Yorkshire Tales Volume III Part 19

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 s.h.i.+bden 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 bra.s.s 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 n.o.bbut 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 bra.s.s,--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 n.o.bbut 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' bra.s.s 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 ha.s.se 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 cooa.r.s.e 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 s.h.i.+nin 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 bra.s.s 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 bra.s.s, 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' bra.s.s 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' sh.e.l.l 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' sh.e.l.l 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.