's

father wor ax'd to th' ceremony. Mabel wor vexed at Sydney couldn't

smook, becoss shoo knew ha fond he wor on it, soa th' afternooin her

father wor expected, shoo sed, "we'll cure papa ov his dislike to bacca

smook, or else we'll get him to let yo smook ageean."

"Hah'll yo do it, lass?"

"Wait an see," shoo sed, "yo shall smook a pipe to-neet."

He wondered ha it wor to be done, an at fower o'clock shoo sent him off

to th' stashun to meet her father.

When they gate back th' whole haase wor full o' bacca smook, in bedrooms

an passages, on th' steps, in th' sittin rooms, ther wor thick white

claads ov it.

"Oh, dear-a-me," sed Mr. Mothersdale, "whativvers this? Sydney yo've

brokken yor promise, an been smookin?"

"Aw haven't," Sidney sed, "nivver a whif hav aw smook'd sin th' day aw

promised."

"Noa," Mabel sed, "we've faand a better way nor that, we're booath fond

o'th reek o' bacca, soa we get a fumigatin thing aght o'th greenhaase,

and burn bacca in it, it sents all th' haase i' noa time, an saves

Sydney all th' trubble o' puffin away at pipes an cigars."

He felt he wor done--he couldn't live i' sich a smook as that, soa he

tell'd Sydney at if he'd keep his smookin aght o'th raich o' his nooas,

he could start when he liked, providin they wodn't use th' fumigator noa

mooar.

Sidney slipt aght into th' back garden, an smook'd what he thowt wor th'

best cigar he'd ivver had in his life; an as it says in stooary books

"they all lived varry happy ivver afterwards."

Awr Lad.

Beautiful babby! Beautiful lad!

Pride o' thi mother and joy o' thi dad!

Full ov sly tricks an sweet winnin ways;--

Two cherry lips whear a smile ivver plays;

Two little een ov heavenly blue,--

Wonderinly starin at ivverything new,

Two little cheeks like leaves of a rooas,--

An planted between em a wee little nooas,

A chin wi a dimple 'at tempts one to kiss;--

Nivver wor bonnier babby nor this.

Two little hands 'at are seldom at rest,--

Except when asleep in thy snug little nest.

Two little feet 'at are kickin all day,

Up an daan, in an aght, like two kittens at play.

Welcome as dewdrops 'at freshen the flaars,

Soa has thy commin cheered this life ov awrs.

What tha may come to noa mortal can tell;--

We hooap an we pray 'at all may be well.

We've other young taistrels, one, two an three,

But net one ith' bunch is moor welcome nor thee.

Sometimes we are tempted to grummel an freeat,

Becoss we goa short ov what other fowk get.

Poverty sometimes we have as a guest,

But tha needn't fear, tha shall share ov the best.

What are fowks' riches to mother an me?

All they have wodn't buy sich a babby as thee.

Aw wor warned i' mi young days 'at weddin browt woe,

'At labor an worry wod keep a chap low,--

'At love aght o' th' winder wod varry sooin flee,

When poverty coom in at th' door,--but aw see

Old fowk an old sayins sometimes miss ther mark,

For love shines aght breetest when all raand is dark.

Ther's monny a nobleman, wed an hawf wild,

'At wod give hawf his fortun to have sich a child.

Then why should we envy his wealth an his lands,

Tho' sarvents attend to obey his commands?

For we have the treasures noa riches can buy,

An aw think we can keep em,--at leeast we can try;

An if it should pleeas Him who orders all things,

To call yo away to rest under His wings,--

Tho to part wod be hard, yet this comfort is giv'n,

We shall know 'at awr treasures are safe up i' Heaven

Whear no moth an noa rust can corrupt or destroy,

Nor thieves can braik in, nor troubles annoy.

Blessins on thi! wee thing,--an whativver thi lot,

Tha'rt promised a mansion, tho born in a cot,

What fate is befoor thi noa mortal can see,

But Christ coom to call just sich childer as thee.

An this thowt oft cheers me, tho' fortun may fraan,

Tha may yet be a jewel to shine in His craan.

Grimes' Galloway.

"It's noa use, Sammywell,--aw dooant knaw ha tha feels, but aw can

assure thee 'at aw dooant feel so young as aw used to do. When aw wor

twenty years younger tha allus set off bi thisen an left me to mooild

amang it th' best way aw could; but nah, when tha knows 'at aw can

hardly put one fooit afoor tother tha wants me to goa for a walk. Its

weel enuff for thee to climb ovver hills an daan dales, becoss thi limbs

are limber--thanks to me for takkin care on thi as aw have done. It's

miserable for me to caar ith' haase all bi misen, an thee wanderin abaat

as tha does, an hardly ivver turns up except at meal times, an net allus

then. If tha'd ha takken moor nooatice ov what aw've sed to thi i' years

gooan by, we could ha been ridin in a carriage ov us own nah. It is'nt

at aw've onny desire to show off, but aw think when fowk get to my age,

an have tew'd as aw've done, they're entitled to some ease an comfort.

But aw suppooas aw'st nivver know what rest is until awm under th' sod."

"Aw think tha must ha been aitin summat 'at's disagreed wi thi, owd

lass, for tha's done nowt but grummel this last two-o'-three days. Tha

caars i'th' haase too mich. Tha sees tha connot ride a bicycle, an tha'd

hardly like to be seen ridin in a wheelbarro, or else awd trundle thee

abaat for an hour or two ivvery day, an awr Hepsabah's peramberlater

wod'nt hold thi, if it wod it ud find Jerrymier summat to do an keep him

aght o' mischief. Then ther's plenty o' tram-cars, but tha allus says

tha feels smoor'd when tha rides i' one o' them, soa awm fast what to do

amang it."

"Dooant bother thisen.--Aw'st get a ride one o' theas days as far as th'

cemetary, an aw shall'nt hav long to wait unless things alter pretty

sooin."

"Well, what wod ta advise me to do?"

"It's too lat on ith' day for thee to come to me for advice. Do thi own

way, but when tha's lost me tha'll miss me,--mark that. Tha'll nivver

find another to do for thi as aw've done."

"Aw hooap net,--but aw hav'nt lost thi yet, an aw dooant want to. But

aw've just getten a nooation! Awm capt aw nivver thowt on it befoor!

Aw'll goa see abaat it this varry minnit! Tha shall be reight set up

this time. Just have a bit o' patience, an aw'll be back in an haar's

time."

"Thear tha gooas agean! If aw say a word to thee tha flies off after

some wild goois eearand an manages to mak thisen into a bigger fooil nor

tha art. Tell me what tha meeans to do?"

"Aw'll tell thi all abaat it when aw come back, an aw weant belong."

"Well dooant goa an get owt to sup. If tha'rt detarmined to have it, buy

some an bring it hooam wi thi, for aw believe tha spaiks trewth when tha

sed aw'd getten summat at disagreed wi me, for mi stummack's been varry

kittle for a day or two."

"All reight, lass! Keep thi pecker up, an aw'll bring thi raand all

reight." An Sammywell set off.

------------

"Aw wish aw'd nivver spokken," sed Mally, as shoo watched him pass th'

winder. "He's getten that bankbook in his pocket, an he'll as sewer goa

an squander some moor brass as he's livin. He isn't fit to be trusted.

He meeans weel enuff, but he's soa simple. Net but what ther's war nor

him if yo knew whear to find 'em, an aw believe he tries to do his best,

but that isn't mich to crack on. Hasumivver, aw mun put up wi it, soa

aw'll get thi drinkin ready, for he sed he wod'nt be long."

It didn't tak her long befoor shoo'd made as temptin an comfortable a

meal as onny reasonable chap could desire, an then shoo set daan to wait

wi as mich patience as shoo could. Darkness wor creepin on an shoo'd

ommost getten stall'd o' watchin th' clock, when ther wor a queer

grindin sooart ov a noise aghtside, an in another minnit Sammywell come

in.

"Nah, lass! Tha sees aw hav'nt been varry long an aw've browt thi

summat. Bring a leet an have a luk at it."

"Whativver is it?" shoo sed, as shoo coom to th' door wi a cannel in her

hand. "Whativver has ta getten?" shoo sed, as shoo walked raand it.

"Aw've bowt this galloway an little carriage soas aw can drive thi aght

whenivver th' weather's fine."

"Whativver wrangheeaded trick will ta be guilty on next!"

"Why, tha wor grummelin abaat net bein able to get aght o' door, an aw

bethowt me at old Swindle had this for sale, soa aw've bowt it."

"An nicely he's swindled thee aw've noa daat. But are ta sewer it is a

galloway? Becoss aw wodn't believe what he says if he went onto his

bended knees."

"Well, what does ta think it is? Tha can see at it's nawther a elefant

nor a camel."

"Well, lad,--it may be all reight, but aw should want somdy else to say

soa. It luks varry poorly aw think, luk ha white it is ith' face."

"That's th' color on it. It ails nowt an tha'll say soa when aw drive

thi aght ith' mornin."

"Thee drive me aght, does ta say? Nay, lad, aw've moor respect for misen

nor that! What does ta think awr Hepsabah an th' naybors wod say. But

it'll do for Jerrymier. But whear are ta baan to put it?"

"Aw've getten a place to keep it, an if awther Jerrymier or his mother

dar to mell on it, they'll know abaat it."

"Tha need'nt freeat,--ther'll nubdy be ovver anxious to mell ov a thing

like that. If tha'd bowt a donkey an cart an started hawkin cockles and

muscles or else leadin coils ther mud ha been some sense in it. But tak

it away an come in an get thi drinkin an dooant stand thear lukkin as

gawmless as that article. Off tha gooas an tak it wi thi, an if it lives

wol mornin tha can show it to Jerrymier an ax him whether it is a

galloway or net. It luks as if it had coom aght o' Noah's Ark, tho if

awed been Noah aw should ha let that thing have a swim for it."

"Tha'rt th' mooast provokin, dissatisfied, ungrateful woman aw ivver

met! Awm in a gooid mind to drive away an nivver coom back!"

"If tha depends on that whiteweshed umberella-stand tha wodn't be far to

seek. But tha'd better hand me that bankbook, for fear tha should leet

o' onny moor curosities, an we're nooan gooin to goa into th' show

trade. Nah away wi thi."

Grimes drove off an Mally went into th' haase.

"What a silly owd maddlin he is. Just to think at he should goa an wear

all that brass o' me. Awr Hepsabah 'll be fair ranty. But then it's his

own brass an he's a reight to spend it as he thinks fit, an aw know ther

isn't another body ith' world but me at he'd ha bowt it for. Aw think aw

nivver saw a bonnier little thing, but it'll be time enuff to tell him

soa when he's cooild daan a bit. Aw have to keep him daan a bit or else

he'd sooin be too big for his booits. That's his fooit. When he's had a

cup o' this teah, an had theas muffins (aw bowt em a purpose for him)

he'll leet his pipe an sattle daan, an aw can sooin bring him raand if

he's as mad as a wasp. Aw'st nivver be able to sleep to-neet for thinkin

abaat yon'd pony an th' drive aght ith' mornin."

When Grimes coom in he wor lukkin varry glumpy.

"Come thi ways, an get theas muffins wol they're hot,--they're fresh off

th' beckstun an that butter's come reight off th' farm an its as sweet

as a nut."

Sammywell sed nowt, but as th' teah began to warm him an th' muffins wor

just to his likin his face seemed to clear a bit, an when shoo handed

him his second cup, he wink'd at her, (he couldn't help it.) "This is a

drop o' gooid teah, lass, an aw think aw nivver had grander muffins."

"Aw've tried to suit thi. Has ta fed that galloway an left it

comfortable for th' neet?"

"As comfortable as it desarves! But aw did'nt know 'at a whiteweshed

umberella-stand wanted makkin comfortable."

"Aw know its all reight for tha hasn't a heart i' thi belly to hurt a

flee. What time does ta intend to start off i'th mornin."

"Mak thi own time. But aw thowt tha didn't care to goa."

"It's what aw've been langin for for years, an tha knows, Sammywell, if

aw do say a word nah an agean at doesn't just suit thi, its becoss tha

aggravates me. If tha'd treeat me as a wife owt to be treated, aw should

nivver utter a wrang word."

"Well, tha artn't th' only one i' this haase at gets aggravated

sometimes, but we'll say noa moor abaat it. Try an bi ready bi ten

o'clock i'th mornin, an we'll start aght if its fine."

"But tha doesn't feel cross abaat it, does ta lad."

"Cross, behanged! If aw tuk onny nooatice o' what tha says, aw should

allus be cross. Let's get to bed."

------------

Next mornin Mally wor soa flustered wol when Grimes coom in to his

braikfast after lukkin to th' galloway, her hands tremmeld soa at shoo

could hardly teem aght his teah.

But shoo managed to get donned at last, an Sammywell browt th' galloway

an th' little trap to th' door, an he felt a bit narvous too, for it wor

th' furst time he'd ivver driven aght wi his wife, but he wor praad to

do it, an his pride kept him up.

They wor i' hooaps o' gettin off withaat Hepsabah an th' naybors gettin

to know, but it wor noa use. Sombd'y seen th' galloway, an when

Sammywell helpt Mally into her seat, they wor all aght.

Hepsabah stood thear, wi a babby o' awther arm, an Jerrymier at her

side, an as they rode past, shoo put on as humble a luk as shoo knew ha,

an dropt a curtsey, an sed "Gooid mornin, Mr. and Mrs. Grimes, Esquire."

Then shoo brast aght laffin an all th' naybor wimmen waved ther approns

or towels or owt else they could snatch howd on, an cheered em wol they

gate aght o'th bottom o'th fold.

They tuk th' shortest cut to get aght o'th busy streets, an they worn't

long befoor they coom to whear ther wor green fields on booath sides

o'th rooad. It wor a grand day, an they sed little for a while, for they

wor booath feelin varry happy, an they lukt it.

Old as they wor, an i' spite ov all th' ups an daans they'd had, they

felt like sweethearts agean, an if they couldn't luk forrad to th' long

enjoyment ov monny pleasures, they could luk back wi few regrets, an

hearts full ov thankfulness for all th' blessins they'd had an

possessed.

"Aw nivver thowt, Sammywell," sed Mally, after a bit, "at aw should

ivver live to ride i' mi own carriage an pair."

"Why, lass, awm pleased if tha'rt suited. But tha can hardly call it a

carriage an pair."

"Aw dooant see why net. Its a varry nice little carriage is this an awm

sewer th' galloway an thee mak a gooid pair, for aw should tak yo to be

booath abaat th' same age, an th' same complection to nowt, except for

thi nooas; an yo nawther on yi ivver hurried yorsen mich or seem likely

to do; but aw think if aw wor thee awd get aght an shove behind a bit,

its a pity to see it tewin up this hill, an its puffin like all that."

"Well, let it puff! If ther's onny shovin to be done tha'll ha to tak

thi share on it. We'll stop at yond haase at top o'th hill an then wol

we get a bite an a sup, Fanny can rest a bit."

"Who's Fanny?"

"That's th' galloway's name."

"Then it'll have to be kursend ovver agean."

"Ha's that?"

"Dooant thee think 'at aw forget. It wor Fanny Hebblethwaite at wor

allus hankerin after thee until we wor wed, an for some time after.

Aw've had enuff o' Fannys. We'll call it Jerrymier."

"But its a mare tha sees."

"Well then, we'll call it Jimmima."

"Let's mak it Jenny an ha done wi it."

"Owt'll do but Fanny. Shoo wor a impotent hussy. Aw wonder what becoom

on her?"

"Aa! shoo's been deead aboon a duzzen year?"

"Oh, well then--tha can call it Fanny."

They did enjoy thersen that day an noa mistak, an monny a day after, an

they're lukkin forrad to monny a pleasant little time.

Th' naybors have getten used to seein em nah an have noa desire to poak

fun at em.

Jerrymier has takken a big fancy to th' galloway, an oft gooas an

gethers it a basket full ov sweet clover, an when Grimes an Mally arn't

using it, Hepsabah an her babbies have a drive throo th' park, Jerrymier

acting as th' cooachman.

Th' galloway knows its getten a gooid hooam. It wants for nowt,--Mally

taks gooid care o' that. It's one to be trusted an it knows its way

abaat. Some day yo may see an old galloway, pullin a little carriage

containin an old man an woman;--all three on em saand asleep, an yo can

rest assured at that's Grime's an Mally an ther Galloway.

True Blue; A Romance of Factory Life.

Susy was only twenty-two, and she had been a widow for over twelve

months. She had married when only nineteen, a honest hard working man

who was more than twice her age. There had been no love in the match, so

far as she was concerned;--she was an orphan,--poor,--lonely, and

pretty.

She was only a weaver, and not very expert, yet she managed to make

sufficient to pay her board and to keep herself well dressed, for the

position she occupied, and her beauty,--for she was very beautiful, and

her natural taste enabled her to present an appearance so much superior

to those with whom she was in daily contact, that many envied her, and

some looked askance at her, and shook their heads, and predicted evil to

come.

Some one had dubbed her 'the Factory Belle,' but she never resented what

many would have considered insults or slights, but kept on in her own

innocent, yet attractive and attentive way, and commanded a certain

amount of respect even from those who were secretly her enemies.

No one would for a single moment suspect that she was a widow, for not

only was she so young, but looked even younger. That her husband had

worshipped her was not difficult of belief, and that she had been to him

a kind, fond wife was indisputable;--her gratitude for his kindness and

his self-sacrifices to secure her happiness had been such, that if she

did not love him with the blind infatuation of youth's fond dream, she

respected him, and he was first in her then unawakened affections.

When he was suddenly stricken down with a fell disease which was at that

time ravaging many of the towns in the West Riding, she nursed him

faithfully, and when he died,--holding her little white hand in his

brown, brawny fist, she shed the bitterest tears that had ever dimmed

her beautiful blue grey eyes.

After the last sad rites were over, she had disposed of the household

furniture, which was all he had been able to leave her, and paid every

claim that was presented, finding herself once more alone, and dependent

on her own exertions for a living.

She had plenty of sympathizing friends, and more than one would

willingly have provided for her in the hope that at some future time

they might win her for themselves, but she was of a very independent

spirit and preferred to depend on her own efforts to provide for her

wants.

She had no difficulty in obtaining employment at the weaving shed where

she had worked before her marriage; and right welcome did her fellow

workers make her, and the look of sadness which for a time clouded her

face, though it did not detract her from her beauty,--by degrees cleared

off,--her eyes sparkled as before,--the bloom came back to her velvet

cheeks and her lips curled again into the bewitching smile that suited

them so well, and with her added years, were developed charms that she

had not possessed before.

Her swelling bust accentuated her tapering waist, and her beautifully

rounded arms, her well shaped, small hands,--her graceful carriage, all

combined to produce a perfect specimen of Yorkshire female lovliness.

Where hundreds were employed, it was not to be expected she would lack

admirers. She had many,--many more than she even imagined.

Though almost faultless in face and figure, yet she was not without some

faults.

She knew she was beautiful, and she was vain. Much of her apparent

artlessness was assumed. She was pleased to be admired, and felt

gratified to see the effect of her glance, as she favoured one with a

languishing look, and another with a haughty stare, or a wicked,

sparkling, mischief loving gleam,--transient on her part but fatally

permanent on susceptible hearts.

In her own heart she had never felt love,--she had never sounded the

depths of her own nature;--she was as yet a stranger to herself.

Amongst others, who were ever ready at her beck and call were two young

men,--both about her own age.--They are both dead now or this story

would not have been written. We will simply speak of them as Dick and

Jack. One was the overlooker under whom she worked, this was Dick, a

prime favourite with the masters, and a clever, honest chap he was.

Jack was known as "Th' oiler," his duty being to attend to the long

lines of shafting and revolving pullies. Much of his work, especially

the more dangerous part of it, had to be performed whilst the engine was

stopped.

Never were known two truer friends than Dick and Jack. After working

hours they were seldom separated. They worked together in the little

allotment garden which they jointly rented. Even the pig was a

partnership concern. Although they were friendly with all they came in

contact with, they never made any other special friendships. They were

satisfied to be with each other and so confidential were they, that they

each lived in the other's life.

Nicknames were common at that day, and Dick was generally spoken of as

"True Blue," because of his unswerving integrity. Jack had to be content

with the less euphonious title "Th' oiler."

They were neither of them blind to Susy's charms, and admiration blended

with pity, and pity, where a beautiful woman is concerned, is likely to

lead to something else. They often spoke of her to each other, but it

was the only subject on which they ever conversed, that they were not

entirely open and honest about. Dick's position gave him many

opportunities to be near Susy, and it was remarked that her loom seemed

to require more attention than any other under his surveillance.

Susy, with that quick instinct which all women seem to be possessed, saw

that he was at her mercy. But she loved her liberty. She had tasted such

bliss as married life could offer,--so she thought, and she preferred to

feel free to smile on whom she pleased. She was virtuous, and kind,

after a fashion, but she was fast becoming a coquet,--a flirt. In her

little world she was a queen, and the homage of one did not satisfy her.

Hearts were her playthings,--they amused her, and she liked to be

amused.

One day, during the dinner hour;--she had brought her dinner to the

mill, which was her invariable custom, as the house where she lodged was

a considerable distance from the works;--she was sitting in a retired

corner in an adjoining room, when looking up she saw Dick standing close

by her and regarding her with such a longing, yet troubled look, that

although she laughed, and was about to make some flippant remark, she

checked herself, and made room on the little bench for him to sit.

"Why, Dick," she said, as he took his place beside her, "what's to do?

Has th' boiler brussen, or are we going on strike?"

"Nay, Susy, its summat moor serious nor that. Aw thowt aw should find

thee here. Aw hope tha arn't mad at aw've come."

"What should aw be mad for? Tha's as mich reight to be here as me,--an

if it comes to that aw suppooas we've nawther on us onny business here

an aw think aw'll be gooin."

"Net just yet, Susy;--stop a minnit,--aw've summat to say. Its varry

particlar. Can't ta guess what it is?"

"Aw dooant know unless tha'rt gooin to find fault abaat mi piece, an awm

sewer aw've done mi best wi it, but yond warp's rotten."

"Its nowt abaat thi wark, its moor important to me nor all th' wark i'th

shed. O, Susy, awm sewer tha must know what aw want to say. Tha connot

be blind, an tha must know at awm fonder on thi nor o' onnybody i' all

this world. Tha knows ha bonny tha art, an tha knows tha's nobbut to put

up thi finger an tha can have onny single chap i'th shop, but, believe

me, Susy,--ther isn't one at can ivver love thi as aw love thi. Aw'll

work for thi throo morn to neet, an tha shall be th' happiest woman i'th

world if its i' my paar to mak thi soa. What says ta? Aw willn't hurry

thee if tha wants time to think abaat it,--but tell me,--is ther

onnybody at tha likes better?"

"Why, Dick, tha's fairly knockt th' wind aght o' me. Tha sewerly forgets

at awm a widdy. A young chap like thee doesn't owt to be lukkin after

widdys, when ther's soa monny single young lasses abaat waitin for

chaps."

"It'd mak noa difference to me if tha wor a widdy twenty times ovver.

Tha'rt th' grandest woman aw ivver met, an if aw ivver do wed it'll be

thee. Come, nah, tell me,--we havn't mich time befoor th' engine starts.

Is ther onnybody tha likes better nor me. Spaik aght. If ther is aw'll

bide it as weel as aw can, an aw'll nivver trubble thi agean."

"Noa, Dick, ther isn't. That's gospel trewth. Ther's nubdy livin at aw

like better nor thee, an aw dooant know another aw like as weel, but tha

knows when it comes to weddin, it mun be summat moor nor likin th' next

time. It'll have to be lovin. An aw dooant love thee weel enuff, but aw

may leearn to do, but tha mun gie me time."

"Yond's th' engine startin, aw mun be off;--an bless thi for what tha's

sed. Aw'll mak misen worthy on thi, an tha shall love me at th' finish."

That afternoon Dick seemed to be walking on air. His face was flushed,

and his heart beat until his voice was so unsteady that those who had to

speak with him eyed him curiously. As he passed Susy's loom she gave him

a look so full of love and sympathy that it required an effort to pass

on to his other duties.

When the day's work was ended, he waited, as was his custom, for Jack,

though he would much rather have gone home alone. He felt selfishly

happy, and he wanted to nurse his secret where no eye could read his

exultation. It was a something sacred,--too sacred to be shared even

with Jack.

As they walked along, they saw Susy tripping away, some distance in

advance.

"Yond's Susy, aw see," said Jack. "Aw could tell her onnywhear. Shoo

doesn't walk like th' rest on em. Aw wonder if shoo'll ivver think abaat

gettin wed agean."

"That's a matter at we've nowt to do wi. Aw suppooas shoo'll pleas

hersen," said Dick, in a tone that fairly startled Jack.

"Summat must ha gooan wrang wi' him at his wark," thought Jack, and they

walked along, only now and then giving utterance to some common place

remark. Dick's conscience accused him. He felt that he possessed a

secret that Jack could not share. There was a rift in the lute. Perfect

confidence had ceased to exist between them. Why should it be so? he

asked himself. Jack has committed no fault. Had the case been reversed

he felt sure that Jack would have confided in him. Ah, but Jack could

never love her as he loved her! Nobody could ever love her as he loved

her! Nobody! Days and weeks went by, and it was a hard time for Dick.

Sometimes he was in the seventh heaven of delight, and again he was

plunged in the depths of misery and despair.

Susy seemed just as frivolous as ever. His declaration made no

difference in her. She dispensed her smiles as impartially as ever, to

all appearance unconscious that every favour bestowed on another was a

stab to Dick, but however full of resentment he might feel, a sidelong

glance which seemed so full of meaning to him banished his discontent

and he accused himself of unreasonable jealousy.

The coldness between the two friends seemed to increase, yet they went

to work together as usual, but conversation flagged and only indifferent

subjects were touched upon. Dick had still unbounded faith in Susy, and

although he could not but see that she avoided him, he accounted for it

owing to the respect she still felt for the husband she had lost, and to

the seriousness of making a second matrimonial venture.

One day, during the dinner hour, something seemed to impel him to see

her and plead with her once more. He knew where she was to be found, and

was proceeding to the place, when he heard her voice. He was screened by

some huge bales of yarn, and he could hear what she said distinctly.

"Its varry kind o' thee, Jack, to tak pity on me,--aw like thee weel

enuff, in fact ther's nubdy aw like better, but when aw wed agean it mun

be moor nor likin, it will have to be love. Aw may leearn to love thi

yet, but tha mun gie me time."

Dick could wait to hear no more. Retracing his steps noiselessly, he

went out into the open air. Could it be true? Had his ears deceived him?

Was it possible that the beautiful woman on whom he had lavished all the

first love of his life could be capable of playing with him in such a

fashion? Jack was his rival! He was a sycophant! a hypocrite! a villian!

How the afternoon passed he could not tell. He kept as far away from

Susy as his duties would allow, and at night he walked home alone.

Next day he met Jack at the entrance to the works, but he gave him such

a look of hatred that he stepped aside and he passed without a word.

Jack was quite unconscious of having done anything to merit such

treatment, but by degrees, as he reviewed the incidents of the past few

weeks, a light broke upon him;--he saw it all. They were rivals.

From that time all intercourse ceased between the two who had been

deemed inseparable. This gave rise to many remarks from their

acquaintances, not a few of whom guessed the cause.

Susy seemed quite unconcerned, and smiled as sweetly as ever. Dick

furtively watched her, and the more he looked, the stronger grew his mad

infatuation and the deeper became his determination to be revenged.

He never again intruded himself on Susy's dinner hour, but he knew that

Jack took every opportunity of seeing her, and the work that he should

have done during the time the machine was standing, he had to hurry over

when it was in motion. It was a hazardous work;--a single slip might

lead to a certain and horrible death. But he was experienced and

cautious, and he felt no fear.

The fire of revenge, always smouldering, was almost daily fanned into

flame by real or fancied causes.

Jack went calmly on his way. He regretted the break in their friendship,

but he could not resign Susy. He hoped all things would come out right

at last.

A day came, when, as the engine began to set in motion the innumerable

shafts and wheels and pulleys, which in turn transmitted their mighty

strength over the hundreds of looms,--Dick stood at the end of the row

of machines that were under his charge. His eyes had a strange light in

them and his face was unnaturally pale, and his hands wandered

unmeaningly over the loom nearest him.

A scream reverberated through the shed, above all the clatter of

shuttles and whirr of wheels, and was repeated again, and again. There

was a rush towards one point. The mighty engine stopped with a groan,

and all the wheels were motionless. All the workers had deserted their

posts,--nay,--not all. Dick stood shivering, grasping an iron bar for

support.

Susy, stood confronting him. The look in her wonderful eyes was one that

he had never before seen. No word was spoken. She passed on to join the

throng, and Dick followed like one in a dream.

"Poor Jack!" "poor lad!" was heard on every hand. The crowd divided, and

four strong men bore the battered and bleeding form into the private

office. Dick saw it,--he followed close behind it. Outside the very

sunshine seemed red. He seemed to awake from a dream. There was his

friend,--the friend he had loved,--nay,--more,--the friend he did love

still. And he? what was he? A murderer:

No one had accused him;--no one even suspected him. Yes there was one.

Her eyes still seemed to glare at him with their mute accusation.

What did he care? She had caused it all. He inwardly cursed her; and

cursing her loved her more madly than ever. There was no revenge in his

breast now.

Hastily throwing on his jacket, he followed the ambulance on which lay

the unconcious body, covered with a sheet through which the blood had

already penetrated. A doctor had been summoned and he said life was not

extinct.

When the Infirmary was reached, Dick entered, no one attempted to

intercept him. But when the body was placed in the accident ward, all

but the doctors and nurses were ordered out. Dick paced the corridor

from end to end incessantly. He could not leave until he knew the worst.

He had long to wait, but at last the doctors appeared.

"He still lives, but there is no hope."

And with that terrible sentence ringing in his ear, he had to leave him.

When he reached the works again, he found them closed, but a crowd of

workers were gathered there. He joined them. They were discussing the

terrible accident.

"Aw saw it," sed one, "aw wor standin cloise to him when th' ladder

smashed an threw him onto th' shaft. His smock wor catched in a second,

an he wor whirled raand an raand until th' engine wor stopt, and then he

dropt to th' graand battered to bits."

"Its ten thaasand pities," sed another, "an aw connot help thinkin

ther's been some foul play somewhear. Who can ha takken th' brokken

ladder away? That ladder should be examined. Somdy may ha been foolin wi

it."

"It does seem strange," said several, "but mooast likely it'll turn up."

They soon began to scatter, and Dick went homewards. The ladder! Who

could have taken the ladder? The tell tale ladder, that bore the

evidence of his guilt.

Arrived at home, he shut himself in his room and there he sat through

what appeared to him an eternity of night. He felt no desire to sleep.

Early in the morning found him again at the Infirmary. He questioned a

nurse who was passing.

"He is quite conscious now, but he cannot hold out many hours. It is

better he should die, than live a helpless cripple all the rest of his

days."

"Aw mun see him," he sed, "Do let me see him."

"That cannot be without the doctor's permission," she said, but seeing

the frantic grief of the man, she went and brought the doctor's consent.

Dick was soon at the bedside. He saw only the bandaged head. The face

was scarcely disfigured, but there was a look upon it that could not be

misunderstood.

A faint smile played over his pale features, as he recognised his

visitor. Dick could not speak, but sank on his knees by the bedside and

sobbed as only a strong man can sob.

"Jack," he sed at last, "can ta forgie me, lad? Aw did it. But aw wor

mad! The devil had me in his clutches. Awm willin to suffer for it, but

do forgie me. Forgie me for old times sake."

"Aw knew tha did it, but aw forgie thi freely, for tha didn't know it

wod end like this. Aw wor to blame for net dooin mi wark when aw should

ha done. Dunnot blame Susy. Shoo's worthy on thi. Shoo tell'd me 'at all

her heart wor thine, an aw did all aw could to mak thi jaylus. An shoo

wor praad, an when tha seemed to slight her it cut her up, but pride

wodn't let her tell thi what aw've tell'd thi nah. It's hard to leeav

th' world when young, but its mi own fault. Forgie me, Dick, an let me

dee, an may thee an Susy be happy."

"That can nivver be, Jack. Thear's noa mooar happiness for me."

There was no response. The eyelids drooped,--the jaw fell. The nurse who

had stood at a distance, drew near and spread a white napkin over his

face.

"He's gone. 'Tis better so."

An inquest was held. "Accidental death" was the verdict.

The ladder could not be found. Neither Dick nor Susy ever entered those

works again. They were both sadly altered. After Jack's funeral, months

passed before they met again. What took place when they did meet can

only be surmised. Some short time afterwards their was a quiet wedding,

and they moved to another town. But Dick never recovered his old

spirits, and it was not long before she was a second time a widow.

When Dick was in his coffin and the men stood by to close it for the

last time, she placed in it a parcel. It contained two pieces of a

broken ladder, showing where it had been sawn almost in two. This is all

the story, Susy is living yet. The secret rests with her and me.

"If aw wor a Woman."

"If aw wor a woman awd----"

"If tha wor a woman tha'd be a disgrace to ivverybody belangin to thi,

an thar't little else nah," sed Mally.

"Aw wor gooin to remark, 'at if aw wor a woman----"

"Eah! but tha arn't a woman, an if tha wor tha'd wish thisen a man

agean, varry sharply. But if aw wor a man awd set a different example to

what tha does. Aw wonder sometimes what thar't thinkin on, if tha ivver

does think, which awm inclined to daat, unless its thinkin ha tha can

contrive to be awkard an aggravatin."

"Well, but as aw wor gooin to say, If aw wor a----"

"Aw dooant want to hear owt tha has to say abaat it. A fine woman tha'd

mak! But aw wish tha wor foorced to swap places wi me for a wick. Aw

should like to see ha tha'd fancy gettin up befoor dayleet ov a Mondy

mornin an start o' sich a weshin o' clooas as aw have to face ivvery

wick; to say nowt abaat starchin an manglin an ironin. An then to start

an brew a barrel o' ale for other fowk to sup; an then to bake for sich

a family as we've getten,--nivver to mention makkin th' beds an cleanin

th' hearthstun,--an' th' meals to get ready, an then to cleean th' haase

throo top to bottom ivvery wick,--an darn th' stockins an put a claat on

here an a patch on thear, an fifty moor things beside,--an nivver get a

word o' thanks for it. Aw just wish tha wor a woman for an odd wick. Aw

do, truly."

"As aw sed befoor, If aw wor a----"

"Awm capt tha hasn't moor sense nor to keep tawkin sich foolishness. Tha

knows tha arn't a woman an tha nivver can be,--moor's pity. But if aw

wor a man awd awther tawk sense or keep mi maath shut. Aw think

sometimes 'at summat 'll happen to thi as a judgment for bein sich an

ungrateful tyke as tha art. Tha gets up in a mornin an finds thi

braikfast ready, an if ther's owt i'th haase at's nice an tasty tha gets

it; an then tha walks aght to what tha calls thi wark, an comes to thi

dinner, an off agean wol drinkin time, an after that tha awther gooas an

caars i' some Jerryhoil, or else tha sits rockin thisen i'th front o'th

fair, smokin thi bacca an enjoyin thisen wol bedtime. Ther's some fowk

dooant know when they're weel done to. But aw know who it is 'at has to

tew an slave all th' day, wi hardly a chonce to wipe th' sweeat off mi

face."

"But, if tha'll lissen, aw wor gooin to remark, If aw wor----"

"Tha maks a deeal too monny remarks. Tha'll sit thear, remarkin an

praichin bi th' haar together, an nivver give me a chonce to get in a

word edgeways. But awm just sick an stall'd o' harkenin to thi. They wor

a time, years sin nah,--but aw can remember it tho' tha's forgetten

it,--when tha used to sit an lissen to owt aw had to say, an my word wor

law then. An if mi little finger warked tha'd hardly be able to sleep ov

a neet for trubblin abaat it. But it's different nah. Aw dooant believe

it ud disturb thi if mi heead had to tummel off mi shoolders. Aw've

studden a gooid deeal sin aw wor wed to thee, an aw expect aw'st ha to

stand a lot moor; but one thing aw willn't put up wi, an that is, sittin

an listenin to thee, an havin to keep mi tongue still. Soa tha knows."

"Well, but if aw wor----"

"Nah, let it stop just whear it is. Tha's getten a tawkin fit on aw

know,--aw wonder thi jaws dooant wark. But aw willn't hear another word!

Noa, net a word!"

"But if----"

"Ther's noa 'buts' abaat it! Hold thi noise, do! Tha'd tawk a hen an

chickens to deeath. Tha wod. Aw wonder if aw shall ivver have a bit o'

peace?--Net befoor awm laid low, aw reckon."

Sammywell's Soft Snap.

"What wor yond clatter, Mally? Has somdy been smashin summat?"

"Nowt 'at meeans mich. It wor a accident an couldn't be helpt."

"Well, what wor it? Can't ta spaik?"

"It's nowt at's owt to do wi thee, soa tha needn't let it bother thi

heead; but if tha'rt soa crazy to know aw can tell thi.--It's awr

Hepsabah's Jerrymiah at's brokken th' winder i'th weshus. Nah, arta

satisfied?"

"Satisfied! Now! Satisfied bi gum! Does ta think aw've nowt else to do

wi mi brass but to buy winders for Jerrymiah to smash? Ha is it awr

Hepsabah can't keep her childer at hooam? When we'd childer we nivver

sent em raand to ther gronfather's to smash winders! An if aw catch hold

o' that young taistrel aw'll tak th' skin off him!"

"Hold thi din, gert softheead! Onnybody to hear thi tawk, 'ud think

tha'd gooan cleean wrang i' thi heead! Bless mi life! tha dosn't think

'at th' child did it on purpose, does ta? He wor nobbut tryin his best

to catch a blue-bottle-fly, an it went into th' winder whear be couldn't

raik it, soa he sammed up a teacup an flang it at it,--nivver thinkin

owt abaat th' winder, becoss he knew ha tha hated sich things buzzin

abaat thi heead; but whativver that child does it seems to be wrang.

Aw'd be shamed o' misen to start grumblin abaat a bit ov a tupny-hawpny

winder!"

"Tupny-hawpny winder! Why, it'll cost a shillin to get that winder put

in! An what abaat th' teahcup?"

"Oh, that's nowt. It wor nobbut an owd crackt en. Awd meant throwin it

away monny a wick sin. Th' child wor sadly trubbled when he saw what

he'd done, for he wor feeard tha'd be cross wi him, but aw tell'd him to

whisht, for tha wornt to a winder or two, soa tha can give him a hawpny

for spice, (tha knows he thinks a deeal moor on it when it comes throo

thee,) an tha can call at glazers shop an tell em to send a chap up to

put another pane in, an here's sixpence for thisen, sithee, for aw know

thi bacca's ommost done."

"That's all reight. Ov cooarse th' child didn't meean to braik th'

winder, nor the teacup nawther,--but he owt to be towt different; an aw

dooant believe awr Hepsabah knows owt abaat trainin childer as they owt

to be trained. But aw'st send noa chap up here to put that winder in.

Aw've getten nowt else to do an aw meean to put that in misen. Aw can

buy a square o' glass that size, for abaat thrippence, an better glass

nor that wor too. But, Mally, nah this is a bargain;--If aw get th'

glass an th' putty, and put it in, tha gies me th' shillin th' same as

tha'd gie it onnybody else."

"Tha can have th' shillin! Aw'm nooan grumblin abaat th' shillin,--but

aw connot see wot tha wants wi soa mich brass day after day. Ther's

hardly ivver a day passes ovver thi heead 'at tha dosen't ax me for

awther sixpince or a shillin, an awm sewer ther's all tha needs to ait

an drink at hooam, an tha's as gooid clooas to don as onny man need

wish,--an nobbut th' last Sundy, tha axt me for sixpince for th'

collection, an tha nobbut put in a hawpny, for aw wor watchin thi.--A'a,

well! but hasumivver, here's another shillin, soa if tha thinks tha can

put it in, goa an get a square a glass an ha dun wi it."

"'Think aw can put it in?' Aw dooant think owt abaat it! Aw know aw can

put it in! What does ta tak me for? Does ta think aw havn't th' strength

an brains enuff to wrastle wi' a bit o' glass like that?"

"Tha's wrastled wi too monny glasses, Sammywell, sin aw knew thi, an

they've getten thi daan moor noa once. It's gettin lat i'th' day, nah,

to expect thi to mend mich, but if tha'd nobbut sign teetotal an join

th' chapel, an buy Jerrymier a new Sundy suit, aw think aw mun see

summat to admire in thi even yet."

"Ther's as mich to admire abaat me as ther is abaat some other fowk aw

could mention, but aw'll bi off just nah, for when aw've a job to do aw

want to get it done, an net stand hummin an haain abaat it like thee."

----------

"Nah, Mally lass. If awd had as mich sense when aw wor young as aw have

nah, we'st ha been ridin in us carriage. Sithee--aw've nobbut gien

thrippence for this glass an aw've getten putty for nowt an when that

winder's mended it'll be better nor new an ninepence saved, soa tha sees

we'st be soa mich i' pocket."

"Then that's ninepence tha'd nivver ha saved if it hadn't ha been for

Jerrymier, soa tha connot say he's gooid for nowt onny moor."

"Ger aght o' mi gate, an lets do summat. Bring me a cheer to stand on an

a knife an a hammer an a chissel an aw'll show thi ha to put a winder

in, in abaat two or three ticktacks. This is what aw call a soft snap.

Ninepence,--that's threepenoths for abaat three minnits wark. Nah, thee

stand thear an steady th' cheer. Here gooas!---- Aw wonder what dang'd

sooart o' putty that lumpheead used 'at put this winder in. It's as hard

as iron--Jer-rer-ruselem!"

"What's to do, Sammywell? Has ta takken th' skin off?"

"Skin off! Oooo! Aw've ommost takken mi finger off! Get us some claat an

a length o' threed to lap it up. If aw knew th' chap 'at put that winder

in, he'd nivver put another in."

"Ther nah,--be moor careful,--it mud ha been war,--but tha sees that's

what comes ov a chap startin to do summat 'at he doesn't understand."

"Understand! What the dickens is ther to understand abaat puttin a

winder in? It's nooan puttin a winder in at's trubble! it's gettin this

dang'd owd glass aght 'at tother chap put in. But awm nooan gooin to be

likt bi a winder. Stick fast to that cheer. One,--two,--three----"

"Nah, tha's done it! Tha's gooan an brokken another pane! Ah knew tha'd

mak a mullock on it when tha started!"

"Did ta! Well, aw'll mak a mullock o' thee i' two minnits if tha doesn't

shut up! Tha sees awm dooin mi best to try to save a penny or two an tha

does nowt but try to aggravate me. Braikin another pane doesn't amaant

to mich;--they're nobbut thrippence a piece; aw think th' best plan 'll

be to tak th' sash aght an put it on th' table, an then it'll be easier

to get at. What says ta!"

"Do as tha likes, but aw think tha'd better let a chap come an put em in

an ha done wi' it."

"If aw connot put a winder in we'll do baat. Nah, tha'll see it's just

as simple as suckin spice, nah 'at aw've getten it whear aw can get to

it. A'a, ther's noa wonder 'at them glazeners gettin rich! Chargin a

shillin for a bit ov a job like this. Awm moor nor hawf inclined to goa

into this trade, as old as aw am. Nah, tha sees, that's all ready for

puttin th' glass in. Umph!--th' chap 'at cut this must ha been cross

ee'd. Well, nivverheed,--aw guess aw can just squ-e-e-e-e-ze it in--.

Dang it! it's allus alike! If awd ha cut that glass misen it ud ha just

been reight. Nah it's crackt reight across! But it'll ha to do,--crackt

or net crackt! Consarn it! aw dooant see what fowk want wi winders in a

wesh haase! awm i' two minds to board th' hoil up an let em wesh i'th

dark. Hasumivver, that's nooan sich a bad job if it'll nobbut stick. If

aw hadn't brokken this tother pane aw'st had done nah. Nah, Mally, lass,

aw'st want another shillin for this tother winder."

"Tha'll get noa moor aght o' me. Tha mun buy another square aght o' thi

ninepence tha's saved."

"What ninepence?--Does ta expect a chap to goa trailin abaat th' taan

for a hawf a day buyin glass an stuff, an nivver spendin nowt. These

winders ud cost thi a shillin a piece if onny body else put em in, but

aw willn't be hard on thi,--gie me another sixpence an aw'll finish th'

job."

"Aw wish tha'd nivver started it. But this is th' last penny tha'll get

aght o' me, soa tha knows! Aw nivver saw nubdy frame war i' mi life!

Why, if awd gien awr Hepsabah's Jerrymier th' job he'd ha done it better

nor that."

"Wod he?--Well, suppooas tha does give him th' job! Aw'll tell thi what

it is.--Aw've just studden this sooart o' thing as long as awm gooin

to.--Ther's awr Hepsabah an her Jerrymiar, an thee, 'at know

ivverything an can do ivverything,--an aw know nowt an can do nowt, an

awm treeated war nor nowt, an soa yo can just tak them winders an stick

em up as they are, or mend em, or do what the daggers yo like wi em, but

aw tell thi this, once for all,--'at as long as ivver thy name's Mally,

tha'll nivver catch me slavin an plannin as aw have done for thee an

thine. If tha'd nivver ha interfered, them winders ud ha been in, but

tha'll nawther put em in thisen nor let me do it--soa awm gooin aght."

"Gooid shutness! Th' longer he lives an th' war he gets."

A Bashful Bradfordian.

One wod hardly expect to find a bashful young chap in a Bradforth

printin office. But ther is one; but aght o' consideration for his

tender feelins aw willn't tell his real name, but call him James

Fearnly. If yo're varry anxious to find aght who it really is, this is

th' way to do it. When yo've a bit o' spare time, if yo connot manage to

get 'em all together at once, tak 'em one bi one, as yo can catch 'em,

an read this stooary to em. Th' furst one 'at blushes, yo may safely tak

to be him.

James fell i' love wi a young woman 'at lived up Manningham loin, an its

allus been suppooased, bi them 'at know 'em, 'at shoo must ha fell i'

love wi him at th' same time, or sooiner; but hasumivver, to th'

surprise o' ivverybody 'at knew James, they gate wed. Ha they spent ther

honeymooin aw cannot tell, an aw wodn't if aw could, but after a bit

they gate nicely sattled in a little haase on Thornton Road.

Angelina was his wife's name, but he cut it short an called her Angel,

which he varry likely thowt shoo wor. But if he wor bashful, shoo

worn't. Shoo'd a bonny face, an a shape 'at made ivvery old chap 'at saw

her wish he wor young ageean; an when owt tickled her shoo laft like a

locomotive whistle in a fit; an as for bein bashful,--why--shoo didn't

know what it meant.

Shoo'd a sister,--A'a! but shoo wor a grand en! To tell the trewth,

James had fallen i' love wi her furst, but he wor too bashful to tell

her soa, an he'd nivver ha had pluck to pop th' question to Angelina if

it hadn't been 'at they wor lost at th' back o'th Taan Hall, an he had

to borrow a lantern to prevent 'em runnin agean lamppooasts.

But when they'd getten sattled, Maude Blanche, (that wor th' sister's

name,) coom to pay em a visit. Nah, Maude Blanche wor just as fond o'

fun as James wor feeared on it, an shoo kept jabbin him between th'

ribs, an sayin all sooarts o' queer things, an axin him questions 'at he

couldn't answer an he blushed until Angelina had to tell her to stop,

for fear all his blooid wod be in his heead.

Well, they went to bed. James an his wife i' one raam and Maude Blanche

i'th next. James wor sooin i'th land o' nod, an Angelina felt disgusted

when shoo heeard him snoorin an turned raand an followed his example.

Ha long they had slept they didn't know, but Angelina oppen'd her e'en,

an what should shoo see, but th' drawers oppen, an all th' stuff

scattered raand. Shoo gave a skrike, an jam'd her elbow between James's

ribs wi' sich a foorce 'at he fell on th' floor like a log o' wood.

"Murder! police! thieves!" shoo skriked. "A'a, dear! what ivver shall we

do! drive 'em aght!"

"Angelina, aw cannot do it! It's impossible!" an he stood shivverin an

shakin and tryin to lap his legs up in his shirt tail.

"Aw've been robbed! That solid goold brooch aw gave fifteen pence for is

missin, an all mi hair pins an a bobbin o' black threead, and gooidness

knows what else! Maude Blanche! come here! Maude Blanche! does ta hear?"

"Gooid gracious! tha arn't callin thi sister in here an me i' this

state!" sed James, an he dived under th' bed.

"Maude Blanche! _do_ come! Th' hasse is full o' robbers!"

"For God's sake, Angelina, dunnot let her come in here till awm donned.

Aw've nowt on but mi shirt, and if shoo comes an sees me aw shall faint

reight off."

"Shirt be hanged! what does it matter if shoo sees it! shoo'll have it

to wesh next wick! Tha owt to be 'shamed o' thisen!"

"Aw am, an aw'st be moor soa if shoo comes in. Does ta know aw've noa

stockins on, an mi britches is hung ovver th' bed fooit; an this shirt

is a quarter ov a yard to short! Dunnot let her come in whativver tha

does!"

Just then th' door oppened, an a smilin face peep'd in.

"What's to do?" axt Maude Blanche.

"We've been robbed! an that softheead is caarin under th' bed asteead o'

runnin after th' robbers!"

"Turn her aght, Angelina! If tha doesn't aw shall sink throo th' floor.

Gie me mi britches if tha'll do nowt else, an then aw'll see what aw can

do. Maude Blanche! If tha hasn't forgetten all tha's ivver been towt at

th' Sundy schooil, get aght o' this hoil as sharp as tha can! If tha

doesn't tha'll see what tha'll be sorry for as long as tha lives, for aw

cannot stand it!"

Angelina wor soa upset 'at shoo hardly knew what shoo wor dooin, but

shoo pitched James's britches under th' bed, and Maude Blanche wor

laffin wol shoo had to rest ageean th' bed fooit to steady hersen.

James tried to put on his britches, but it wor noa easy matter, but in a

bit he did get his legs into 'em, altho' they wor th' wrang side before,

an then he crept aght, moor deead nor alive, an a deeal war freetened

wi' Maude Blanche nor he wor abaat th' robbers.

"Whear's th' robbers?" he sed, lukkin daan at th' slack ov his britches

an fumblin after th' buttons.

"Ther's noa robbers," sed Maude Blanche, "it's nobbut a bit o' my fun.

Aw heeard yo booath snooarin an aw thowt it ud be a gooid jooak to mak

yo fancy somedy'd brokken into th' haase."

"A'a! did ta ivver!" sed Angelina, turnin to James; "did ta ivver see

one like her i' all thi life?"

"Aw dooant think aw ivver did, an aw nivver want to see owt like her

agean. Aw wonder if shoo ivver saw owt like me? Aw should think shoo'll

nivver forget it as long as shoo lives."

"A'a, hold thi wisht! Little things mak noa impression on awr Maude

Blanche."

They all went to bed agean, but James couldn't sleep, his narves had

getten sich a shock. As sooin as it wor dayleet he gat up an dressed an

went to his wark, but he couldn't think o' owt else, an ivvery time he

did think, he blushed soa, wol th' foreman sed he wor sewer he'd getten

scarlet fayver, and advised him to goa hooam an get a hot posset.

He's workin steady nah, but he's nivver getten ovver th' scare 'at heed

had that neet, an he nivver gooas to bed withaat his britches, or else

he has a newspaper pinned raand th' hem ov his shirt.

Angelina tells him 'at he maks a deeal o' fuss abaat nowt, but he

considers it a varry serious matter.

Last time 'at Maude Blanche paid 'em a visit, shoo wor wearin a pair o'

green spectacles, an when Angelina axt her what shoo wore 'em for, shoo

sed 'at shoo did it becoss shoo wor feared if shoo lukt at James wi' th'

naked eye 'at it mud send him into a fit.

If th' young chaps whear he worked had getten to know abaat it, they'd

ha plagued his life aght, but they kept it to thersen. It wor Angelina

'at tell'd me abaat it, for shoo sed shoo knew aw could keep a saycret,

an it didn't matter whether aw could or net, for if aw tell'd it, ther'd

nubdy believe it.

Well, aw've tell'd it, an it's true an all.

Th' Owd, Owd Story.

It wor th' owd, owd story he towd her,

Th' story, 'at's owder nor time;

Nowt ivver chap whisper'd wor owder,

Nowt ivver soa grand an sublime.

For man nivver towd ither story,

Soa chock full ov magic as this,

For, it shraaded th' young chaps i' glory,

An' filled her 'at listened wi' bliss.

Th' story had wrought sich a wonder

Noa ither tale ivver has done--

Two hearts, that afooar wor assunder,

Wor knit i' a crack into one.

An' still he kept tellin' her th' story,

Which mooar an' mooar wonderful grew,

(Soa oft its been tell'd its grown hoary,)

But shoo could hav sworn it wor new.

Shoo thowt of th' angels above 'em,

Wor jealous o' her, an' him, then--

For angels has noa chaps to love 'em,

Love's nobbut for wimmin an' men.

But th' love i' her heart ovvercame her,

An' shoo pitied th' whole angel thrang,

Aw know what love is, an' dooant blame her,

An' aw dooant think her pity wor wrang.

Th' story wor towd, an' for ever

It wor noa gurt shakes what might befall;

Nowt but deeath, these two hearts could sever,

An' that nobbut partly, net awl:

For love like one's soul is immortal,

If its love, it wont vanish away--

Its birth wor inside o' th' breet portal

Ov Eden, it knows noa decay.

Sin' then it has lived on, while th' ages

Has rowled on wi' uniform flow,

As young, an as fresh, as when sages

Towd ther sweethearts it cent'ries ago--

An' chaps 'll be tellin th' story,

Th' breet, owd, owd story ov love,

When time, an' love, fade inter th' glory

'At streams thro' th' manshuns above.

Jim Nation's Fish-shop.

Sammywell Grimes an his wife, Mally, wor set anent th' foir,--Sammywell

seemingly varry mich interested ith' newspaper, an Mally, showin signs

ov impatience, wor darnin stockins. All wor silent except for th' tickin

oth' clock, wi nah an then a long-drawn-aght sigh throo Mally an an

occasional grunt throo Grimes. At last Mally couldn't stand it onny

longer, an shoo pitched th' stockins on th' table an sed,--

"Dost know, its just cloise on an haar an a hawf sin tha set daan wi

that paper, an tha's nivver oppened thi lips to me durin that time? Aw

remember when things wor different. Ther wor a time when tha tuk a

delight i' tellin me all th' news, but latterly tha tells me nowt, an if

it worn't for Hepsabah an some oth' naybors aw shouldn't know whether

th' world wor gooin on as usual, or it had come to an end."

"Why, lass,--th' fact oth' matter is ther's nowt to tell. Aw nivver saw

th' like. Aw dooant know what papers are gooin into, for ther isn't a

bit o' news in em. Aw've just glanced ovver this an aw can find nowt

worth readin."

"It doesen't tak thee an haar an a hawf to find that aght. Is ther owt

in abaat th' war?"

"Oh, war! Aw believe it does say summat abaat th' war. It's still gooin

on, an one chap has sprained his ankle an another has had a narrow

escape an De Wet is expected to be captured as sooin as they get hold on

him, an a lot moor sich tales, but they arn't worth thinkin abaat coss

they'll all be contradicted ith' mornin."

"An does it say nowt abaat that butcher at's run away an left his wife?

Awr Hepsabah wor sayin shoo believed they'd catched him."

"Hi! They've catched him, an he wor browt up at th' Taan Hall this

mornin an he pleaded 'guilty,' soa th' magistrate sed as he'd allus

borne a gooid character he'd give him his choice, an he could awther goa

back hooam an live wi his wife or goa to quod for three months wi hard

labour."

"They've let him off easier nor he desarved, but aw should think his

wife's gien him a bit ov her mind."

"Nay, net shoo! Shoo's nivver had th' chonce, for he tuk three months.

Shoo's a tartar aw believe."

"Shoo must be if that's th' case. A'a, Sammywell,--a chap at's blessed

wi a gooid wife owt to goa daan on his knees i' gratitude for they're

varry scarce."

"Aw believe they are;--a chap wod have to goa a far way to find one at

this day."

"He'd have to travel a deeal farther to find a gooid husband,--aw can

tell thi that! An if tha arn't satisfied wi thi wife tha's getten tha'rt

at liberty to goa an find a better. It's noa use a woman tryin to be a

gooid wife at this day, for they get noa better thowt on. If they did,

tha'd think moor o' me nor tha does!"

"Aw dooant see ha aw could do that, lass, for tha nivver gives me a

chonce to forget thi unless its when awm asleep, an net oft then, for if

tha doesn't want one thing tha wants another, an awm allus fain to do

what aw con for thi, but tha'rt nivver satisfied for long together. Aw

wonder sometimes what aw gate wed for."

"Aw've been wonderin that for a deal o' years. Th' fact is aw dooant

know what sich chaps live for. If aw wor a man aw should like to be able

to luk back an think awd done a gooid turn to mi fellow-man."

"Aw think aw did that when aw wed thee."

"It wor th' best thing tha ivver did for thisen, an tha knows it! But

awm net gooin to waste mi time tawkin to thee for tha arn't worth it.

Has ta made up thi mind what tha'rt baan to have for thi supper?"

"Owt 'll do for me."

"As tha seems to care soa little abaat it, suppooas tha gooas withaat

for a change."

"All reight, lass. Just do as tha likes."

"Aw connot do as aw like, if aw could aw should have summat to ait, for

aw've hardly put a bite into mi heead this day, an ther's nowt ith'

haase aw can touch, an awm too tired to goa aght for owt, an aw've nubdy

to send, soa aw'st ha to do withaat as usual."

"If tha'll nobbut say what tha wants aw'll fotch it for thi if its to be

had; tha knows that."

"Well, if tha doesn't mind. Aw think we could booath enjoy a bowlful o'

mussles,--but they mun be gooid ens an aw dooant think tha knows th'

shop. They call th' chap 'at keeps it Jim Nation, but aw dooant know

whear it is, but tha can easy find aght."

"Willn't onny other shop do just as weel?"

"Noa, another shop willn't do becoss aw want th' best. We allus pay

ready brass for awr stuff an aw dooant like to think at other fowk get

better sarved; an when aw went for th' milk this mornin aw heeard

Mistress Whitin tawkin to Widdy Baystey an shoo sed, 'my husband's

getten mussels twice as big sin he went to Jim Nation's shop,' an aw

want some oth' same sooart."

"Gie me summat to put 'em in," sed Grimes, "aw'st sooin find it for ther

isn't monny fish-shops i' Bradforth."

"Well, luk as sharp as tha can," sed Mally, "an be sewer they're fresh."

Grimes set off an Mally began at once to get th' table laid for th'

supper.

Befoor Grimes had gooan varry far he thowt his wisest plan wod be to ax

somdy. Soa seein a poleeceman he made enquiries.

"Aw dooant know exactly," sed th' bobby, "but aw fancy ther's a chap o'

that name keeps a shop somewhere up Manningham way."

Soa Sammywell set off i' that direction, keepin his een oppen for a fish

shop. After he'd gooan ommost a mile he sed,

"Awm a fooil for commin all this way, for if awd nobbut gien it a thowt

aw'st ha known ther wor noa shop o' that sooart up here. Mi best plan

wod ha been to goa to th' market an enquire thear. They'd be sewer to

know," soa he walked back agean, but he made a few enquiries as he went

along, but nubdy seemed to know.

Just as he'd getten to Westgate he saw Tom Taggart an he felt sewer he'd

know, for he seemed to spend his time trailin abaat th' streets.

"Hallo, Tom!" he sed, "tha'rt just th' chap aw wanted to see! Can ta

tell me whear Jim Nation keeps his fish shop?"

"Jim Nation?" sed Tom, rubbin his chin,--"Let me see. Are ta sewer it's

a fish shop?"

"Aw should think it is for he sells mussels."

"O,--hi, tha'rt reight. It is a fish shop. What did ta say wor th'

chap's name?"

"Jim Nation."

"O,--Jim is it? Tha'rt sewer it isn't 'Tom'?"

"Noa, it's Jim."

"It isn't Sam Shackleton tha meeans, is it? He sells fish sometimes."

"Aw tell thi his name's Jim Nation."

"O,--well,--then it willn't be Sam Shackleton. Awm like as if aw know

th' chap tha meeans but aw connot spot him this minnit. Let's goa into

th' 'Star' an mak some enquirements, ther's sewer to be somdy 'll know

him."

Soa into th' 'Star' they went, an Tom called for a pint for hissen an

axt Grimes what he wor gooing to have. "We connot come in an goa aght

drymaath, tha knows," sed Tom, soa Grimes ordered twopenoth an paid for

booath. Then they axt ivverybody if they knew whear Jim Nation's fish

shop wor, but altho two or three on em believed they'd seen it, nubdy

could tell whear.

"We'd better have another drink an sit daan a bit," sed Tom, "ther'll be

sewer for somdy to come in at'll know."

But Sammywell worn't havin onny moor o' that sooart, so he left em. When

he wor aght ith' street ageean, he scrat his heead an sed summat he

shouldn't.

"What a lumpheead aw am! Why didn't aw goa to ax Mistress Whitin at

furst, an save misen all this bother?" an he started at once for her

haase.

He faand her sittin sewin,--for ther's little or noa trade dooin in a

milk shop after drinkin time.

"Wod yo be soa gooid, Mistress Whitin, as to tell me whear Jim Nation

has his fish shop?"

"Fish shop.--Jim Nation.--Nay, Mr. Grimes, awm sooary to say aw connot.

It's nowhear abaat here, that awm sewer on. Has he been ith' trade

long?"

"Well, this is the degger! Aw've happen getten th' wrang name; but awm

sewer that's what Mally tell'd me. But yo happen willn't mind tellin me

whear yo're husband buys his mussels?"

"Mussels! My husband nivver buys onny mussels. If he does he taks em

somewhear else to cook, for we havn't had sich a thing i' awr haase aw

couldn't tell th' time when. Awm feeard on 'em. Yo must be mistakken."

"Well, ther's a mistak somewhear,--that's a sartanty. My best plan will

be to goa back hooam an see if aw can get some better information."

"Tha's been a long time, Sammywell;--had ta onny trubble to find th'

shop?"

"Shop! Ther isn't sich a shop! Aw've walked monny a mile an axt scoors

o' fowk, an my belief is at tha's just been makkin a laffinstock on me.

Mistress Whitin says shoo nivver heeard tell o' sich a chap nor shop

nawther."

"Then hasn't ta browt onny?"

"Ha the dickens could aw bring onny when aw tell thi aw couldn't find

th' shop!"

"A child o' four year old could goa a eearand better nor thee! If awd

sent Jerrymier he'd ha browt em an they'd ha been cook't an etten befoor

nah."

"Well, it isn't too lat to send Jerrymier yet. But aw tell thi Mistress

Whitin says ther isn't sich a shop, an they nivver had a mussel i' ther

haase sin they wor born nor for years befoor that!"

"Ov course shoo'd say soa! That shows th' depth on her. Shoo wants to

have th' best o' ivverything for hersen. But aw'll goa an see if shoo'll

tell sich a tale to me. Her's isn't th' only milk shop i' Bradforth, an

aw'll nivver buy another drop on her as long as aw live. An if shoo

doesn't mind what shoo's dooin aw'll put th' inspector onto her, for its

moor watter nor milk at aw've been gettin thear for a long time."

Mally threw a shawl ovver her heead an tuk th' basket, an called for

Jerrymier, so as he could carry it for her, an away they went.

Mistress Whitin wor sittin just as Sammywell had left her, an wor runnin

ovver in her mind th' names ov all th' fowk she knew at kept fish shops.

When Mally stept in shoo didn't nooatice at shoo wor varry excited soa

shoo sed,

"Come in, Mally;--awm just studyin abaat what yo're Grimes wor axin me

two-or-three minnits sin."

"It needs noa studyin abaat. Yo know what he axt yo weel enuff, but yo

dooant want to tell. Aw've allus takken yo to be a varry different

sooart ov a woman. Didn't aw hear yo, wi mi own ears, tellin owd Widdy

Baystey,--noa longer sin nor this mornin, at sin yor husband began gooin

to Jim Nations at he gate mussels twice as big as at onny other shop?

Nah, deny it if yo can. Aw dooant see what ther is to laff at nawther."

"Why, Mistress Grimes, yo've made a sad mistak. Aw wor nobbut advisin

Mistress Baystey to let her lad,--him at's so waikly,--to goa th'

Gymnasium. Sin my husband started o' gooin he's twice as strong as he

wor, an th' muscles ov his arms are twice th' size they used to be. Yo

see its been all a mistak."

It tuk Mally a minnit or two befoor shoo could reckon things up fairly,

but as sooin as shoo did shoo laft too, an then takkin Jerrymier bith

arm started off to find th' nearest fish shop.

They hadn't far to goa, but when shoo axt th' chap ha he wor sellin his

mussels, he stared at her wi' all th' een in his heead.

"Mussels! Ther's noa mussels at this time oth' year," he sed.

Mally lukt flummuxt for a minnit, then givin Jerrymier a shillin to goa

to th' pooarkshop for a duzzen sheep trotters, they sooin landed safely

hooam.

"Noa wonder tha didn't bring onny mussels, Sammywell, for they arn't i'

season, but aw've browt summat aw know tha likes. Here Jerrymier, tak

these for thisen, an dooant be long befoor tha'rt i' bed."

Ha they enjoyed ther supper aw can nobbut guess, an what explanation

shoo gave Grimes aw dooant know, but Jerrymier an his gronfather wor

laffin fit to split th' next mornin, at th' yard botham.

Bob Brierley's Bull Pup.

Bob Brierley had been wed three months. He wor a book-keeper an a varry

daycent chap for owt aw knaw to th' contrary. His wife wor a nice young

thing, an blest wi a gooid share o' common sense. It seems strange, but

yo'll find its generally th' case, at th' best lasses wed th' biggest

fooils. But this isn't allus soa, for aw wed one o'th best misen.

Hasumivver, Bob an his wife wor varry happy, at leeast they thowt soa,

but they had to have a taste o' trubble like th' rest o' fowk.

They'd noa childer, nor onny signs o' onny, but they had a bull pup. It

wor a gooid job i' one respect at they had this pup, for if they hadn't

aw should ha been short ov a subject to write abaat.

Whether it had etten summat at upset it stummack, or whether it grew

sick o' seein them fondlin an messin wi one another aw dooant know, but

ther's noa daat abaat it bein sick.

This didn't bother Bob varry mich;--men havn't sich tender feelins as

wimmin, but Angelina, (that wor wife's name, but her husband called her

Angel) wor i' sooar trubble. Shoo gave it castor oil, an

hippi-kick-yor-Anna, an coddled it up i' flannel, an cried ovver it, an

when Bob coom hooam to his drinkin, an grumeld becoss it worn't ready,

shoo called him a hard hearted infidel.

Bob didn't quite like it, but seein at shoo wor soa put abaght, he made

shift wi sich things as wor handy, an then tuk his share o' nursin wol

Angel cook'd a beefsteak for hersen.

But i' spite ov all they could do, it just fittered once an gave a

farewell yelp, and deed. It wor a sorrowful neet. Whether they lost onny

sleep ovver it aw dooan't know, but next mornin Angelina sed shoo'd "had

its voice ringin in her ears all th' neet, an shoo thowt shoo'd nivver

get ovver th' loss on it."

"Oh, we'st get ovver it i' time," sed Bob, "it nobbut cost ten an

sixpence, an when aw get mi wage advanced aw'll buy another."

Angelina made noa reply to what shoo considered a varry unfeelin remark,

an for th' furst time durin ther wedded life shoo began to suspect at

Bob wor noa better nor th' rest o' fowk.

"What mun we do wi th' little darlin?" shoo axt.

"Why, chuck it i'th middin," sed Bob, an then seein a luk ov horror coom

ovver her face, "unless tha intends to have it stuffed, or mak sawsiges

on it."

This wor moor nor Angelina could stand, an sinkin into th' rockin cheer,

shoo wod ha fainted reight away, but happenin to see th' clock, shoo saw

it wor time for Bob to start for his wark, an he couldn't stop to bring

her raand, soa shoo had to pospone faintin till another time.

"Happen awd better bury it i'th garden," he sed, "it willn't tak a

minnit."

"E'e! nay!" shoo sed, "aw'll lap it up i' some nice clean newspaper, an

tha mun tak it wi thi, an when tha finds a nice secluded spot, whear it

can rest peacefully, lay it to rest."

"All reight, lass! put it on th' table wol aw goa for mi hat an coit,"

sed Bob, "an dunnot freeat."

Angelina lapt it carefully up, an sat daan to have a gooid cry, an Bob

coom rushin daan, feeard he'd be lat, tuckt th' bundle under his arm an

set off intendin to drop it into th' furst ashpit he coom to.

He passed monny a one, but ther wor allus somdy abaat, an he couldn't

get a chonce o' gettin shut on it, an he wor foorced to tak it to th'

office wi him. This didn't trubble him varry mich, for he'd allus a hawf

an haar for his lunch at twelve o'clock, soa he detarmined he'd dispooas

on it then, an i'th meantime, he put it in a cubboard i'th office, whear

it wodn't be seen.

It seem'd to Bob at moor fowk went to th' cubboard that mornin nor had

ivver been to it befoor.

"Its time this cubboard had a clean aght," sed th' manager as he wor

huntin for a book, "it smells like a vault."

Bob tremeld, but all passed off safely. Twenty times during that mornin

he wor put in a sweeat wi' furst one an another, but twelve o'clock coom

at last, an waitin till tother clarks had gooan, he grabbed his parcel,

an jumpt in th' furst tramcar he saw,--luckily ther wor nobbut one man

inside an he wor readin a paper,--soa puttin his parcel i'th opposite

corner, he jumpt off at the next stoppin place. He started off at full

speed an wor just beginnin to smile at his own clivverness, when somdy

shaated.

"Hi! Hi, thear!" an turning to luk, he saw a man rushin towards him

holdin his parcel.

"You forgot your parcel, young man," he said, puffin an blowin, "it was

lucky I happened to see it!"

Bob sed "thank yo" as weel as he could, an then sed summat else, which

aw willn't repeat, an tuckin it under his arm, he went to th' place

whear he usually gat his breead an cheese an his glass o' bitter.

He sat in a quiet corner, an one bi one th' customers went aght, an

thinkin he saw a favourable chonce, he put his bundle on th' seeat, and

threw a newspaper carelessly ovver it, supt up--an when he thowt nubdy

wor lukkin he quietly left it an wor sooin back in his office, feelin

wonderfully relieved. But he hadn't seen th' last on it even then.

All wor quiet except for th' scratchin o' pens, for th' maister wor

sittin at his private desk, when a redheeaded lad,--Bob thowt he wor th'

ugliest lad he'd ivver seen in his life,--coom in grinnin, an sydlin up

to him, an holdin th' parcel at arms length, as if he wor feeared o'

bein bitten, he sed, "th' lanlord o'th 'Slip Inn' has sent this,--he

says yo left it on th' seeat."

Bob snatched it aght ov his hand an put it in his desk, but th' lad

still stood grinnin.

"Dooan't aw get owt for bringin it? Aw know what it is, an aw should

think its worth summat."

Bob's face wor as red as a hep, an th' sweeat wor like dew on his

forheead,--th' leeast coin he had wor a shillin, but he put it into his

hand an bundled him aght, wol th' maister gave him a luk at made him

uncomfortable for th' balance o'th day.

When five o'clock set him at liberty, he tuk his parcel once moor an

started for hooam; but ther wor a grim luk ov determination on his face.

"Aw'll get rid o' thee this time, if aw have to walk twenty mile to find

a place," he sed. "Th' chap aw bowt thee on, sed ther wor nowt like a

bull pup for stickin, an tha's stuck to me wi a vengence. Aw wodn't goa

throo another day like this for all th' bull pups i' Bulgaria! An if

Angelina ivver perswades me to buy another aw hooap they'll call me bull

pup for th' rest o' mi days!"

He'd nearly getten hooam, when he coom to th' corner ov a small croft,

an as ther wor nubdy abaat he dropt it ovver th' wall; an mutterin

summat throo his teeth, an shakkin his fists, he went hooam, but net

i'th sweetest o' tempers.

Angelina lukt him up an daan, an in a surprised voice axt, "Hasn't ta

browt it back?"

"Browt it back! Browt what back? Does ta think awm daft?"

"Why, then what's to be done? Ther's nowt to cook for thi drinkin!"

"Drinkin! What's that to do wi it? Tha sewerly didn't think o' cookin--"

"Aw thowt when tha fan aght th' mistak tha'd ha sent it back."

"Mistak! What are ta drivin at? What wi th' bull pup an thee yu'll send

me wrang i' mi heead!"

"Why, didn't ta know at tha'd taen th' wrang parcel? Tha tuk th' leg o'

lamb at th' butcher's lad had just browt, an left th' poor dog on th'

table!"

"Th' deuce aw did? What's ta done wi it?"

"Aw gave a man sixpence to tak it away. But whear's th' leg o' lamb?"

"Hold on a minnit! It's nooan far off."

An withaat another word he started off, an as luck let, it wor just

whear he dropt it. He oppened th' parcel to mak sewer it wor all reight,

an then he set off back.

"Well, if onnybody had tell'd me at aw wor sich a fooil as net to be

able to tell th' difference between a leg o' lamb an a bull pup aw

wodn't ha believed em;--but th' best on us are fooils sometimes."

"Here it is, Angelina,--cut off a steak or two an let's have summat to

get th' taste o' that bull pup aght o' mi maath! Awm sooary at tha's

lost thi pet, but tha munnot tak it too mich to heart."

"Me! Net aw marry! Awm rare an fain its gooan for little dogs mak a deal

o' muck:--An somtime,--ther's noa knowin, ov coarse--but it may

be,--mind, nobbut say it may,--we may have summat else to nurse at'll

suit us better nor a bull pup."

Troubles and Trials.

Did it ivver occur to yo 'at if it wor as easy to shake off unpleasant

acquaintences as it is to shak a carpet, what a dust ther'd be i'th

world?

It doesn't do to want to get rid ov a thing just becoss it isn't to yor

likin. Its advisable sometimes to have disagreeable things handy to give

a relish to what's moor appreciated, tho less sowt after. Ivverybody

will admit th' advantages ov gooid health, but nubdy can appreciate it

like one 'at's been sick. It's th' circumstances 'at surraand th' cases

'at accant for th' opinions we form.

If rich fowk sympathised as mich wi poor fowk, as poor fowk envy rich

fowk, ther'd be noa poverty. We all know that. But then it's what will

nivver happen.

A chap 'at's worried to deeath becoss his stocks or shares have dropt

fifty per cent connot enter into a poor woman's anxiety abaat flaar or

mait gooan up a penny a paand. What's nobbut an inconvenience to one is

starvation to another.

Ther's a deeal o' difference between poetry an philosophy, an aw connot

help thinkin 'at if poor fowk had less poetry an moor philosophy, an

rich fowk had visa versa, we should get nearer level an all be better

for it. If we could nobbut get ovver that waikness ov worshipin a chap

for what he has raythur nor for what he is we could simplyfy th' social

problem.

"Riches may depart,

Hopes dissolve in air,

But an honest heart

Still may laugh at care."

But ther's monny an honest heart 'at hasn't getten a laff left in it.

They know bi bitter experience, 'at

"The smiling lips decieve us,

With words that woo and win;

Our friends betray and leave us

When darker days begin."

But haivver dark th' prospect may be he's a fooil 'at gives way to

despair. Haivver bad things are, they mud be war; an when a chap ends

his life to get rid ov his trubbles, th' chonces are at th' tide wor

just abaat to turn if he could nobbut ha had pluck to wait.

Th' trubbles we have are seldom soa heavy 'at we connot bear em, tho it

may be hard wark, but when we're a bit cast daan, we dooant freeat hawf

as mich abaat what we have to put up wi, as to what's gooin to happen.

Imaginary evils are allus war to bide nor th' trubbles we railly have.

"Let to-morrow take care of to-morrow,

Leave things of the future to fate,

What's the use to anticipate sorrow?

Life's troubles come never too late.

If to hope over much be an error

'Tis one that the wise have preferred

And how often have hearts been in terror

Of evils that never occurred?"

Ther's summat for yo to think abaat, an let th' July sunshine enter into

yor hearts. It'll help to chase away th' claads o' care, an maybe,

buried hooaps may yet blossom into a harvest ov happiness an joy.

Fortun, they say knocks once at ivvery man's door, but varry oft th' man

doesn't happen to be in, an i' that case he sends his dowter, but ther's

nubdy getten a welcome for Miss Fortun, but once shoo gets in, shoo's a

beggar to stick. Better try to mak friends wi th' old man.

Earnin' a Honest Penny.

Sarah's that agravatin' sometimes, wol aw feel as if it wod do me gooid

to hav a reight swear at her--an' aw should do it, if it wornt for th'

fact at awr Tom's wed a lass at has a uncle 'at's a deacon at a chapil,

an' when a chaps respectably connected like that, aw think its as weel

to be a bit careful ov his tawk.

Nah aw'll gie yo a' instance, awd had a five bob bet on wi' a chap

called Uriah Lodge, it wor abaat hah mich a pig he wor baan to kill wod

weigh when it wor dressed, an' aw won. Uriah promised to pay mi o' Sundy

mornin', but insteead o' th' brass, ther coom'd a letter throo him to

say 'at he'd been havin' a tawk wi' a district visitor abaat it, an this

chap had soa convinced him o' th' evils o' bettin', 'at he'd decided at

he wodn't pay me, for if he did it wod do violence to his conshuns, but

if aw liked he'd send mi a fry o' pigs livver asteead. "Conshuns," aw

sed, "it's mooar like at it'll do violence to his britches pockets, aw

willn't have onny ov his muky pigs livver."

"What's to do nah," Sarah axed.

Soa aw tell'd her all abaat it, an ov cooarse aw expected at shoo'd side

wi' me,--but noa, shoo sed,

"Awm sewer aw respect Uriah for th' cooarse he's pursuin', aw hooap

it'll be a lesson to yo--what wor yo baan to do wi' th' brass?"

"Aw wor baan to buy a paand o' bacca wi' it," aw sed. Then shoo started

abaat bettin', an' horse racin', an' smookin', an' aw dooant know what

moor--yo'd a thowt aw wor th' warst chap i' all Maant Pleasant if yo'd

heeard her: an' shoo ended up wi' sayin' 'at shoo wished awd be a bit

mooar like a chap 'at lives next door to us called Martin Robertshaw.

"He doesn't bet," shoo sed, "he doesn't smook, hes a daycent gradely lad

is Martin, he wor off at hawf past eight this mornin' daan to th' Sundy

Schooil--yo'll nivver catch him drinkin' at public haases an' bettin'

abaat deead pigs--his missis is a lucky woman if ivver ther wor one."

Its noa use i' th' world tawkin' to Sarah when shoo gets reight on, soa

aw nivver spake a word wol shoo'd finished, an' then aw sed,

"Have yo finished yor sarmon, missis?"

"Yes," shoo went on, "it's noa gooid tawkin' to sich as yo, it's nobbut

wastin' breeath, yo'll goa yor own gate aw expect i' spite o' all aw can

say."

"Well," says I, "it's hawf past twelve, lets have us dinners for awm dry

after this storm, an' as its a fine day we'll goa up to th' top o'

Beacon Hill for a walk an' see th' view o' th' taan."

Soa we had us dinner an set off.

Beacon Hill's weel known i' Halifax, it soars up at th' bottom o' th'

taan as bare an' bald as a duck egg; ther's norther a tree, nor a shrub,

an' aw dooant think thers a blade o' grass that even a moke wod ait,

unless it belanged to a Irishman an' wor hawf clammed. It lets th' east

wind on to th' taan throo a hoil at one end, an it keeps th' mornin' sun

off, an' hides th' evenin' mooin. It grows nowt nobbut stooans covered

wi' sooit, an' smook throo th' gas haase hangs ovver it all day long

like a claad. But up at th' top thers some stooan delves, an' a field or

two whear they say reeal grass grows, an' i' support o' this noashun

somdy's had th' cheek to turn hawf a dozen cows aght, an' let 'em

pretend to graze,--of cooarse its all mak believe, for they mun gie th'

poor brewts summat to ait beside, or else th' inspector for crewelty to

annimals wod have been daan on em befoor nah.

It's a long gate up Beacon Hill--yo goa up New Bank an' ovver Godly

Brig, in between th' Bloody Field an' Saint Joseph's Schooil, an' then

reight up to th' top, an' if it wornt for th' fact at thears a gooid few

public haases o'th road aw dooant think 'at Sarah wod ivver have getten

to th' top at all; for shoo wor tuk bad wi' th' spasms jist at th' side

o' th' Pine Apple, an shoo had attacks ivvery few minnits wol we gate to

th' Albion, which is th' last licensed haase; but bi gooid luck they

didn't coom on after that, for as thers noawhear to get her onny thing

comfortin' if shoo'd been tuk agean, aw dooant know whativver aw should

ha done.

Well, we gate to th' top at last, an' sat daan to luk at th' view. It's

reight grand, an them at hasn't seen it should goa bi all means at once.

Yo can see all ovver th' taan--monny a thaasand chimleys all smokin' at

once, an' scoars o' mill's, an' ivvery nah an' then when th' wind blows

th' reek away, yo can see th' Bastile as plain as owt.

As we wor sittin' daan to rest we heeard sumdy tawkin' jist ovver th'

wall, soa we kept still a bit, an' varry sooin we heeard as mich cursin'

an' swearin' as owt to have filled a faandry for a wick.

"Whativver is ther to do," sed Sarah, "lets have a luck?"

We gate up, an' went an' luk'd throo a hoil i' th' wall, an' thear daan

in a bit ov a holler, soa 'at they couldn't be seen, wor abaat twenty

gurt strappin' young fellers tossin' coppers.

We hadn't been lukkin' moor nor a minnit or two, when a man wi' a red

beeard coom runnin' daan th' hill an' stopt abaat ten yards throo whear

th' chaps wor laikin' at pitch an' toss, an' he started o' writin'

summat daan in a book.

"Bobbies!" a chap shaated aght, an i' hawf a minnit ther wor nubdy to be

seen, nobbut th' new comer, for ivvery one on 'em had hooked it as fast

as if th' owd chap wor after 'em.

Then th' feller sammed up th' coppers, an' coom'd reight to whear we

wor, an' climbed ovver th' wall. He wor laffin like owt. When he'd

getten on to th' side whear we wor, he luk'd a bit surprised to see us,

but he sed nowt--soa Sarah axd him if be wor a poleeceman, an' if he wor

baan to report 'em at th' Taans Hall?

"Net aw," he sed, "awm noa bobby awm not, aw nobbut did it to flay 'em."

"But yo gate ther brass," aw sed.

"For sewer aw did," says he, "aw mak a day's wage at this trade ivvery

Sundy, it's th' best payin' professhun aght--aw gate seventeen pence

this mornin' at Ringby, an ther's eighteen pence here, that's three bob

nobbut a penny. Last Sundy aw addled three an' ninepence, at Siddal an'

Whitegate. Ther soa flayed if onnybody starts o' writin', 'at they hook

it like a express train, for they think yor takkin ther names daan."

When he'd sed this he brust aght laffin agean, an' sed to me, "Dooant

yo' knaw me?"

"Noa," aw sed, "but aw seem to knaw yor voice."

Then he ax'd Sarah if shoo didn't knaw him nawther?

"Aw've nivver clapt een on yo' befooar," Sarah sed.

He laft as if he wor baan to split for a bit, an' then he sed, "Luk

here, but yo' munnot split," an' he pull'd off his gurt red beard, an'

awm blow'd if it worn't Martin Robertshaw, th' chap 'at lives next door

to us.

Aw wor soa capt yo' could ha' shoov'd him ovver wi' yor little finger,

an' Sarah leaned up agean th' wall, an' aw thowt th' spasms wor comin'

on agean; but aw wor mista'an, for they didn't, at least not wol we gate

daan to th' Albion once mooar.

"Aw promised my missis a sewin' machine," Martin went on, "an' as brass

is soa hard to addle just nah, aw've had to start i' this line, an' it

pays weel to, an' ther's noa danger abaat it. A chap has to put his hand

to owt nah days to earn a honest penny--aw doan't call it chaitin' to

ease sich as yond on ther brass. But aw mun be off, aw've to goa daan to

Shibden yet, an' bizness befoor pleashur's my motto. An' he run daan th'

hill callin' aght 'at we worn't to tell his missis 'at we'd seen him.

"Nah then, lass," aw sed, "yo' wor sayin' a bit sin' 'at yo' wished aw

wor a bit mooar like yon chap,--what do yo' say nah?"

"Well," Sarah sed, "aw willn't say at aw exactly approve ov his goins

on, but onnyhah, yo'll admit at he's gettin' th' brass for a gooid

purpose; aw tell'd yo' at his wife wor a lucky woman, an' aw stick to mi

words."

"Then aw suppooas if awd sed aw wor baan to buy yo' a new bonnet wi'

Uriah Lodge's five bob, it 'ud hey been awl reet?"

"Circumstances alters cases as th' sayin' says," Sarah went on, "but yo'

wor baan to spend it i' baccy, an' aw shall still stick to what aw sed

this morn, 'at bettin's reeal wicked; but coom on, for aw feel as if th'

spasms wor comin' on mi agean, awm awl ov a tremmel, an' tawkin maks mi

war."

So we went daan to th' Albion, an' then hooam.

We wor just gooin to bed that neet, when Missis Robertshaw coom in, to

ax Sarah to lend her a rubbin bottle.

"Is somdy hurt?" Sarah ax'd.

"It's Martin," shoo sed, "he wor gooin daan to Shibden this afternooin,

to visit one ov his Sundy skollards 'ats badly; an' he happened bi ill

luck to coom on a reg'lar lot o' idle young fellers at wor laikin at

pitch an' toss. Martin connot bide wickedness o' noa sooart, soa he

stopt to tell 'em hah sinful gamblin' wor, 'specially on a Sundy, an'

hah mich better for 'em it 'ud be, if they'd put ther hard-addled brass

into th' Savins Bank, but asteead o' takkin his gooid advice, they set

on him an' beat him black an blue, an' robbed him o' three bob 'at he

had in his pockit, 'at had been subscribed for th' missionarys at th'

Sundy skooil."

"Is he mich war?" aw axed.

"His Sundy coit's all tore to ribbons, an his ankles sprained; one o'

his front teeth is knocked clean aght, an' his watch is gooan. Aw shall

be only too thankful if he gets to his wark in a fortneet."

"Hev yo' telled th' perleece?" Sarah sed.

"Noa," shoo sed, "it wodn't be noa sooart o' use tellin' them chaps,

they're too lazy to do owt nobbut draw ther wage,--besides, Martin's

that forgivin', 'at he says he'd rayther suffer i' silence nor let

onnybody be punished on his accant--but aw mun be off." An' shoo went

aght wi' th' bottle.

"Ther's a deal o' humbug i' this world," Sarah sed, when th' woman wor

gooan, "awm glad he's getten catched at last, aw mak nowt o' sich

decaitful fowk, robbin' poor people o' ther brass,--it's little enuff

'at we can finger honestly nah a days. Aw've been wantin a new bonnet

monny a week--Missis Lupton's getten one, an' shoo's getten a faal face

to put inside ov it two, an aw dooant like to be bet bi a woman like

that,--soa if yo' can get that five bob thro' Uriah, it'll come in

handy. Aw've sed times an times agean, 'at them Lodges wor th' nearest

fowk i' all Maant Pleasant, an' fowk owt to pay ther debts, whether it's

bettin or whether it isn't."

"Aw'll see him to morn."

"That's reight, lad, do, an' let's goa to bed nah, for we shall have a

rare gas nooat this quarter if we sit up like this."

Th' Next Mornin'.

Aw'll nivver get druffen noa mooar,

It's th' last time is this, an that's trew,--

For mi booans is all shakkin an sooar,

Throo th' craan o' mi hat, to mi shoe.

An mi skin, it's all cover'd wi' marks,

Some's blue, an some's black, an some's red;

Yo connot think ha mi heead warks,

An it feels just as heavy as lead.

Aw connot tell ha' aw gate fresh,

For aw didn't sup ovver mich drink,--

It's mi stummack 'at's weakly, aw guess,

It couldn't be nowt else aw' think,

For aw'd nobbut a gallon o' beer,

A couple o' whiskeys,--a rum,--

Happen two--for awm net varry clear

Hah monny--aw knaw aw hed some.

That's all, tho' aw'd happen a drop

Lat on, 'at aw knaw nowt abaat;

For th' lanlord he tell'd mi to stop,

When th' brass i' mi pocket runn'd aght,

Aw remember beein chuckt into th' street

At cloisin time, nothin noa mooar,--

An mi mates set mi up o' mi feet,

An propt me agean a hasse door.

All th' rest o' last neet is a blank,

Aw wonder who put mi to bed?

Awm sewer aw dooant knaw who to thank,

An aw connot reet think, for mi head--

Besides aw feel terrible sick,--

This drinkin, it isn't all bliss;

Aw expect aw'st be seedy a wick,

It's towt mi a lesson 'as this.

Christmas Oysters.

They tell me 'at in Orstralia they have Kursmas Day in th' middle o'

summer,--aw dooant knaw whether it's trew or net, for someha' them 'at's

been i' furrin pairts are varry mich addicted to th' practiss o' tellin

lies,--but if they hey ther Kursmiss i' summer, all aw con say is, 'at

it's a mistak; ov cooarse furriners can do as they like, but it allus

seems to me at th' best ov Kursmiss is at it cooms i'th middle o' winter

to cheer poor fowks' hearts when th' days is dark an gloomy. It's a

wonderful time is Kursmiss--all th' shops as ther winders dressed aght

wi' th' best things they hev, to mak a show, an gas leets shinin all up

an daan, an ther's geese an turkeys hangin up aghtside,--an yo' see

ivverybody lukkin as gooid humoured as if they'd getten some brass

gi'en.

Aw know nowt mooar pleasant nor to goa throo th' markits on th' neet

befoor Kursmiss, an luk at th' stawls an th' smilin faces all up an

daan.

Aw heeard a bit ov a stoary abaat Kursmiss a bit sin' 'at aw'll tell yo.

Ther wor a young lad at Dewsbury an he wor varry fond o' gooid

aitin,--it's net a varry uncommon complaint amang lads,--but this chap

wor mooar nor usual fond o' gooid things, an if ivver he gate hold ov

onny brass, he allus used to spend it awther at a pie shop, or on fish

fried wi' chipt puttates, or some other daintes o' that sooart.

It wor Kursmiss Eve last year, an he'd getten howd o' some copper bi

sweepin snaw off th' doorstuns for th' nabers, soa after he'd hed his

teah, he set off to fill hissen full o' summat tasty.

"Aw'll ha' summat reeal gooid to-neet," he sed, "as it's Kursmiss time."

He lukt into shops at tarts, an penny ducks, an blood puddins, an all

sooarts o' things; but he'd hed them all monny a time, an he wanted

summat fresh.

At last he went into th' markit place, an after he'd luk'd raand, wi'

th' brass fair burnin a hoil in his pocket for want o' spendin, he coom

to a stawl whear a chap wor shaatin aght:

"Hoisters! reeal natives! a penny apiece!"

Nah he'd nivver tasted a hoister i' all his life, it wor summat new, soa

he went up to th' chap an axt for one.

Th' man gate hold o' one an started o' oppenin it wi' his knife, but th'

lad sed--

"Howd on, aw say, that's a varry little en, aw want a reight daan big

un--th' biggest one yo' hev i'th place."

"If yo' want a reight big un," th' man sed, "aw con sewt yo' up to th'

mark," an he went behund th' stawl, an in a hawf minnit he coom back wi'

one abaat as big as a pan lid. It wor oppened, an th' fish wor liggin on

th' shell i'th center, abaat three inches across.

"Will this sewt yo'," he sed.

"That'll do," th' lad sed, "aw like a fair sized un."

He put some pepper an vinegar on it, an handed it to th' lad an sed, "Aw

dooant think yo' can manage it, sir."

He nivver spake, but tuk th' shell in his hand, an oppen'd his maath an

sukt it in. He'd to try two or three times befoor it went daan his

throit, an it nearly choakt him, but at last it went.

"Aw've done it," he sed wi' tears in his een, "Hah mich is ther to pay?"

"Nah, aw willn't mak noa charge," th' man answered, "yo've done weel, aw

didn't think yo' could ha' managed it, ther's three fowk tried at that

hoister to-neet, an a dog beside, but it lickt 'em all."

Th' lad turned away, an slipt behind a row o' stawls, an aw willn't say

onny mooar abaat what happened after.

Chairley's Coortin.

Chairley Dempster wor nobbut a little chap but he'd a varry big opinion

ov hissen. He'd consait enuff for hawf a duzzen. His mother wor a widdy

an he wor th' only child shoo'd ivver had an shoo set a deeal o' stoor

on him, an firmly believed at ther wornt another at wor fit to hold th'

cannel to him.

Noa daat this accanted for him havin sich a gooid opinion ov hissen.

They wornt varry weel to do, for when her husband deed, he'd nowt he

could leeav her except th' bit o' furnitur an th' babby.

Fowk thowt shoo'd be wed agean, but they wor mistaen. If it hadn't been

for havin Chairley happen shoo wod ha done, for shoo wor young an

strong, an varry gooidlukkin i'th bargain' an lots o' chaps wod ha thowt

thersen lucky if they could ha 'ticed her to buckle on wi 'em. But shoo

kept em all at a distance, an managed, wi weshin an cleeanin for fowk,

to mak as mich as kept her an her lad.

Shoo spoilt him, as wor to be expected, an denied hersen lots o' things

shoo badly needed to keep him weel donned, an shoo wor nivver as praad

as when shoo heeard somdy say at he lukt 'like a little gentleman.'

Shoo kept him at Schooil wol he wor fourteen, an he didn't shame his

taichers, an when he left he wor cliverer nor mooast lads ov his age.

Dooant run away wi th' idea at he wor a fine young gentleman, for he wor

nobbut a country lad, for he'd been browt up in a country place amang

country fowk, but he wor one o'th better sooart, an amang th' naybors

wor considered a bit ov a swell.

What trade to put him to bothered his mother aboon o' bit. Shoo could ha

liked to ha made him into a doctor or a parson, or shoo wodn't have

objected to startin him as th' president ov a bank, but sich things cost

brass an shoo wor varry poor. He could ha liked to ha been a sowger, but

he worn't big enuff, an sailerin didn't suit his stummack. At last he

had to be content to get into a grocer's shop as a lad abaat, and he wor

sixteen bi this time.

Th' maister sooin tuk a fancy to him, for he worked hard an steady, an

befoor he'd been thear a month he wor put behind th' caanter to wait on

customers. His mother wor ovverjoyed at this, an altho shoo wornt one

o'th biggest or best customers, ther wor nubdy went ofter to th' shop.

If shoo nobbut wanted two articles shoo went twice for em, an shoo wor

nivver in a hurry to get sarved, for the biggest pleasur shoo'd ivver

known wor to watch Chairley deal aght punds o' sewgar an cakes o' sooap.

But ther's noa pleasur i' this world at isn't mixt wi some pain, an it

wor soa i' her case. One day as shoo wor watchin him sarve a lass wi a

rasher o' bacon, an saw th' way he smiled at her an shoo tittered back

at him, struck her for th' furst time, at th' day might come when he'd

be somdy else's Chairley, an shoo'd hay to tak a back seeat.

When shoo went hooam shoo could think abaat nowt else, an shoo set

studyin abaat it soa long, at when he coom hooam to his supper ther wor

nowt ready for him, an th' foir wor aght.

"What's to do, mother?" he sed, "arn't yo weel or have yo nobbut just

getten hooam?"

"A'a, lad," shoo sed,--lukkin raand suspiciously, as if shoo wor feeard

he'd browt some lass wi him,--"aw dooant know what's to do. Aw just set

me daan to think a bit at time's flown by withaat me nooaticin it. Has

ta come straight hooam?"

"Hi,--aw allus coom straight hooam when mi wark's done."

"An did ta coom bi thisen all th' way?"

"Ov coorse aw coom bi misen. Did yo want me to fotch somdy wi mi?"

"Nay, lad. Aw hooap that day's far distant when tha'll bring onnybody

here to tak thi mother's place. Who wor that forrad young thing at tha

wor sellin that rasher o' bacon to when aw wor i'th shop?"

"Aw nobbut know her furst name. They call her Minnie, shoo's a sarvent

at that big haase at th' street corner."

"Minnie, do they call her? aw think Ninny wod be a name to suit her

better. Aw nivver saw her befoor i' mi life, but shoo's noa gooid, aw

saw that as sooin as aw clapt mi een on her. Aw hooap tha'll mind what

tha'rt dooin an have noa truck wi sichlike."

"Why, mother, aw've allus thowt her a varry gooid lass, an awm sewer

shoo's a bonny en."

"That's just whear it is. They allus are bonny are sich like as her. But

next time shoo cooms into th' shop just order her off abaat her

business. An see at tha does as aw tell thi. Shoo can get what shoo

wants at another shop at's nearer their haase. Its nooan yor bacon shoo

wants;--its thee shoo's after, but tha'rt sich a ninnyhammer at tha

can't see it."

"Yo must know, mother, 'at aw can't order her aght o'th shop. Awm sewer

shoo thinks nowt abaat me. Ther's nooan sich luck. Shoo's older nor me

bi ivver soa mich, an shoo could have onny chap i'th street if shoo'd to

put her finger up. Awm sewer aw dooant know what's put sich a nooation

into yor heead. But aw'll have mi supper if its ready."

"Come thi ways;--awm sooary aw've kept thi waitin, but tuk it into thi.

Tha'll get moor gooid aght o' that nor sich as her. Ther owt to be a law

to punish sichlike."

Chairley sed nowt noa moor, but he thowt a lot. To tell trewth, sich

thowts had nivver befoor entered into his heead. An if his mother had

nivver sed owt abaat it, it's possible they nivver wod. It wor Setterdy

neet, an as he wor anxious to be up i' gooid time at Sundy, he sed,

"Gooid neet," an went to bed. For th' furst time in his life he tossed

an roll'd abaat, an couldn't fall asleep. His mother had put that lass

into his heead an he couldn't get her aght. He'd allus thowt her a nice

lass, but he'd nivver known ha bonny shoo wor till then.

"A'a!" he sighed, "awd goa throo foir an watter for sich a lass as her."

An th' upshot on it wor, at when at last he did fall asleep, it wor to

dream at he'd wed an angel just like her, an he wakkened to find th'

bolster cuddled up in his arms. Sundy passed someway, but nawther

schooil nor sarmon did him onny gooid. Unconsciously he'd set up an idol

an wor worshippin it wi all th' strength ov his young heart.

As he went to his wark next mornin, he happened to catch th' seet ov

hissen as he passed a shop winder, an for th' furst time he felt ha

little he wor.

Ommost fust customer to enter th' shop wor Minnie. Shoo wanted a duzzen

fresh eggs. Chairley's face went as red as a pickled cabbage, an when he

went to get em his hands tremeled soa at he smashed two.

"Oh, what a pity," sed Minnie.

"Oh, net at all, awm quite used to it," he stammered. Then Minnie stared

at him an laft, an he tried to laff to, an one oth' shop lads gave a

guffaw an this soa nettled Chairley 'at he samd th' bag wi th' eggs in

an sent it flyin at his heead, an gave it sich a crack at th' bag wor

brussen, an th' eggs all smashed wor sylin daan throo his heead to his

feet, an just then th' maister walked in.

Minnie stood stupified an Chairley seized his hat an ran aght at th'

back door. Wol th' lad wor splutterin an slobberin, an th' maister

doncin mad, Minnie slipt aght an bowt her eggs at another shop. But shoo

couldn't get Chairley aght of her mind. Shoo'd allus admired him, an

thowt what a gooid husband he'd mak for somdy when he gate a bit older;

an nah shoo saw as plainly as could be ha matters stood, an guessed as

near trewth as if Chairley had tell'd her all abaat it.

It wor lat on ith' day when Chairley slunk into th' shop, an th' maister

mooationed for him to step into th' private office. What tuk place aw

dooan't exactly know, but when they coom aght Chairley lukt varry warm,

an th' maister had a grin on his face at wor a gooid sign.

Three or four days passed, an Minnie nivver entered that shop. Chairley

tried to feel thankful, for he didn't know ha to face her, an yet he wor

miserable, for he felt as if he couldn't live withaat her.

Just as he wor turnin th' corner oth' street on his way hooam,--it wor

ommost dark an he wor in a varry low kay;--a voice cloise to him sed,

"What's the price of fresh eggs to-day, Chairley?"

Chairley felt like jumpin aght ov his skin, as he turned raand an saw

Minnie, laffin all ovver her face an lukkin moor bewitchinly bonny nor

ivver.

"A'a, Minnie! Miss Minnie, aw meean;--Aw have to beg yo pardon. Aw'll

nivver do it agean as long as aw live. Will yo forgie me this time, an

coom to th' shop as usual?"

"Has the shop-boy forgiven you?"

"Aw care nowt abaat him."

"But the master?"

"Oh' he's all reight, but when aw gate to know who yo wor, they could ha

fell'd me wi a feather."

Minnie had stept back into th' shadder oth' porch an wor sittin on th'

step. Chairley wor ith' shadder o'th' porch too. All wor varry quiet for

a long time an when th' mooin peept aght an sent a mild soft leet into

that same porch, it showed a couple sittin varry cloise together.

When Chairley went hooam that neet, he wor th' mooast important chap, in

his own estimation, at lived i' that taan. His mother had been uneasy

for th' past few days, for shoo saw ther wor summat wrang, an shoo

nooaticed th' change in him as sooin as he went in. "Has things gooan

reight wi thi to-day, Chairley?" shoo ventured to ax him.

"Nivver better, Mother;--Nivver better!"

But shoo felt sewer ther wor summat undernaith, an shoo wor detarmined

to find it aght. Shoo knew at Chairley wodn't be at th' shop next

mornin, as it wor his day to goa seekin orders, soa shoo waited till

he'd getten off, an then shoo went to see his maister.

"Come this way, Mrs. Dempster," he sed when he saw her, "what can we do

for you this morning?"

"Aw wanted to spaik to yo if yo pleeas. Awd like to know if my son has

been havin onny trubble latly?"

"Well, my dear Madam, troubles come to all on us at times. I dare say

Charley has had a little trouble,--just a minimum."

"Aw mud ha known it! But if yond Minnie doesn't let my lad alooan aw'll

mak this taan too hot for her. Shoo owt to be smoored an all sichlike."

"Excuse me, Mrs. Dempster, but if you are alluding to my niece Minnie, I

must ask you to speak with more respect, for she is as good as she is

good-looking, and that is saying a great deal."

"Yo dooan't meean to say shoo's yor neese sewerly."

"She is my niece and your boy's sweetheart. They were engaged last night

with my full consent, and a nice young couple they are. If all goes

well, they are to be married when Charley comes of age, and will then

succeed me in this business."

"Laws-a-mercy on us! Well,--well. An a nice lass shoo is too," an off

shoo set to think things ovver agean.

Shoo nivver agean interfered wi his coortin. They're wed nah. Shoo lives

wi em, but shoo can't understand why they allus laff if shoo sets em

fresh eggs for ther braikfast.

What a Gallus Button did.

One Friday neet last summer, ther wor a braik daan at th' shop 'at Dick

Taylor worked at, just befoor stoppin time, soa th' ovverlukker telled

him 'at it wor noa use his comin i'th mornin, as they wodn't be able to

start th' engine agean wol Mundy.

Dick worn't sorry, for it wor fine weather, an' he thowt a day's

halliday ud be varry pleasant. When he gate hooam, he telled his missis

'at he wor baan to laik th' next day, an' shoo sed,

"Naah, Dick, ther's a chonce for yo to pleeas me--yo know aw've axed yo

all th' summer to tak me raand to see th' parks i' Bradforth, for aw've

nivver seen one on em, exceptin Lister's, an' that's becoss it's soa

near--they tell me 'at th' flaars i' Peel's park, an' up at Horton, are

reeal beautiful."

"We'll goa, Mary," Dick sed, "an' up to Bowlin Park too."

Shoo gave him a kuss, an' gate him his teah, an' let him keep a shillin

aght o' his wage, to get some cigars wi' for him to smook when they wor

aght th' next day. After braikfast i'th mornin they set off.

They lived near th' Stashun at Manningham, in a haase off Valley Road,

soa they cut across, an' ovver th' canal, an' up bi Spinkwell, into th'

main road for Peel Park. It wor varry hot, soa bi th' time they gate

into th' park, an' lukt at th' flaar beds daan bi th' lake, an' climbed

up on to th' terrace, they wor varry glad to sit daan on a seeat near to

whear th' band stand is.

Ther's a grand view thro' thear, yo can see reight ovver Bradforth as

far as Lister's Milns, an' Queensbury--th' sun wor shinin, an' Dick wor

just leetin one o'th cigars when a young man abaat two or three an'

twenty coom daan th' walk, huggin' a basket--when he seed em he stopt,

an' sed:--

"Can yo give me a match, mate?"

"Eah," Dick sed, "hear's a box, help thisen,"--when he'd leeted his

pipe, Mary sed, "This is a varry nice park, sir."

"I," he answered, "an' it's a nice place for coortin in, on a neet when

th' band isn't playin--you cannot coom here ov a evenin withaat findin

abaat hawf a scooar o' cupples--yo see it's net too near th' taan, wol

it's nice an' quiet--but it's net too lonely nawther, a decent lass can

coom here wi' her sweetheart, an' nawther her mother nor nubdy else can

say owt agean it, for ther's allus somdy awther commin or gooin."

"Yo seem to know it well?" Dick sed to th' young feller.

He wor nobbut a ugly chap, but when Dick sed this, he smiled wol he wor

nearly nice lukkin, an' his een twinkled wi' fun, as he sed,

"Aw should think aw do know it, an' aboon a bit too, why aw wor

rewinated net hawf a yard thro' whear yor missis is sittin."

Mary jumped up as if th' seat wor baan to bite her, an' her nelly

tummeld reight thro' th' railin, an' ligged among th' shrubs on the

slope abaat ten feet below.

When th' young feller seed that, he fair skriked aght wi' laffin, but

befoor Dick could do owt, he wor ovver th' railin, an had getten her

umberel up agean.

"It wor a nelly tumblin daan like that at did for me," says he, "but aw

see yor maized, soa aw'll tell yo all abaat it;" soa he sat daan on th'

seat beside me, an' he began.

"When aw furst coom a workin to Bradforth, abaat three year sin, aw

lodged wi' a young feller 'at lived i' Otley Road--we slept i'th same

room; an' one Sundy mornin as we wor dressin, aw sed to him, 'at aw wor

flayed aw should have to buy a new pair o' Sundy britches, for them aw

hed getten wor wore varry shabby.

"'Aw'll sell yo a pair,' he sed; an' he pulled a pair aght ov a box, 'aw

bowt em off th' pegs, an' gave fifteen bob for em, noa mooar nor a year

sin--but aw nivver liked em--aw wor em when mi sister wor wed, an when

aw went to Blackpool for a wick last July, an' that's all, yo shall have

em for eight bob, an it's a bargain sich as yo willn't get ivvery day.'

"They wor reeal smart traasers, an' to mak a long stooary short, aw bowt

em; an' that evenin, aw wor gooin aght a walkin wi' a lass 'at aw knew,

soa aw wore em to luk smart like. Aw wor thinner then than aw am nah,

for aw've filled aght a bit sin aw wor wed; but this chap 'at aw bowt em

off, wor hawf as fat agean as aw wor, a reglar porker, fit for killin;

an' when aw coom to put th' britches on, aw fun aght, 'at they wor ivver

soa mich to wide for me raand th' waist--that worn't th' warst o' it,

for aw fun aght also 'at fower aght o'th six gallus buttons wor off--but

aw hadn't time to sew onnymooar on, soa wi' a bit a bother aw made em

do.

"Well, aw set off wi' th' new traasers on--it's trew 'at they wor

hitched up that high 'at aw worn't a bit comfortable, an' ther wor as

mich room in em as wod nearly have done for two like me, but as me tail

coit hid it aw didn't mind that, an' aw felt a reeal swell, aw can tell

yo, for they wor th' leetest coloured pair 'at ivver awd ivver had i' my

life. Amy wor waitin o' me, an' we walked daan here to Peel's Park, an'

sat on this varry seeat."

"Awm gettin varry interested," Mary sed, when he stopt to leet his pipe

'at had gooan aght, "goa on wi' yor tale."

He puffed away for a minnit, an then went on:--"Someha or other Amy's

nelly slipt in between th' railins like yor's did a bit sin, an aw wor

ovver th' fence after it like a shot,--but when aw wor climbin up agean,

my golly, if one o'th two remainin buttons didn't snap cleean off, aw

think th' thread mun ha' been as rotten as apples,--luckily aw wor just

on th' top o'th rail, or aw dooan't knaw what aw should ha done, but aw

managed to get on to th' seat, an thear aw sat."

Mary an Dick booath started o' laffin, an Dick sed, "Well, an ha did yo'

goa on?"

"It wor noa laffin matter for me aw con tell yo',--it wor summer time,

an not dark wol nearly ten o'clock, an it wor nobbut eight then. Amy

faand aght in a minnit 'at summat wor wrang, but shoo sed nowt, an aw

kept it quiet as long as aw could, wishin at th' sun 'ud luk sharp an

goa daan, but asteead o' that, it seemed to me 'at it wor gooin higher

up ivvery minnit. Soa when shoo'd sed at shoo wor chilly, an wanted to

walk a bit, abaat hawf a duzzen times, aw wor forced to tell her th'

truth. Aw expected shoo'd a made fun o' me, but shoo didn't; shoo lukked

reeal consarned abaat it, an sed shoo wor varry sorry for th' mishap,

but we'd stop whear we wor till it wor dark. Soa we sat thear for a bit,

an then shoo sed,

"'It ud be a deeal better for yo if yo hed sumdy to luk after yor clooas

far yo.'

"Mi mother lives up at Keighley," aw sed, "an it's soa far shoo connot,

an th' lanlady's hawf blind."

"'Well,' Amy went on, 'but if yo'd hed a wife, shoo'd do all sich things

as that for yo.'

"Someha' or other mi arm slipt raand her waist, an aw willn't tell yo'

noa mooar; long befoor th' sun hed set, an it went daan sooin enuff nah,

it wor all sattled."

"'All's weel at ends weel,'" Dick sed.

"Eeah," th' young feller sed, "but aw'll tak mi solem Alfred Davey 'at

when aw put them thear britches on, aw'd noa mooar thowts o' bein wed,

nor aw hed o' be in hang'd. Aw'd nobbut gooan aght walkin wi' Amy to

pass th' time away, as young fellers will do."

"Awm sewer aw hooap shoo's made yo a gooid wife," sed Mary.

"Nivver a chap hed a better wife i' all th' world nor aw hev," sed he,

"but yo' shall coom in an see her, we live i' them haases at th' end

o'th Corperashun Quarries daan thear. Coom on."

Dick explained 'at they wor gooin to see th' other Parks, but he wodn't

ha' noa refusal.

"Yo' con goa to-morn to Horton,--coom on, an me an Amy 'll goa wi' yo'

to Bowlin Park this afternooin, we've nivver been sin it wor oppened."

He wor soa pressin 'at they went an hed ther drinkins wi him an Amy,--an

he show'd 'em th' britches 'at hed been the cause ov it all. They went

to Bowlin i'th afternooin, an sin' then they've oftens had a bit ov a

aght together.