n W-/& m. "5| .ll mlc 'tfdL^ -P* - ■ . -.— «-r- THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES Yorkshire Ditties, By John Hartley, MAY NOW BE HAD: THE SECOND SERIES 07 Hartley's Yoi^kshire piTxiES. iSORKSHIRE >m ilTTIES; BY JOHN HARTLEY; TO WHICH IS ADDED The Ci^eam of Wit and Humour, From his Popular Writings, JFtrst Series. LONDON: W. NICHOLSON & SONS, 6, PATERNOSTER SQUARE, E.G., AND ALBION WORKS, WAKEFIELD. [ENTERED AT STATIONERS' HALL.] INTRODUCTION. the First Volume of the Yorkshire Ditties has been for some time out of print, and as there is a great de- mand for the very humorous productions of Mr. Hartley's pen, it has been decided to reprint that Volume, and also a Second One ; both to be considerably enlarged and en- riched by Selections from Mr. Hartley's other humorous writings. The Publishers would also intimate that for this purpose they have purchased of Mr. Hartley the copyright of the Ditties, and other Pieces appended to each Volume. The Publishers presume that both Volumes will, on account of their great humour, be favourably received by the Public. ^8S86S CONTENTS OF FIRST SERIES. POETRY. PAGR. Aght 0' Wark ii Another Babby £6 Bite Bigger 1 Babby Burds 11 Lines on Finding a Butterfly i n a Weaving Shed ... 40 Lily's Gooan 64 My Native Twang 67 Plenty o' Brass 12 Persevere 1i Stop at Hooam 28 Shoo's thi' Sister ... 70 To th' Swallow JO Th' Little Stranger IS That's a Fact 2S The Short Timer 32 Th' First o'th' Soart 3S The New Year's Resolve 45 The Old Bachelor's Story 4; Th' Little Black Hand ... S9 To a Roadside Flower 76 Uncle Ben 42 Wayvin Mewsic 22 PROSE PIECES. April Fooils 86 C'leanin' Dean Month 125 End o'th' Year 138 Flaar Shows 95 Force of Example 99 Fooils 121 Gunpaader Plot 100 Hay-making 129 HoUingworth Lake 133 Information 91 March Winds 83 Meditated Strike ... 106 Mysterious Disappearance 116 New Year's Parties 107 (Jctober Ale 97 I'oliceman's Scrape 8g PloKues 137 Smiles, Tears, (jetting on J12 Sam it up 117 Scientific 141 The New Year 77 Th' Last Month 103 Valentine Day 80 Valentine I>ream . 142 Watterin* Places 92 lite f i90«t 'S aw hurried throo th' taan to mi wark, (Aw wur lat, for all th' whistles had gooan,) Aw happen'd to hear a remark, 'At ud fotch tears throo th' heart ov a stooan. — It wur raanin, an' snawin, and cowd, An' th' flagstoans wur covered wi' muck, An' th' east wind booath whistled an' howl'd, It saanded like nowt but ill luck ; When two little lads, donn'd i' rags, Baght stockins or shoes o' ther feet, Coom trapesin away ower th' flags, Booath on 'em sodden'd wi*th' weet. — Th' owdest mud happen be ten, Th' young en be hauf on't, — noa moor; YOI^KSHII^E DITTIES. As aw luk'd on, aw sed to misen, God help fowk this weather 'at's poor ! Th' big en sam'd summat off th' graand, An' aw luk'd just to see what 't could be ; 'Twur a few wizend flaars he'd faand, An' they seera'd to ha fill'd him wi glee : An' he sed, " Come on, Billy, may be We shall find summat else by an by, An' if net, tha mun share thease wi me When we get to some spot where its dry." Leet-hearted they trotted away. An' aw follow'd, coss 't\vur i' mi rooad ; But aw thowt awd nee'er seen sich a day — It worn't fit ta be aght for a tooad. Sooin th' big en agean slipt away, An' sam'd summat else aght o'th' muck. An' he cried aght, " Luk here. Bill ! to-day Am't we blest wi' a seet o' gooid luck ? Here's a apple ! an' th' mooast on it's saand : What's rotten aw'll throw into th' street — Worn't it gooid to ligg thear to be faand ? Nah booath on us con have a treat," Soa he wiped it, an' rubb'd it, an' then Sed, " Billy, thee bite off a bit; J- YOI\KSHII\E DITTIES. If tha hasn't been lucky thisen Tha shall share wi' me sich as aw get." Soa th' little en bate off a touch, T'other's face beamed wi' pleasur all throo, An' he said, " Nay, tha hasn't taen much, Bite a°ean, an' bite bigger ; nah do T Aw waited to hear nowt noa moor, — Thinks aw, thear's a lesson for me ! Tha's a heart i' thi breast, if tha'rt poor : Th' world wur richer wi' moor sich as thee ! Tuppince wur all th' brass aw had, An' awd ment it for ale when coom nooin, But aw thowt aw'll goa give it yond lad. He desarves it for what he's been dooin ; Soa aw sed, " Lad, here's tuppince for thee. For thi sen," — an' they stared like two geese ; But he sed, woll th' tear stood in his e'e, " Nah, it'll just be a penny a piece." " God bless thi ! do just as tha will, An' may better days speedily come ; Tho' clam'd, an' hauf donn'd, mi lad, still Tha'rt a deal nearer Heaven nur some." Mo iV ^luMxi ^^ONNY burd ! aw'm fain to see thee, J For tha tells ov breeter weather ; But aw connot quite forgi thee, Connot love thee altogether. 'Tisn't thee aw fondly welcome — 'Tis the cheerin news tha brings, Tellin us fine weather will come, When we see thi dappled wings. But aw'd rayther have a sparrow, Rayther hear a robin twitter ; Tho' they may net be thi marrow, May net fly wi' sich a glitter j YORKSHIRE DITTIES. 11 But they niver leeav us, niver — Storms may come, but still they stay ; But th' first wind 'at ma's thee shiver, Up tha mounts an' flies away. Ther's too mony like thee, swallow, 'At when fortun's sun shines breet, Like a silly buzzard follow, Doncin raand a bit o' leet. But ther's few like Robin redbreast, Cling throo days o' gloom an' care ; Soa aw love mi old tried friends best- Fickle hearts aw'll freely spare. IWtt 0' Itass. A ! it's grand to ha' plenty o' brass ! It's grand to be able to spend A trifle sometimes on a glass For yorsen, or sometimes for a friend To be able to bury yor neive Up to th' shackle i' silver an' gowd, An', 'baght pinchin', be able to save A wee bit for th' time when yor owd. A'a ! it's grand to ha' plenty o' brass ! To be able to set daan yor fooit Withaght ivver thinkin' — bith' mass ! 'At yor wearin' soa mitch off yor booit To be able to walk along th' street, An* stand at shop windows to stare, An' net ha' to beat a retreat . If yo' scent a " bum bailey" i' th' air. YORKSHIRE DITTIES. 13 A'a ! it's grand to ha' plenty o' brass ! To be able to goa hoam at neet, An' sit i'th' arm-cheer bith' owd lass, An' want nawther foir nor leet ; To tak' th' childer a paper o' spice, Or a pictur' to hing up o' th' wall ; Or a taste ov a summat 'at's nice For yor friends, if they happen to call. A'a ! it's grand to ha' plenty o' brass ! Then th' parsons '11 know where yo' live : If yo'r' poor, it's mooast likely they'll pass, An' call where fowk's summat to give, Yo' may have a trifle o' sensc,^ An' yo' may be both upright an' true But that's nowt, if yo' can't stand th' expense Ov a hoal or a pairt ov a pew. A'a ! it's grand to ha' plenty o' brass ! An' to them fowk at's getten a hoard, This world seems as smooth as a glass. An' ther's flaars o' boath sides o'th' road ; But him 'at's as poor as a maase, Or, happen, a little i* debt, He mun point his noas up to th' big haase, An' be thankful for what he can get. H YOI^KSHIRE DITTIES. A'a ! it's grand to ha' plenty o' chink ! But doan't let it harden yor heart : Yo' 'at's blessed wi' abundance should think An' try ta do gooid wi' a part ! An' then, as yor totterin' daan, An' th' last grains o' sand are i'th glass, Yo' may find 'at yo've purchased a craan Wi' makkin gooid use o' yor brass. MK pittfe Mtm^n, ^ITTLE bonny, bonny babby, How tha stares, an' weel tha may, For its but an haar, or hardly, Sin' tha furst saw th' leet o' day. A'a ! tha little knows, young moppet, Ha aw'st have to tew for thee ; May be when aw'm forced to drop it, 'At tha'll do a bit for me. Are ta maddled, mun, amang it ? Does ta wonder what aw mean ? Aw should think tha does, but dang it ! Where's ta been to leearn to scream ? That's noa sooart o' mewsic, bless thee ! Dunnot peawt thi lip like that ! Mun, aw hardly dar to nurse thee, Feared awst hurt thee, little brat. 10 YOI\KSHIRE DITTIES. Come, aw'll tak thee to thi mother; Shoo's moor used to sich nor me : Hands like mine worn't made to bother Wi sich ginger-breead as thee. Innocent an' helpless craytur, All soa pure an' undefiled ! If ther's ought belangs to heaven Lives o'th' eearth, it is a child. An its hard to think, 'at some day, If tha'rt spared to weather throo, 'At tha'll be a man, an' someway Have to feight life's battles too. Kings an' Queens, an' lords an' ladies, Once wor nowt noa moor to see ; An' th' warst wretch 'at hung o'th' gallows, Once wor bom as pure as thee. An' what tha at last may come to, God aboon us all can tell ; But aw hope 'at tha'll be lucky, Even tho aw fail mysel. Do aw ooin thee ? its a pity ! Hush ! nah prathi dunnot freat ! Goa an' snoozle to thi titty Tha'rt too young for trouble yet. ^M^ f ttwb. wander'd aght one summer's mom, Across a meadow newly shorn ; Th' sun wor shinin' breet and clear, An' fragrant scents rose up i'th' air, An' all wor still. When, as my steps wor idly rovin. Aw coom upon a seet soa lovin ! It fiU'd mi heart wi' tender feelin. As daan aw sank beside it, kneelin O'th' edge o'th' hill. It wor a little skylark's nest, An' two young babby burds, undrest, Wor gapin wi' ther beaks soa wide, Callin' for mammy to provide Ther mornin's meal ; i8 YOF^SHIRE DITTIES. An' high aboon ther little hooam, Th' saand o' daddy's warblin coom, Ringin' soa sweetly o' mi ear, Like breathins thro' a purer sphere, He sang soa weel. Ther mammy, a few yards away, Wor hoppin' on a bit o' hay, Too feard to come, too bold to flee ; An' watchin me wi' troubled e'e. Shoo seem'd to say : " Dooant touch my bonny babs, young man ! Ther daddy does the best he can To cheer yo with his sweetest song ; An' thoase '11 sing as weel, ere long, Soa let 'em stay." "Tha needn't think aw'd do 'em harm— Come shelter 'em and keep 'em warm ! For aw've a little nest misel. An' two young babs, aw'm praad to tell, 'At's precious too ; An' they've a mammy watching thear, 'At howds them little ens as dear, An' dearer still, if that can be. Nor what thease youngens are to thee, Soa come, — nah do ! YOF^KSHIRE DITTIES. I9 " A'a well ! — tha'rt shy, tha hops away, — Tha doesn't tnist a word aw say ; Tha thinks aw'm here to rob an' plunder, An' aw confess aw dunnot wonder — But tha's noa need ; Aw'll leave yo to yorsels, — gooid bye ! For nah aw sec yor daddy's nigh ; He's dropt that strain soa sweet and strong ; He loves yo better nor his song — He does indeed," Aw walk'd away, and sooin mi ear Caught up the saand o' warblin clear ; Thinks aw, they're happy once agean ; Aw'm glad aw didn't prove so mean To rob that nest ; For they're contented wi ther lot, Nor envied me mi little cot ; An' in this world, as we goa throo, It is'nt mich gooid we can do, An' do awr best. Then let us do as little wrong To ony as we pass along. An' never seek a joy to gain 'At's purchased wi another's pain, It isn't reet. 20 yoi\k:shii\e ditties. Aw shall goa hooam wi' leeter heart, To mend awr Johnny's little cart : (He alius finds me wark enough To piecen up his brocken stufif, For every neet.) An' Sally — a'a ! if yo could see her ! When aw sit daan to get mi teah, Shoo puts her dolly o' mi knee, An' maks me sing it " Hush a bee," I'th' rocking chcar ; Then begs some sugar for it too; What it can't ait shoo tries to do ; An' turnin up her cunnin e'e, Shoo rubs th' doll maath, an says, " yo see, It gets its share." Sometimes aw'm rayther cross, aw fear ! Then starts a little tremblin tear, 'At, like a drop o' glitt'rin dew Swimmin within a wild flaar blue, Falls fro ther e'e ; But as the sun in April shaars Revives the little droopin flaars, A kind word brings ther sweet smile bacK : Aw raylee think mi brain ud crack If they'd ta dee. A. YOI\KSHII^ DITTIES. 21 Then if aw love my bairns soa vveel, May net a skylark's bosom feel As mich consam for th' little things 'At snooze i'th' shelter which her wings Soa wcel afifoards ? If fowk wod nobbut bear i' mind How mich is gained by bein' kind, Ther's fewer breasts wi' grief ud swell, An' fewer fowk ud thoughtless mell Even o'th' burds. W^^vh ^m^u. JHER'S mewsic i'th' shuttle, i'th' loom, an i'th frame, Ther's melody mingled i'th' noise, For th' active ther's praises, for th' idle ther's blame. If they'd hearken to th' saand of its voice ; An' when flaggin a bit, ha refreshin to feel As yo pause an luk raand on the throng, At the clank o' the tappet, the hum o' the wheel. Sing this plain unmistakable song : — Nick a ting, nock a ting ; Wages keep pocketing ; Workin for little is better nor laiking ; Twist an' twine, reel an' wind j Keep a contented mind ; Troubles are oft ov a body's own making. YOI^SHII\E DITTIES. 23 To see workin fowk wi' a smile o' ther face As they labor thear day after day ; An' hear 'th women's voices float sweetly throo 'th place, As they join i' some favorite lay; It saands amang th' din, as the violet seems 'At peeps aght th' green dockens among, An' spreading a charm over th' rest by its means. Thus it blends i' that steady old song • Nick a ting, nock a ting ; Wages keep pocketing ; Workin for little is better nor laiking; Twist an' twine, reel an' wind ; Keep a contented mind ; Troubles are oft ov a body's own making. An* then see what lessons are laid out anent us, As pick after pick follows time after time, An' warns us tho' silent, to let nowt prevent us From strivin by little endeavours to climb ; Th' world's made o' trifles ! its dust forms a moun- tain ! Then niver despair as you're trudgin along 3 If troubles will come an' yor spirits dishearten, Yo'll find ther's relief i' that steady old song ; .J 24 YOI\KSHIRE DITTIES. Nick a ting, nock a ting ; Wages keep pocketing ; Working for little is better nor laiking ; Twist an' twine, reel an' wind ; Keep a contented mind ; Troubles are oft ov a body's own making. Life's warp comes throo Heaven, th' weft's fun bi us sen; To finish a piece we're compell'd to ha booath. Th' warp's reight, but if th' weft should be faulty — ha then? Noa wayver i' th' world can produce a gooid clooath ; Then let us endeavour, bi working and striving, To finish awr piece soa's noa fault can be fun ; An' then i' return for awr pains an contriving, Th' takker in '11 reward us an' whisper ' well done. ' Clink a clank, clink a clank, Workin withaat a thank, May be awr fortun — if soa never mind it 1 Striving to do awr best, We shall be reight at last, If we lack comfort nah, then shall we find it. ®Wsi a ^ut 5'A Mary aw'm glad 'at that's thee ! > Aw need thy advice, lass, aw'm sure ; Aw'm all ov a mooild tha can see, Aw wor never i' this way afoor, Aw've net slept a wink all th' neet throo ; Aw've been twirling abaght like a worm, An' th' blankets gate felter'd, lass, too — Tha niver saw cloas i' sich form. Aw'll tell thee what 't all wor abaght — But promise tha'll keep it reight squat, For aw wodn't for th' world let it aght ; But aw can't keep it in — tha knows that. We'd a meetin at th' schooil yesterneet, An' Jimmy wor thear, — tha's seen Jim ? An' he hutch'd cloise to me in a bit, To ax me for th* number o'th' hymn ; 26 yo^k:shii\e ditties. Aw tliowt 't wor a gaumless trick, For he heeard it geen aght th' same as me ; An' he just did th' same thing tother wick, — It made fowk tak noatice, dos't see. An' when aw wor gooin towards hooam Aw heeard som'dy comin behund : 'Twor pitch dark, an' aw thowt if they coom, Aw should varry near sink into th' graund. Aw knew it wor Jim bi his traid, An' aw tried to get aght ov his gate ; But a'a ! tha minds, lass, aw wor flaid, Aw wor niver i' sich en a state. Then aw felt som'dy's arm raand my shawl. An' aw said, " nah, leave loise or aw'U screeam ! Can't ta let daycent lasses alooan, Consam thi up ! what does ta mean ?" But he stuck to mi arm like a leach, An' he whispered a word i' mi ear ; It took booath my breeath an' my speech. For aw'm varry sooin thrown aght o' gear. Then he squeezed me cloise up to his sel, An' he kussed me, i' spite o' mi teeth : Aw says, " Jimmy, forshame o' thisel !" As sooin as aw'd getten mi breeath : But he wodn't be quiet, for he said YOI^KSHIRE DITTIES. 27 'At he'd loved me soa true an' soa long — Aw'd ha' geen a ear off my yed To get loise — but tha knows he's soa strong- Then he tell'd me he wanted a wife, An' he begged 'at aw wodn't say nay ; — Aw'd ne'er heeard sich a tale i' mi life, Aw wor fesen'd whativer to say ; Cos tha knows aw've a likin' for Jim ; But yo can't alius say what yo mean, For aw tremeld i' ivery limb, But at last aw began to give way, For, raylee, he made sich a fuss. An aw kussed him an' all — for they say, Ther's nowt costs mich less nor a kuss. Then he left me at th' end o' awr street. An' aw've felt like a fooil all th' neet throo; But if aw should see him to neet, Wliat wod ta advise me to do ? But dooant spaik a word — tha's noa need, For aw've made up mi mind ha to act, For he's th' grandest lad iver aw seed, An' aw like him th' best too — that's a fact !" Moi^ at Mmm, "?3 HA wodn't goa an leave me, Jim, AH lonely by mysel ? My een at th' varry thowts grow dim- Aw connot say farewell. Tha vow'd tha couldn't live unless Tha saw me every day, An' said tha knew noa happiness When aw wor foorced away. An th' tales tha towld, I know full vveel, Wor true as gospel then ; What is it, lad, 'at ma's thee feel Soa strange — unlike thisen? Ther's raam enuff, aw think tha'll find, I'th taan whear tha wor bom, To mak a livin, if tha'll mind To ha' faith i' to-morn. YORKSHIRE DITTIES. 29 Avv've mony a time goan to mi wark Throo chads o' rain and sleet ; All's seem'd soa dull, soa drear, an' dark, It ommust mud be neet. But then, when braikfast time's come raand, Aw've seen th' sun's cheerin ray, An' th' heavy lukkin claads have slunk Like skulkin lads away. An' then bi nooin it's shooan soa breet Aw've sowt some shade to rest, An' as aw've paddled hooam at neet, Glorious it's sunk i'th west. An' tho' a claad hangs ovver thee, (An' trouble's hard to bide), Have patience, lad, an' wait an' see What's hid o'th' tother side. If aw wor free to please mi mind, Aw'st niver mak this stur ; But aw've a mother ommust blind. What mud become o' her? Tha knows shoo cared for me, when waik An' helpless ivery limb , Aw'm feeard her poor owd heart ud braik If aw'd to leave her, Jim. 30 YOI^SHIRE DITTIES. Aw like to hear thee talk o' th' trees 'At tower up to th' sky, An' th' burds 'at flutterin i'th' breeze, Lie glitterin' jewels fly. Woll th' music of a shepherd's reed May gently float along, Lendin its tender notes to lead Some fair maid's simple song ; An' flaars 'at grow o' ivery side, Such as we niver see ; But here at hooam, at ivery stride, There's flaars for thee an' me. Aw care net for ther suns soa breet, Nor warblin melody ; Th' clink o' thi clogs o' th' flags at neet Saands sweeter, lad, to me. An' tho' aw wear a gingham gaan, A claat is noa disgrace ; Tha'Il niver find a heart moor warm Beat under silk or lace. Then settle daan, tak my advice, Give up this wish to rooam ! An' if tha luks, tha'll find lots nice Worth stoppin' for at hooam." YOI^KSHIi^E DITTIES. rt " God bless thee, Jenny ! dry that e'e, An' gi'e us howd thi hand ! For words Uke thoase, throo sich as thee, What mortal could withstand ! It isn't mich o'th' world aw know, But aw con truly say, A faithful heart's too rich to throw Withaat a thowt away. So here aw'U stay, and should fate fraan, Aw'll tew for thine and thee. An' seek for comfort when cast daan, I'th' sunleet o' thi e'e." ill* f Iwn't-iima*. fT^^^OME poets sing o' gipsy queens, ^^^ An' some o' ladies fine ; Aw'll sing a song o' other scenes, A humbler muse is mine : Jewels, an' gold, an' silken frills, Are things too heigh for me, But woll mi haqD wi' vigour thrills, Aw'll strike a chord for thee. Poor lassie wan. Do th' best tha can. Although thi fate be hard ; A time ther'U be When sich as thee Shall have yor full reward. YOI\KSHII\E DITTIES. 33 At hauf-past five tha leaves thi bed, An' off tha goes to wark ; An' gropes thi way to mill or shed, Six months o'th' year i'th' dark, rha gets but little for thi pains, But that's noa fault o' thine ; Thi maister reckons up his gains, An' ligs i' bed till nine. Poor lassie wan, &c. He's little childer ov his own 'At's quite as old as thee ; They ride i' cushioned carriages 'At's beautiful to see ; They'd fear to spoil ther little hand, To touch thy greasy brat : It's wark like thine 'as maks 'em grand They niver think o' that. Poor lassie wan, &c. r summer time they romp an' play Where flowers grow wild and sweet ; Ther bodies strong, ther spirits gay, They thrive throo mom to neet. 34 YORKSHIRE DITTIES. But tha's a cough, aw hear tha has, An' oft aw've kno^vn thee sick ; But tha mun work, poor little lass, For hauf-a-craan a wick. Poor lassie wan, &c. Aw envy net fowks' better lot — Aw should'nt like to swap. Aw'm quite contented wi' mi cot ; Aw'm but a workin chap. But if aw had a lot o' brass Aw'd think o' them 'at's poor; Aw'd have yo' childer workin' less, An' raak yor wages moor. Poor lassie wan, &c. " There is a land of pure delight. Where saints immortal reign, Infinite day excludes the night. And pleasures banish pain." Noa fact'ry bell shall greet thi ear, I' that sweet home ov love ; An' those 'at scorn thi sufferins here May envy thee above. Poor lassie wan, «S;c. ill' gmi mW ^ttMtt PW heeard a funny tale last neet — Aw could'nt howd fro' laffin — 'Twor at th' Bull's Heead we chonced to, meet, An' spent an haar i' chaffin. Some sang a song, some cracked a joak, An' all seem'd full o' larkin ; An' th' raam wor blue wi' bacca smook, An' ivery e'e 'd a spark in. Long Joa 'at comes thro th' Jumples cluff, Wor gettin rayther mazy ; An' Warkus Ned had supped enuff To turn they're Betty crazy 3 — An Bob at lives at th' Bogeggs farm, Wi' Nan throo th' Buttress Bottom, Wor treating her to summat warm, (It's just his way, — " odd drot em !") 36 YOI^KSHIRE DITTIES. An' Jack o'th' Slade wor theear as weel, An' Joa o' Abe's throo Waerley ; An' Lijah ofif o'th' Lawer Hill, Wor passing th' ale raand rarely. — Throo raand and square they seem'd to meet, To hear or tell a stoory ; But th' gem o' all aw heard last neet Wor one bi Dooad o'th' gloory. He bet his booits 'at it wor true, An' all seem'd to believe him; Tho' if he'd lost he need'nt rue — But 't wodn't ha done to grieve him His uncle lived i' Pudsey taan, An' practised local praichin ; An' if he 're lucky, he wor baan To start a schooil for taichin. But he wor takken varry ill ; He felt his time wor comin : (They say he brought it on hissel Wi' studdyin his summin.) He call'd his wife an' neighbors in To hear his deein sarmon, An' tell'd 'em if they liv'd i' sin Ther lot ud be a warm en. YOI\KSHIRE DITTIES. 37 Then tumin raand unto his wife, Said — " Mai, tha knows, owd craytur, If awd been bless'd wi' longer life, Aw might ha' left things straighten Joa Sooitill owes me eighteen pence — Aw lent it him last lovefeast. Says Mai — '' He has'nt lost his sense — Thank God for that at least !" " An Ben o'th' top o'th' bank tha knows, We owe him one paand ten," — " Just hark !" says Mally, " there he goas 1 He's ramellin agean ! Dooant tak a bit o' noatice, fowk ! Yo see, poor thing, he's ravin ! It cuts me up to hear sich talk — He spent his life i' savin ! " An, Mally, lass," he said agean, Tak heed o' my direction : Th' schooil owes us hauf a craan — aw mean My share o'th' last collection. — Tha'll see to that, an have what's fair When my poor life is past." — Says Mally, "listen, aw declare, He's sensible to th' last." "i" 38 YOI\KSHIRE DITTIES. He shut his een an' sank to rest — Deeath seldom claimed a better : They put him by, — but what wor th' best, He sent 'em back a letter, To tell 'em all ha he'd gooan on ; An' ha he gate to enter; An' gave 'em rules to act upon If ever they should ventur. Theear Peter stood wi' keys i' hand : Says he, " What do you want, sir ? If to goa in — yo understand Unknown to me yo can't sir. — Pray what's your name ? where are yo throo ? Just make your business clear." Says he, " They call me Parson Drew, Aw've come throo Pudsey here." " You've come throo Pudsey, do you say ? Doant try sich jokes o' me, sir; Aw've kept thease doors too long a day, Aw can't be fooiled bi thee, sir." Says Drew, " aw wodn't tell a lie, For th' sake o' all ther's in it : If yo've a map o' England by, Aw'U show yo in a minit." YOI\KSHII^ DITTIES. 39 Soa Peter gate a time-tabk They gloored o'er th' map together : Drew did all at he vvor able, But could'nt find a stiver. At last says he, " Thear's Leeds Taan Hall, An thear stands Braforth mission : It's just between them two — that's all : Your map's an old edition. But thear it is, aw'll lay a craan. An' if yo've niver known it, Yo've miss'd a bonny Yorksher taan, Tho mony be 'at scorn it." He oppen'd th' gate, — says he, " It's time Some body coom — aw'll trust thee. Tha'll find inside noa friends o' thine — Tha'rt th' furst 'at's come tliroo Pudsey." mt^, ON FINDING A BUTTERFLY IN A WEAVING SHED, iAY surelee tha's made a mistak ; Tha'rt aght o' thi element here ; Tha may weel goa an' peark up oth' thack, Thi bonny wings shakin wi fear. Aw should think 'at theease rattlin looms Saand queer sooart o' music to thee ; An' tha'll hardly quite relish th' perfumes O' miln-grease, — what th' quality be. Maybe' tha'rt disgusted wi' us, An' thinks we're a low offald set But tha'rt sadly mistaen if tha does, For ther's hooap an' ther's pride in us yet. YOI\KSHII\E DITTIES. 41 Tha wor nobbut a worm once thisen, An' as humble as humble could be ; An' tho we nah are like tha wor then, We may yet be as nobby as thee. Tha'd to seek thi own livin when young, An' when tha grew up tha'd to spin ; An' if labor like that wom't wrong, Tha con hardly call wayvin 'a sin,' But tha longs to be off aw con tell ; For tha shows 'at tha ar'nt content : Soa aw'll oppen thee th' window — farewell ! Off tha goas, bonny fly 1 — An' it went. mwU fm GRADELY chap wor uncle Ben As iver lived ith' fowd : He made a fortun for hissen, An' lived on't when he'r owd. His yed wor like a snow drift, An' his face wor red an' breet, An' his heart wor like a feather, For he did the thing 'at's reet. He wore th' same suit o' fustian clooas He'd worn sin aw wor bred ; An' th' same owd booits, wi' cappel'd tooas, An' th' same hat for his yed ; His cot wor lowly, yet he'd sing Throo braik o' day till neet ; His conscience niver felt a sting, For he did the thing 'at's reet. YOI\KSHIRE DITTIES. 43 He wod'nt swap his humble state Wi' th' grandest fowk i' th' land ; He niver wanted silver plate, Nor owt 'at's rich and grand ; He did'nt sleep wi' curtained silk Drawn raand him ov a neet, But he slept noa war for th' want o' that, For he'd done the thing 'at's reet. Owd fowk called him "awr Benny," Young fowk, " mi uncle Ben," — An' th' childer, "gronfather," or "dad," Or what best pleased thersen. A gleam o' joy coom o'er his face When he heeard ther patterin feet. For he loved to laik wi' th' little bairns An' he did the thing 'at's reet. He niver turned poor fowk away Uncared for throo his door ; He ne'er forgate ther wor a day When he hissen wor poor ; An' mony a face has turned to Heaven, All glistenin wi' weet, An' prayed for blessins on owd Ben, For he did th' thing 'at's reet. 44 YOI^KSHIRE DITTIES. He knew his lease wor ommost spent, He'd sooin be called away ; Yet he wor happy an' content. An' waited th' comin day ; But one dark neet he shut his e'en, An' slept soa calm an' sweet, When mornin coom, th' world held one less, 'A* did the thing 'at's reet. mu §m f ciw's §t^{t\n. ^AYS Dick, "ther's a notion sprung up i' mi yed, For th' furst time i' th' whole coorse o' mi life, An' aw've takken a fancy aw'st like to be wed, If aw knew who to get for a wife. Aw dooant want a woman wi' beauty, nor brass, For aw've nawther to booast on misel . What aw want is a warm-hearted, hard-workin' lass, An' ther's lots to be fun, aw've heeard tell. To be single is all weel enuf nah an' then, But it's awk'ard when th' weshin' day comes ; For aw nivver think sooapsuds agree weel wi' men; They turn all mi ten fingers to thumbs. 46 YOI^KSHIRE DITTIES. An' awm sure it's a fact, long afoor aw get done, Aw'm slopt throo mi waist to mi fit ; An' th' floor's in a pond, as if th' peggy-tub run, An' mi back warks as if it 'ud split. Aw fancied aw'st manage at breead-bakin' best ; Soa one day aw bethowt me to try. But aw gate soa flustered, aw ne'er thowt o'th' yeast, Soa aw mud as weel ofiered to fly. Aw did mak a dumplin', but a'a ! dear a me ! Abaght that lot aw hardly dar think ; Aw ne'er fan th' mistak' till aw missed th' sooap, yo see, An' saw th' suet i'th' sooap-box o'th' sink. But a new-year's just startin', an' soa aw declare Aw'll be wed if a wife's to be had ; For mi clooas is soa ragg'd woll aw'm ommost hauf bare, An' thease mullucks, they're drivin' me mad. Soa, if yo should know, or should chonce to hear tell, Ov a lass 'at to wed is inclined, Talegraft me at once, an' aw'll see her misel Afoor shoo can alter her mind. WU MA §MMm'& f t0»g. ^T was an humble cottage, Snug in a rustic lane, Geraniums and fuschias peep'd From every window-pane; The dark-leaved ivy dressed its walls, Houseleek adorned the thatch ; The door was standing open wide, They had no need of latch. , And close besides the comer There stood an old stone well. Which caught a mimic waterfall, That warbled as it fell. The cat, crouched on the well-worn steps. Was blinking in the sun ; 48 YOI\KSHIRE DITTIES. The birds sang out a welcome To the morning just begun. An air of peace and happiness Pervaded all the scene ; The tall trees formed a back ground Of rich and varied green ; And all was steeped in quietness, Save nature's music wild, Wlien all at once, methought I heard The sobbing of a child. — ■ I listened, and the sound again Smote clearly on my ear : " Can there," — I wondering asked myself- " Can there be sorrow here ?" — I looked within, and on the floor Was sat a little boy, Striving to soothe his sister's grief By giving her a toy. " Why weeps your sister thus ?" I asked ; " What is her cause of grief? Come tell me, little man," I said, " Come tell me, and be brief." yOI\KSHII^ DITTIES. 49 Clasping his sister closer still, He kissed her tear-stained face, And thus, in homely Yorkshire phrase, He told their mournful case. " Mi mammy, sir, shoos liggin thear, I' th' shut-up bed i' th' nook ; An' tho aw've tried to wakken her, Shoo'U nawther spaik nor look. Mi sissy wants her porridge, An' its time shoo had em too, But th' foifs gooan aght an' th' mail's all done — Aw dooant know what to do. An' O, my mammy's varry cold — Just come an' touch her arm : Aw've done mi best to hap her up, But connot mak her warm. Mi daddy he once fell asleep, An' niver wakken'd moor : Aw saw 'em put him in a box, An' tak him aght o' th' door. 50 YORKSHIRE DITTIES. He niver comes to see us nah, As once he used to do, An' let mi ride upon his back — Me, an' mi sissy too. An' if they know mi mammy sleeps, Soa cold, an' white, an' still, Aw'm feeard they'll come an' fotch her, sir ; O, sir, aw'm feard they will i Aw happen could get on misen, For aw con work a bit, But little sissy, sir, yo see, Shoo's varry young as yet Oh ! dunnot let fowk tak mi mam 1 Help me to rouse her up ! An' if shoo wants her physic, See, — it's in this little cup. Aw know her heead wor bad last neet, When putting us to bed ; Shoo said, " God bless yo, little things !" An' that wor all shoo said. Aw saw a tear wor in her e'e — In fact, it's seldom dry: YO^KSHII\E DITTIES. Sin daddy went shoo alius cries, But niver tells us why. Aw think it's coss he isn't here, 'At raaks her e'en soa dim ; Shoo says, he'll niver come to us, But we may goa to him. But if shoo's gooan an' left us here, What mun we do or say ? — We connot follow her unless, Somebody '11 show us th' way." My heart was full to bursting. When I heard the woeful tale ; I gazed a moment on the face Which death had left so pale ; Then clasping to my heaving breast The little orphan pair, I sank upon my bended knees. And offered up a prayer. That God would give me power to aid Tlix)se children in distress, That I might as a father be Unto the fatherless. ' 52 YORKSHIRE DITTIES. Then coaxingly I led them forth ; And as the road was long, I bore them in my arms by turns — Their tears had made me strong. I took them to my humble home, Where now they may be seen, The lad, — a noble-minded youth, — His " sissy," — beauty's queen. And now if you should chance to see, Far from the bustling throng, An old man, whom a youth and maid Lead tenderly along ; — And if you, wondering, long to know The history of the three, — They are the little orphan pair — The poor old man is me : And on the little grassy mound 'Neath which their parents sleep, They bend the knee, and pray for me ; I pray for them and weep. gW 0' mmli jW'VE been laikin for ommost eight wick, An' aw can't get a day's wark to do ! Aw've trailed abaght th' streets wol awm sick An' aw've worn mi clog-soils ommost through. Aw've a wife an' three childer at hooam, An' aw know they're all lukkin at th' clock, For they think it's high time aw should come, An' bring 'em a morsel 'o jock. A'a dear 1 it's a pitiful case When th' cubbord is empty an' bare ; When want's stamped o' ivery face, An' yo hav'nt a meal yo can share. 54 YORKSHIRE DITTIES. To-day as aw walked into th' street, Th' squire's carriage went rattlin past; An' aw thout 'at it hardly luk'd reet, For aw had'nt brokken mi fast. Them horses, aw knew varry weel, Wi' ther trappins all shinin i' gold, Had nivver known th' want of a meal, Or a shelter to keep 'em thro' th' cold. Even th' dogs have enuff an' to spare, Tho' they ne'er worked a day i' ther life ; But ther maisters forget they should care For a chap 'at's three bairns an' a wife. They give dinners at th' hall ivery neet, An' ther's carriages standin bi'th scoor, An' all th' windows are blazin wi leet, But they seldom give dinners to th' poor. I' mi pocket aw hav'nt a rap, Nor a crust, nor a handful o' mail ; An' unless we can get it o'th strap, We mun pine, or mun beg, or else stail. YOI\KSHI^E DITTIES. 35 But hoamwards aw'U point mi owd clogs To them three little lambs an' ther dam; — Aw wish they wor horses or dogs, For its nobbut poor fowk 'at's to clam. But they say ther is One 'at can see, An' has promised to guide us safe through j Soa aw'U live on i' hopes, an' surelee, He'll find a chap summat to do. ,^ Mthx ^M^. NOTHER !— well, my bonny lad, Aw wodn't send thee back ; Altho' we thowt we hadn't raam, Tha's fun some in a crack. It maks me feel a§ pleased as punch To see thi pratty face ; Ther's net another child i'th bunch Moor welcome to a place Aw'st ha' to fit a peark for thee, I' some nook o' mi cage ; But if another comes, raylee ! Aw'st want a bigger wage. YOI^SHIRE DITTIES. 37 But aw'm noan feard tha'U ha' to want- We'll try to pool thee throo , For Him who has mi laddie sent, He'll send his baggin too. He hears the little sparrows chirp, An' answers th' raven's call ; He'll never see one want for owt, 'At's worth aboon 'em all. But if one on us mun goa short, {Although it's hard to pine,) Thy little belly shall be fiU'd Whativer comes o' mine. A chap con nobbut do his best. An' that aw'll do for thee, Leavin to providence all th' rest, An' we'st get help'd', tha'll see. An' if thi lot's as bright an' fair As aw could wish it, lad, Tha'll come in for a better share Nor iver blessed thi dad. Aw think aw'st net ha' lived for nowt, If, when deeath comes, aw find 38 YOI\KSHIRE DITTIES. Aw leave some virtuous lasses A.n' some honest lads behind. An' tho' noa coat ov arms may grace For me, a sculptor'd stooan, Aw hope to leave a noble race, Wi arms o' flesh an' booan. Then cheer up, lad, tho' things luk black, Wi' health, we'll persevere. An' try to find a brighter track — We'll conquer, niver fear ! An may God shield thee wi' his wing, Along life's stormy way. An' keep thi heart as free throo sin, As what it is to-day. W §iiiU ftocfe §ml HER'S a spark just o'th tip o' mi pen, An' it may be poetical fire ; An' suppoase 'at it is'nt — what then ? Wod yo bawk a chap ov his desire ? Aw'm detarmined to scribble away — Soa's them 'at's a fancy con read ; An' tho aw turn neet into day, If aw'm suitin an odd en, neer heed ! Aw own ther's mich pleasure i' life ; But then ther's abundance o' care. An' them 'at's contented wi' strife May alius mak sure o' ther share. 60 YORKSHIRE DITTIES. But aw'll laff woU mi galluses braik, Tho mi bed's net as soft as spun silk ; An' if butter be aght o' mi raik, Aw'll ma' th' best ov a drop o' chum milk. It's nooan them 'at's getten all th' brass 'At's getten all th' pleasure, net it ! When aw'm smookin a pipe wi' th' owd lass, Aw con thoil 'em whativer they get. But sometimes when aw'm walkin throo th' street, An' aw see fowk hauf-clam'd, an' i' rags, Wi noa bed to lig daan on at neet But i'th' warkus, or th' cold-lukkin flags ; Then aw think, if rich fowk nobbut knew What ther brothers i' poverty feel, They'd a trifle moor charity show. An' help 'em sometimes to a meal. But we're all far too fond of ussen, To bother wi' things aght o'th' seet ; An' we leeav to ther f^e sich as them 'At's noa bed nor noa supper at neet. YOI^KSHII^E DITTIES. 6l But ther's mony a honest heart throbs, Tho' it throbs under rags an' i' pains, 'At wod'nt disgrace one o'th' nobs, 'At booasts better blooid in his veins. See that child thear ! 'at's working away, An' sweepin that crossin i'th' street : He's been thear iver sin it coom day. An' yo'U find him thear far into th' neet. See what hundreds goa thowtlessly by, An' ne'er think o' that child wi' his broom ! What care they tho' he smothered a sigh, Or wiped off a tear as they coom. But luk ! thear's a man wi' a heart ! He's gien th' poor child sumraat at last : Ha his een seem to twinkle an' start, As he watches th' kind gentleman past ! An' thear in his little black hand He sees a gold sovereign shine ! He thinks he ne'er saw owt soa grand. An' he says, " Sure it connot be mine !" An' all th' lads cluther raand him i' glee, An' tell him to cut aght o'th seet ; 62 YOI^KSHIRE DITTIES. But he dutches it fast, — an' nah see Ha he's threedin his way along th' street, Till he comes to that varry same man, An' he touches him gently o'th' back, An' he tells him as weel as he can, 'At he fancies he's made a. mistak. An' th' chap luks at that poor honest lad, With his little naked feet, as he stands, An' his heart oppens wide — he's soa glad Woll he taks one o'th little black hands. An' he begs him to tell him his name : But th' child glances timidly raand — Poor crayturl he connot forshame To lift up his een ofif o'th graand. But at last he finds courage to spaik. An' he tells him they call him poor Joa ; 'At his mother is sickly an' waik ; An' his father went deead long ago ; An' he's th' only one able to work Aght o' four ; an' he does what he can, Thro' early at morn till it's dark : An' he hopes 'at he'll sooin be a man. YOI^KSHIRE DITTIES. 63 An' he tells him his mother's last word, As he starts for his labour for th' day, Is to put all his trust in the Lord, An' He'll net send him empty away. — See that man ! nah he's wipin his een. An' he gives him that bright piece o' govvd ; An' th' lad sees i' that image o'th Queen What '11 keep his poor mother thro' th' cowd. An' mony a time too, after then. Did that gentleman tak up his stand At that crossing an' watch for hissen The work ov that little black hand. An' when years had gone by, he expressed 'At i'th' spite ov all th' taichin he'd had. An' all th' lessons he'd leearn'd, that wor th' best 'At wor towt by that poor little lad. Tho' the proud an' the wealthy may prate. An' booast o' ther riches and land. Some o'th' laadest ul sink second-rate To that lad with his little black hand- ilir's (^mm. ^ELL, Robert! what's th' matter j* nah mun, Aw see 'at ther's summat nooan sweet ; Thi een luk as red as a sun — Aw saw that across th' width of a street j Aw hope 'at yor Lily's noa war — Surelee — th' Utile thing is'nt deead ? Tha wod roor, aw think, if tha dar — What means ta bi shakin thi heead ? Well, aw see bi thi sorrowful e'e At shoe's gooan, an' aw'm soory, but yet. When youngens like her hap ta dee, They miss troubles as some live to hit. Tha mun try an' put up wi' thi loss, Tha's been praad o' that child, aw mun say, But give over freatin, becoss It's for th' best if shoo's been taen away." YOI\KSHI^E DITTIES. 65 " A'a ! Daniel, it's easy for thee To talk soa, becoss th' loss is nt thine ; But its ommost deeath-blow to me, Shoo wor prized moor nor owt else 'at's mine ; An' when aw bethink me shoo's gooan, Mi feelins noa mortal can tell ; Mi heart sinks wi' th' weight ov a stooan, An' aw'm capped 'at aw'm livin mysel. Aw shall think on it wor aw to live To be th' age o' Methusla or moor ; Tho' shoo said 'at aw had'nt to grieve, We should booath meet agean, shoo wor sure : An' when shoo'd been dreamin one day, Shoo said shoo could hear th' angels call ; But shoo could'nt for th' life goa away Till they call'd for her daddy an' all. An' as sooin as aw coom thro' my wark, Shoo'd ha' me to sit bi her bed ; An' thear aw've watched haars i'th' dark, An' listened to all 'at shoo's said; Shoo's repeated all th' pieces shoo's learnt, When shoo's been ov a Sundy to th' schooil, An ax'd me what dift'rent things meant, Woll aw felt aw wor nobbut a fooil 66 YORKSHIRE DITTIES. An' when aw've been gloomy an' sad, Shoe's smiled an' taen hold o' mi hand, An whispered, *yo munnot freat, dad ; Aw'm gooin to a happier land ; An' aw'll tell Jesus when aw get thear, 'At aw've left yo here waitin his call ; An' He'll find yo a place, niver fear, For ther's room up i' heaven for all.' An' this momin, when watchin th' sun rise. Shoo said, 'daddy, come nearer to me, Thers a mist comin ower mi eyes, An' aw find at aw hardly can see. — Gooid bye ! — kiss yor Lily agean, — Let me pillow mi heead o' yor breast ! Aw feel now aw'm freed thro' mi pain ; Then Lily shoo went to her rest." AWKIN abaat policemen reminds me ov a mess one on 'em gate into a while sin. Aw'shalln't tell awther his name or his number, becoss it's net my wish to get ony body into trouble. It's enuff for me to say he's a gooid-lukkin chap, an' if he isn't wed his wife is. He wor on neet duty, an' at one o' th' haases he had to pass, lived a fine buxom sarvent. Police- men have alius been nooated for havin a fancy for sarvents, an' this wor like th' rest, an' befoor long they grew soa friendly 'at shoo used to in- vite him in after th' maister an' th' mistress had gooan to bed. One neet he'd crept in, an' they wor whisperin varry lovinly together, when shoo tell'd him ther wor noa cold mait o' ony sooart. 90 CI^AM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. " Awm glad on it," he sed, " for awnm stoled o' cold stuff. That luks a bit o' nice bacon at's hung up, does ta think tha could do me a bit anent th' fire, aw think ther's as mich heeat as'll cook it?" " Well, Robert," shoo sed, " if yo'll sit daan an' wait awl try." Soa he put his lantern onto th' table an' sat daan wol shoo gate a little dutch oven an hooked two nice collops in ; but shoo fancied shoo could enjoy one hersen, soa shoo stept up into a cheer to cut off another, an' as shoo'd th' knife i' one hand an' cannel i' th' tother shoo owerbalanced hersen, and fell onto th' floor, settin up sich a skrike as yo niver heeard. Th' cannel went aat when it fell an all wor as dark as pitch, and Robert hearin th' maister skutterin daan th' stairs thowt his best plan wor to hook it ; soa he grab'd up his lantern for owt he knew an buckled it on as he wor hurryin up th' steps. He'd hardly left when th' maister runs aat in his shirt, callin aat, " Police ! police !" Robert comes fussin on as if he knew nowt abaat it, an' went back wi' th' maister, who wor soa freetened wol he darn't spaik. CREAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. 9I When they went in th' sarvent had sam'd her- sen up, an lit th' cannel agean ; but th' lass for- gate her fall an' th' maister his fright, when they lukd at th' policeman an' saw he'd getten th' dutch oven i' th' front on him astead ov his lantern, an' two bacon collops swingin in it. They settled th' matter amang thersens, but it towt that policeman niver to tak off his lantern until he'd done wi' it. infofmafton. Divine Service was held in the Temperance Hall, when the celebrated Dr. Foaming Drink- water preached from the text Exodus 16 ch. 33 v., "And Moses said unto Aaron, take a pot," and in an eloquent sermon of ih. 55m. the Revd. lecturer clearly showed that a pot of beer was not alluded to in the text. Collections were made at the close of the service. Wattfvitt' f liifw. ^^^^^^^ULY is th' month to gooa a spawan' ; \^^k an' fowk luk forrard to it just th' same as ^^ if they couldn't do withaat it. Th' fact is aw hardly dar say owt agean it, for awm fond ov a bit ov a off niysen ; but then ther's different ways o' dooin it. A chap at gethers horsemuck at hooam needn't want to mak' fowk believe he's th' Lord Mayor o' London abrooad. Aw remember once when aw wur at a watterin' place, aw followed some fine young ladies an' wished 'em "gooid day;" aw wornt exactly sure whether one on 'em mightn't be th' Princess o' Wales or net, but haasumiver, they curled up ther nooas th' same as if they'd passed a fooamet. But in abaat a wick at after, aw met one on 'em gooin ovver th' North Brigg wi' a 1 CREAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. 93 slice o' traitle cake in her hand, varry near like th' door ov a mahogany shut-up-bed, an' up to th' elbows i' Miln greease too. Aw thowt if ony body wanted to pick a lass for a wife they shouldn't goa to a spawin' spot. For all that, awve nowt to say agean it — one body's as mich reight to goa an get sunburnt as another; but they mud as weel spaik truth, an' not alius say it's for th' gooid o' ther health, when all th' time it's just for a bit ov a spree. Aw could give some gooid advice to ony body at thinks o' gooin. Tak varry little brass, an' let it be i' your pocket, net i' yor face. Th' less yo have an' th' less yo'U spend, Dooant buy patent booits to walk o' th' sand in. If you're anxious to ride in a cock booat, dooant be particler to wear white trowsers. If yo want a horse to ride, tak one wi yo — it '11 save yo a deeal o' disappoint- ment ; if yo want a donkey, settle ha mony legs yo could like it to have, an' yo'll find plenty. Be careful noabody taks a fancy to yo th' same way. Ther's as mony donkeys wi' two legs as four, an' a bonny seet mooar. Talkin' abaat th' number o' legs maks me think ov a chap at considered hissen rayther a sharp en ; he'd a bit 94 Ci\EAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR, ov a garden an' some cherry trees in it, an' one momin' when he gate aat o' bed he fan somdy had saved him th' trouble o' getherin' th' fruit ; they'd done it for him woU he wor asleep. He coom an' tell'd th' tale to me. " A'a," he said, " if he could nobbut find aat who'd done it, he'd stransport 'em over th' seah' that he wod !" "Why," aw says, "tha knows burds is varry fond o' cherries, an' its happen th' burds." " Burds !" he said, an' he winked at me varry knowingly. " Burds ! happen they wor burds — but they wor two-legged ens aw'll bet." Aw niver thowt him quite so sharp after that. Nah just a word bi way of a caution. A chap 'at's two paand i' debt an' goas an' spends three paand at a watterin' place, maks hissen five paand behund ; whereas if he'd paid what he owed he'd still ha had one paand to spend, an' that ud goa as far o' th' top o' Blackstonedge as three paand at Blackpool. It's worth a thowt. glut Allows. cMii^lHEN ther's a flaar show, clooas show at th' g|P^ same time. Aw hear fowk tawk abaat "floral gems,' and sich like stuff, but aw understand varry little abaat it. But aw've a few gems ov another sooart at sich times — aw call 'em gems o' thowt. Aw'm alius wonderin. Aw wonder a deal aw've noa business to wonder. When aw see a lot o' nice young lasses i' muslin dresses, all spankin clean, an ommost makkin a chap wish he wom't wed — aw wonder if ther petticoits an' stockins is as cleean. An when aw see a lot o' white faced lads, 'a'ts hardly getten ther hippins off, smokin cigars, an' spittin o'th' floor ivery two or three yards, — aw wonder if they dooant wish they wor finished, an' aw wonder what ther mothers is dooin to let 'em aat g6 CI\EAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR- by tliersen. An' when aw hear tell ha mich brass they get at th' doors, aw wonder ha mich on it wor borrow'd to goa wi' — an' sometimes aw wonder what they do wi' it after they've getten it — but that's noa business o' mine; — its a hungary job, aw know. Aw mony a time wonder, when aw hear th' bands o' music strike up, what Lord Byron ment when he said, " Wlien music arose with its voluptuous swell ;" for aw've booath seen an' heeard monny a voluptuous swell at a flaar show. An' aw wonder sometimes ha it is 'at fowk 'at goa wi a shawl o' ther heead to pick aat a sheep heead i'th' market, can't be content unless they're donned i' silks an' satins to goa see a twoathree marrygolds an' fushias. An' sometimes aw wonder what i'th' name o' fortun aw'm dooin thear mysen, an' if onybody axes me, aw wonder what business it is o' their's ; — an' its just a case o' wonderin throo begin nin to th' endin', an' aw wonder when fowk '11 leearn a bit o' wit. Aw wonder if fowk think th' same abaat me. Aw wonder if they do. Aw shouldn't wonder if they did. -L (MtK Sk ^^i^HEY reckon to brew a gooid sup o' ale ii^H in October, an' they call it " Prime owd October." Ther's monny a war thing i'th' world nor a sup o' gooid drink. Landlords an' teetotal-lecturers manage to get a livin' aat on it some way ; — but it's th' same wi' ale as wi' iverything else nah days, — it's nowt made on unless it's sharp. It's a sharp age we live in ; — hand-loom waivin' an' stage coaches are all too slow; iverybody an' iverything keeps growin' sharper. But we arn't as sharp as what they are i' 'Merica yet — they're too sharp. They tell me they ha' to lapp thersen up i' haybands afoor they goa to bed, for fear o' cuttin' th' sheets. Aw heeard tell o' one chap runnin' a race wi' a flasli o' leetnin', an' they say he'd ha' won 'but for one ov his gallus buttons comin' off. An' o 98 C^EAM. OF WIT AND HUMOUR. another 'at used to male leather garters an' throw 'em ower his heead, an' he could male 'em soa sharp 'at he alius kept one pair flyin'. He wom't a bad hand at his job, he wom't that. One day aw axed a chap 'at had been, " if they wor raylee as sharp as what fowk gave 'em credit for?" "Why," he says, "they wor shaq:)er nor aw liked on, or else aw shouldn't ha' come back ; but aw couldn't get on noa rooad : aw tried two or three different trades, but aw made nowt aat, an' at last aw set up as tub- thumper; but that wodn't do. They niver wanted ought makkin' — they wor too sharp for that ; they alius brought yo summat to mend ; — becoss they knew a chap couldn't charge as mich for mendin' an owd tub as for makkin' a new en ; soa if they'd ony sooart ov a owd tub lagg, or a piece of a barrel bottom, they browt it to get mended into a new tub. Aw did as weel as aw could amang it; but one day a chap comes in an' says, ' Aw Avant yo to do a bit o' repairm' for me.' 'Varry gooid, sur.' says aw, 'an' what might yo be wantin?' 'Well,' he says, * aw've an owd bung hoil here, do yo think yo could fit me a fresh barrel to it ?' Aw niver CI^EAM OF WIT AND HUMOUP^ 99 spake for a minit, then aw says, 'wod yo be gooid enuff to lend me a hand to put theas shuts up ?' ' Wi' pleasure, sur,' he said, an' he did, an' aw left th' job an' coom hooam, for aw thowt they wor rayther too sharp." Man, a chap can be too sharp sometimes. My advice is, be as sharp as yo like, if yo're sharp in a reight way, but ther's some things it's as weel to be slow abaat. Be slow to do a shabby trick, an' be sharp to help a poor body 'at needs it. Be slow to see other fowk's faults, an' be sharp to improve yor own. Be slow to scandalise yor neighbors, an' keep a sharp luk aat to steer clear ov iverybody else's business ; yo'll find it '11 give yo moor time to luk after yor own. Last May Mr. Goosequill, attomey-at-law, liberally forgave a poor widow the expenses of a trial in which he had been engaged. It is a singular fact that a tom-cat, which had been for years in the gentleman's family, having caught a mouse, let it go for pity's sake the following day. ^MttjrMilfj; f I«i SQUIBS an' crackers ! Starleets an' catter- in wheels ! Bunfires an' traikle parkin ! This is th' time for a bit ov a jollifica- tion, Guy Fawkes did a gooid turn, after all, when he tried to blow th' Parliament haase up ; for we should ha' had one spree less i' the' year but for him. Ax twenty fowk this question o' th' fourth o' November, " Are yo gooin to buy ony fireworks this year ?" an aw dar be bun to say yo wdlln't find ono i'th' lot but what'll say " Aw've summat else to do wi' my brass nor to waste it o' sich like fooilery as that." An' still, aw'll wager at nineteen on 'em buy some after all. Ther's a deal o' difference i'th way they spend it. I' th' country they all sit raand th' fire wi' their parkin an' milk' or else rooasted puttaties, an' they tell tales, an' they laf an' talk CI^EAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. 101 till they've varry near burned ther shoo toas off. an' getten soa starved o' ther back 'at they willn't be shut ov a cold for a month ; but i'th' taan there's alius th' mooast to do i'th' public haases. Aw think aw shall niver forget a mar- lock we had th' last plot. It wor in a public haase somewhere between "Spice Cake-loin" an' Whiskum Dandy; ther wor a raam full o' fowk, an' aw nooatised 'at iverybody's pockets wor swelled aat, an' thinks aw, aw shouldn't be capp'd if ther wor a dust here in a while. They just wanted somdy to start. In a bit one on 'em gate up to goa aat, an' th' landlord (he'd a cork leg) drop'd a cracker into his pocket. He hadn't gooan far when bang it went ; he turns back an' leets abaat two dozzen an' sends 'em into th' middle o'th' raam. " Nah, lads ! for God's sake show a bit o' sense," says th' land- lord, " dooant begin sich like wark as that i' this raam, nah dooant," He mud as weel ha' just whisded jigs to a mile-stoop; aat coom ivery- body's stock, an' i' less nor hauf a minit ther wor sich a hullabaloo i' that shop as aw niver heeared afoor. To mak matters war, somdy had shut th' door an' fesened it, an' th' place 102 CI\EAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. wor full o' rick, an iverybody ommost chooak'd. Aw gate under th' seat, an' in a bit somdy smashes th' window an' bawls aat "fire ! fire !" I' two or three minits ther coom a stream o' watter into th' raam as thick as my shackle, an' smash went th' chandilleer. Th' landlord wor mad ©mmost — lukkin glasses an' picters went one after tother, an' aw faand aat 'as aw couldn't swim, aw should ha' to shift, or else aw should be draaned. Some kind soul managed to braik th' door daan an' we gate aat, but aw could hear th' landlord yelling aat 'at sombdy had stown his cork leg. Ha' they went on aw dooant know, for aw steered straight hooam. At abaat six o'clock th' next morning, as aw went to my wark, aw saw a cork leg mth a varry good booit on it, hangin' to a gas lamp, on aw wondcr'd whose it wor. W fast H^tttlt. ^H' last month o' tli' year; an' ther's suramat rayther sorrowful abaat th' last o' owt, exceptin' trouble ; an' still to me ther's alius summat varry interestin' abaat owt at's " th' last." Aw've watched men when they've been buildin' a long chimley, but aw've niver felt mich interest till it's come th' time for 'em to put on th' last stooan ; they've labored day by day, riskin boath life an' limb, an' still aw've felt varry little anxiety; but it's just th' fact on it bein' th' last stooan ; an' aw've hardly been able to talc my een off it till it's been finished an' th' last man's come safe daan. But still it's a sorrowful saandin' word is "last." Th' last farewell — th' last look — th' last breath — an' th' last restin, place ; it sets fowk thinkin what there'll be after "th' last." Th' last 104 CREAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. month i'th' year isn't a bad time to luk back an' see ha we've spent th' past eleven, an' aw think ther's few but what'U be able to see monny a place where they've missed it. An' if soa we'd better mak th' best o'th' few days left to mak what amends we can. Owd Christmas comes in smilin', with his holly an' his mistletoe, an' his gooid tempered face surraanded wi' steam of plum puddin' an' roast beef — tables get tested what weight they can bear — owd fowk an' young ens exchange greetin's, punch bowls steam up ; an' lemons an' nutmegs suffer theresen to be rubbed, scrubbed, sliced, an' stewed; an' ivery- body at can, seems to be jolly at Christmas. Some fowk luk forrard to Christmas just for th' sake of a gooid feed, an' aw've seen odd ens, nah an' then, 'at can tuck it in i' fine style. Aw re- collect one Christmas when Jooan o' Jenny's (we used to call him Jooan long stummack) went to London (he'd one o'th' best twists aw iver met wi'), an' he wor takken varry wamley for want ov a bit ov a bitin on, soa he went into a cook's shop an' ax'd 'em ha mich they'd mak him a dinner for? " Eighteenpence, sur," said th' maister, " come, sit daan an' help thisen." Soa CI^AM OP WIT AND HUMOUR^ IO5 he sat daan just at th' front ov a lump o' rooast beef, an' cut a piece off as big as a brick, an' he worn't lang i' polishin' that an' cutting another. Th' landlord wor rayther capped when he saw it goa Hke that, an' he says " Tha'rt hungary, lad, aw think ! Will ta have summat to sup?" " Noa thank yo, sur," says Jooan, " not just yet." He varry sooin put th' second lot where it could keep th' furst company, an' began cuttin' a third ; this made th' maister seem varry uneasy, an' he says, " Tha'd better have summat to sup, lad ! Mun aw fotch thi a pint o' drink ?" " Noa, thank yo," said Jooan, "aw mak a practice niver to sup till aw've hauf, done." Why, lad," says th' landlord, "ha mitch will ta tak' to drop it?" "Well," said Jooan, "if yo dooant like my company aw'm sooary aw've come, but aw shouldn't like to leave this table for less nor hauf a craan, if aw do aw shall be a loiser." Th' old chap pooled awt hauf a craan an' banged it on to th' table, an' says, " Tak' it, an' tak' thisen away, an' niver put thi fooit i' my haase agean as long as tha's a day to live ; tha'd ruin me in a wick." "Why, maister," he says," yo cap me sayin' soa, for aw can't ait as mich bi a caah 106 CI\EAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. head as once aw cud. Aw'll tak' th' hauf cra\\Ti ; gooid day, maister; you've made a shillin 'at me." At a meeting of the tax-collectors of the W — R g of shire, held in one of the cells beneath the Town Hall, it was proposed, " That we, the tax gatherers and rate collectors of the W — R g of shire do intend to throw up our offices, unless our wages are reduced or our labours increased, for being like unto other men, possessed of consciences, we are frequently tor- mented Avith the thought, that we are receiving more than what is our due, and by that means wronging the public." Mr. Christopher Delphian moved as an amendment, " that they should dis- pose of their consciences, that being a readier way of getting over the difficulty." The chair- man put the amendment which was carried, and the consciences were sold in one lot, for 7^d., which was carried to the fund for the entertain- ment of Mr. Calcraft, the president, whenever he should visit the district on a professional tour. §m f Mr's f Htics. i^lpGlTS net oft at aw have mich to do wi' ^MrJh parties, Th' fact is aw'm wed, an' young fowk dooant want me, becoss they say aw've made my markets, an' wed fowk dooant oft ax me becoss aw suppose aw dooant oft ax them. But this month last year aw did get a invite to a doo, an' aw went. Aw'st net forget in a hurry what a fidget my owd woman gate into. Shoo brushed me daan aboon a duzzen times, an' turned me raand Uke a rooastin jack to see ha aw luk'd, woU aw wor as mazy as a wheel heead, an' th' childer luk'd up i' my face two or three times afoor they could believe it wor me. Aw heeard awr Abram telling Betty 'at "he believed his fayther wor gooin to get kursen'd or summat." " Ho eeah ! 108 CI^EAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. why what are they baan to call him ?" shoo says. " Nay, aw dooant know, but my mother's been callin' him 'gaumless,' happen that's it." Gaumless enuff aw thowt, an' after rubbin' my hat raand wi' a weet sponge (woU th' wife declared it wor as hansum as a Japan tea caddy), aw set ofif. Aw seized howd o'th' nob when aw gate to th' door, an' aw gave a gooid pawse, same as aw do at hooam, A fine young gentleman oppen'd it, an' after starin' at me for two or three minits, he said, "Walk in, sur." Aw doff'd my hat an' did soa ; an' he ! what a smell ! "By gow, lad," aw said, " its enuff to mak my maath watter is this, ther's nowt awm fonder on nor onions, an' aw con smell ther's some cookin' — they'll be frying some liver, aw dar say. Are ta th' maister's lad?" aw axed. " Noa, sur," he said ; " a'^vm th' waiter." " Why tha needn't wait o' me," aw said, " aw'U luk after mysel." " Come this way, sur." he said, aw'll introduce yo'. What name shall aw say, sur?" " Does ta think aw am not known?" aw says ; " nah aw'll tell thi what it is : if tha keeps diddlin after me like tha has done sin' aw come in, as if tha thowt aw wanted to stall summat, CI\EAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. IO9 awst just twist thi neck raand." Th' maister heeard me tawkin, an' coom to shake hands wi' me, smiUn' all ower his face dehghtedly. He hook'd his arm i' mine, an' walked me into a grand raam full o' ladies an' waiters (aw made 'em aat to be waiters coss they wor dressed like him 'at stood at th' door.) "This is my old friend, the Almenack maker," he said, an' they all gate up an' sat daan agean. When aw luk'd raand aw thowt, " Aw'm in for it this time," for aw could mak it aat to be nowt but a meetin' to kursen a lot o' childer', "an' vany likely they wanted me to stand godfayther for 'em. Aw saw noa babbies ony-where, but then aw'd heeard fowk tell abaat th' quality havin' weet nurses for ther bairns, an' aw made it aat 'at thease must be um, on accaant o'th' way they wor dressed, for they wor all i' white, an' ther's nowt easier weshed, an' aw thowt to mysen, "Aw'll tell my owd woman to have her gaon made i' th' same pattern when shoo's ony more to suckle, for it must save a deal o' trouble, an' be for iwer better nor havin' a lot o' hooks an' eyes botherin' abaat th' child's face." But thear aw sat, an' as noabody said ovvt to me, aw said nowt no CREAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. to noabody. In a bit ivery body began pairin' off, an' th' maister says, " Come, my friend, you must take a lady to dinner," an' a reight grand young woman coom an' tuk howd o' mi arm, an' we follow'd aat i' prussesshun, like they do at a burrin. When we gate into th' next raam aw fan aat mi mistak abaat all th' chaps being waiters, for they sat daan to th' table same as th' maister an' me, soa aw thowt varry likely they wor locals, or summat i'th' missionary line. Aw niver saw as mich stuff to ait i' all my life, except in a cook shop. " Shall I pass you a little soup," said th' maister? " Noa, thank yo," aw said, " aw weshed me afoor aw coom." " Not soap, my good friend, I mean soup," he said. " Oh ! broth, is it ? Aw did'nt know what yo ment. Eeah, aw'll tak a soop o' broth, if yo please, an' a bit o' suet dumplin,' if yo have a bit." \Vlien aw said sea, a lot began a coughin', the same as if they'd a boan i' ther throit, an' th' maister oppened sich a shop 'at aw thowt th' top ov his heead had come off, but aw reckoned to tak noa noatice an' aw worked away wi my gapin' stick woll th' maister axed me ha aw liked my ox tail soup. " Dun yo call i CI\EAM OF WIT AND HUMOUF^ 111 this OX tail soup," aw said, an' aw held up a caah tooith ommust big enuff to male a knife heft. Aw thowt it wor a gooid joak, but noa- body else seem'd to see it, an' th' mistress ordered th' waiter to tak it away instantum. When we'd all etten woll we wor ommost brusscn they browt a lot o' black bottles wi' silver necks in, an' we'd all a glass o' some sooart o' pop. By th' heart an' it wor pop too. " Dun yo mak this yoursen, mistress?" aw axed. " By gingo, this licks awr traitle drink into fits, yo mun give me th' resait, if yo have it." "This is shanipane, sur," shoo said. "Aw dooant care whether it's sham or not, it's as gooid as owt o'th' sooart aw've tasted, aw'll thank you for another drop," " Help yourself, my friend," said th' maister, an aw did, aboon a bit, but ha long aw wor at it or ha monny bottles aw emptied aw niver knew, for some ha aw fell asleep, an' when aw wakken'd aw wor at hooam, an' my owd woman wor callin aat, " Are ta baan ta get up, yond's th' last whew." »l finite, iai*s, ddthig m. <>■ ^MILES are things aw like to see, an' '^^^ they're noa less acceptable becoss some- times ther's a tear or two. A chap at's a heart ov a reight sooart under his waistcoit cannot alius be smilin'. Awve met a deal o' sooarts o' fowk i' my bit o' time, an' th' best aw iver met had a tear i' ther ee nah an' then. If ther's owt aw hate to see, its a chap at's allu? smilin', an' if iver yo meet sich a one set him daan to be aAvther a haufthick or a hypocrite — yo'll be sure to be reight. It'll be time enufF to be alius giinnin' when all th' warkhaases an' th' prisons are to let — when lawyers have to turn farmers, an' bumbaileys have to emigrate — when yo connot find a soldier's or a policeman's suit ov clooas, except in a museum — when ther's noa CI\EAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. II3 childer fun frozen to th' deeath o' London Brig — an' when poor fowk get more beef an' less bullyin'. If iver sich a time comes woU aw live, aw'U laff wi' th' best on em, but till then a claad sometimes will settle on mi here, — an awm glad 'at it is soa. Aw niver see a chap 'at's tryin to get on but what he reminds me ov once gooin to a Baptist chapel to see a lot o' fowk kursened. Every- body wor feightin' for th' front pews, an' them 'at gate 'em had to haddle e'm an' net be per- ticular abaat ther shirt collar — an' when a chap starts aat for a front place i' this life he has to rough it, an' if he succeeds aw wonder some- times if he's ony better off nor them 'at gate th' front seeats i'th' chapel, for all 'at wor behund 'em seem'd to be tryin' to shove 'em ovver into th' bottom, an' nah an' tlien aw noaticed odd uns 'at could bide noa longer, an' gave up th' spot they'd fowt soa hard to get, an' sombdy behund, 'at had hardly tewd a bit dropt into th' seat. And sich is life: it isn't alius th' workers 'at succeed, net it marry ! its th' skeeamers ! it's them 'at keeps ther een oppen. But aw con alius thoil 'em owt they get, if, when they're -h- ji 114 CI\EAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. climbin' up th' stee, they niver put ther heel on another chap's neck, by traidin' on his fingers, to mak him lawse his hold. It's a wrang nooation 'at some fowk have getten, to "get brass hon- estly if yo can, an' if yo cannot, try to keep a easy conscience, an' do baat it." Some chaps '11 niver get on ; they're alius gooin' to mend, but they niver start. Sich like should tak a pattern throo th' Almenack makkers — they've lost eighteen haars this last three years, an' if they didn't mind they'd loise six raooar this time, but they tak care net to do soa, — they shove a day extra into February to mak it up, and they call it "leap year," and it ud be a rare gooid job if fowk wod tak a few laups this year; — laup aat o'th' ale- house on to th' hearthstun at home — laup aat o' bed i' time for th' church ov a Sunday mornin' — laup aat o' th' clutches o' th' strap shop — laup aat o' th' gate o' Dad company — laup up to yo're wark wi' a smile, an' laup back hooam wi' it, an' yo'll find th' \vife's heart ul laup wi joy to see yo comin' back cheerful, an' th' childer ul laup on to yo'r knee, an' yo'll be capt ha easy it'll be to laup over ony bits o' trouble 'at yo' meet wi'. But alius laup forrard if it's possible ; for if yo C^EAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. II5 try to laup backards yo'll run th' risk o' braikin yo'r neck, an' noabody pities them 'at laups aat o' th' fryin' pan into th' fire, an' it's a easy matter to miss it. — Aa dear o' me ! aw think it is ! — and yo'd think soa if yo'd seen what aw saw once. A mate o' mine courted a lass, an' he'd monny a miss afore he gat throo wi it. He used to go an' tawk to her throo a brokken window 'at ther wor i' th' weshhaase, an' one neet shoo'd promised to meet him thear, an' he wanted to kuss her as usual, but he started back, " Nay, Lucy," he said, " aw'm sure thart nooan reight. Has ta been growin' a mustash?" Mew ! mew ! it went ; an' he fan aat he'd kuss'd th' owd Tom cat. When th' neighbours gate to know, they kursened him "Kusscat," an' they call him soa yet. But that wom't all ; for when he went to get wed he wor soa flustered woll he stood i' th' wrang place, an' when th' time coom for him to put th' ring on, he put it on th' woman next to him — he thowt it didn't mean, for he cud get it swap'd after, but when it wor ower they all began to find aat ther'd been a mistak. "Why, Kusscat," said one, "what's ta been doin'? Tha's getten wed to thi | Il6 CREAM OF WIT AND HUMUOI\^ mother." Th' parson look'd glum, but he said, " It's noa use botherin' nah, its too lat, you should ha' spokken afoor — an' aw think he's fittest to be wi' his mother." But he roar'd like a bull, an' begged th' parson to do it ower, an' do it reight ; but Lucy said, " He'd noa cashion, for shoo'd live an' dee an owd maid for iver afoor shoo'd have ony chap second hand." But her heart wom't as hard as shoo thowt, soa, shoo gave in, an' th' next time they managed better. A SHORT time ago Mr. Fitzivitz, of Rank end, was seen to be swimming at a great rate and making a most extensive spread in the river plate. Several friends cautioned him not to go SO far out of his depth, but he was utterly heedless of advice, he dived still deeper, and was obser- ved to sink over head and ears in debt, leaving a large circle of friends to bewail his loss. His body has since been recovered, but all that could have comforted his anxious friends had fled, alas for ever. ^m it M|i. ^HER'S a deal o' things scattered raand, at if fowk ud tak th' trouble to pick up might do 'em a paar o' gooid, an' my advice is, if yo meet wi' owt i' yor way 'at's likely to mak life better or happier, sam it up, but first mak sure yo've a reight to it. Nah, aw once knew a chap at fan a topcoit, an' he came to me, an' says — "A'a lad ! awve fun one o' th' grandest topcoits to-day at iver tha clapt thi' een on." " Why, where did ta find it ?" aw says. " Reight o' th' top o' Skurcoit moor." "Well, tha'rt a lucky chap," aw says, "what has ta done wi' it?" Aw niver touched it; aw left it just whear it wor." " Well, tha art a fooil ; tha should ha' brout it hooam." " E'ea ! an' aw should ha' done, but does ta see ther wor a chap in it," Aw tell'd him Il8 CREAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. he'd made a fooil on me, an' aw consider'd mysen dropt on, but noa moor nor he wor wi' havin' to leave th' coit. " Neer heed," he said " fowk can alius do baat what they can't get," an' aw thowt ther wor a bit o' wisdom i' what he said. But what caps me th' mooast is at fowk tug an' tew for a thing as if ther life depended on it, an' as sooin as they find they cannot get it, they turn raand an' say they care nowt abaat it. We've all heeard tell abaat th' "fox an' grapes," an' ther's a deal o' that sooart o' thing. This world's full o' disappointments, an' we've all a share, Th' Bradford Exchange wor oppened this month, 1867, an' aw luk on it, that wor a sad disappointment to some, " Exchange is noa robbery," they say, but if some fowk knew what it had cost, they might think it had been a dear swap. Ther are fowk at call it " a grand suc- cess" — but then awve heeard some call th' Halifax Taan Hall "a grand success," but they haven't made me believe it. It may do a deal o' gooid, aw'll not deny that ; it may taich fowk to let things alooan at they dooan't understand — let's hooap soa. Ovver th' door-hoil they've put " Act Wisely," an' it's time they did. Its CI\EAM OF WIT AND HUMOUI\^ II9 summat like telling a chap to be honest, at the same time yo'r picking his pocket. But we've noa business to grummel, its awr duty to " sub- mit to th' powers that be" (if they're little ens) ; but a chap cannot help langin' for th' time when brains an' net brass shall fit a man for a Taan Caancillor, But fowk mun get consolation aat o' summat, soa they try to fancy th' Taan Hall luks handsome. Its like th' chap 'at saw his horse fall into th' beck; — ^he tugg'd an' pool'd, and shaated an' bawl'd, but th' horse went flooatin' on, plungin' its legs abaat, makkin' th' watter fly i' all direckshuns. but it wur noa use, for it wur draanded at th' last. When he went hooam he tell'd th' wife abaat it " What does ta say ?" shoo says ; *' is it draanded ?" " E'es, it's draanded, lass ; but it ud ha' done thi e'en gooid to ha' seen it , aw wor capt, — mun it wur a topper to swim, an' that's a comfort ; tha knows we could niver ha' known that if it had niver been tried." Lets hooap 'at when they've another to build they'll do better. Its niver too late to mend, an' we're niver too owd to leearn ; but its hard wark 120 CI^AM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. to taich some. Aw remember once a chap tellin' me hah they made sooap, an' he said "three-thirds o' sooap wor tollow, an' tother summat else." Aw tried to show him 'at it couldn't be soa, for if three-thirds wor tollow it must be all tollow ; but he said, aw " needn't start o' taichin' him ; when he'd been a sooap boiler twenty year he owt to know." Aw saw it wor noa use me talkin', for as Wordsworth says (or else he doesn't) " Twor throwing words away, for still, The soap-boiler wod have his will, And said, " Three-thirds wor tollow.' But who is ther 'at niver does wrang ? net th' odd en ! Them 'at live i' glass haases shouldn't throw stooans; soa we'll drop it. We're all fooils at times. -I gmih. W^HER'S some bom fooils, an' ther's some '^ mak thersen fooils, an' ther's some get made fooils on. When we hear fowk tell tales abaat sein' boggards, an gettin' ther planets ruled, we think it saands fooilish. Nah an' then one turns up ray ther simple, an' a body con hardly help laffin'. It's net long sin' aw heeard tell of a owd woman goin' to th' Pooast Office i' Bolton, an' axin to see th* maister, an, when he coom shoo said shoo wanted to know hah monny stamps it 'ud tak' to send a mangle to Yeaworth. He couldn't tell her, an' shoo went away thinkin' what a fooil he wor net to know his business better nor that, an' he thowt what a fooil shoo wor for axin sich a question. An' soa it is ; — we're apt to think iverybody fooils but ussen, an' them 'at belangs to us. Yo doant oft find a mother or fayther 'at thinks ther 122 CI\EAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. lad's a fooil (unless he gets wed, an' then they alius say soa.) Iverybody's child is th' grandest an' th' cliverest i'th world. But aw couldn't help laffin' one day when I heeard a chap brag- gin' abaat his lad. " Aa," he said, " he's cliver- est lad of his age aw iver met ; he's nobbut thir- teen year owd an' he con do owt." Just as he wor sayin' soa th' lad coom into th' raam, aitin' a raw turnip, an' his fayther thowt he'd show him off a bit, soa he said, " Jack a want thee to go an' messur th' length o' that piece o' timber 'at's i'th yard, an come tell me." Soa he gave him his two-fooit rule, an' th' lad went. Aw thowt he wor a long time abaat it, but in a bit he coom back. "Well, Jack," said his fayther, " ha long is it ? spaik up, that's a fine lad." " Why," he says, " it's th' length o' yo'r rule, ah' my pocket comb, an' this piece o' band." " That's reight," said his fayther. " tha con goa hoam," but aw nooaticed 'at he did'nt brag abaat him quite so mitch at after. If a chap doesn't want to be thowt a fooil, he should niver start o' showin' off befoor fowk till he knows what he's abaat, an' ther's noan on us knows iverything. Aw remember once goin' to CI\EAM. OF WIT AND HUMOUR. I23 th* sale ov a horse, an' th' auctioneer knew varry little abaat cattle, an' he began praisin' it up as he thowt. " Gentlenien," he said, " will you be kind enough to look at this splendid animal ! ex- amine him, gentlemen ; look at his head ; why, gentlemen, it's as big as a chum ! an' talk about points — why, it's all points ; you can hang yo'r hat on any part of him !" He'd just getten soa far, when th' chap 'at belang'd th' horse could bide it noa longer, soa he laup'd up an' pooled th' auctioneer daan bith' hair o'th' heead. "Tha may be an auctioneer," he said, " but tha'rt noa ostler." But it isn't long sin' aw wor at a sale o' picturs, i'th' Teetotal Hall, at Halifax, an' th' chap 'at wor sellin' put up one lot an' made this speech : — " Ladies and Gentlemen, — The next lot I have the pleasure to offer you are three pictures of ' Joan of Arch' a French lady of dis- tinction, who fought at the Battle of Waterloo against the Duke of Wellington, and was after- wards burnt at the siege of Moscow. How much shall I say for this lot ?" Aw walk'd aat when awd heeard that, for aw thowt he might happen be a ostler, but blow me if he wor fit for an auctioneer. But we con forgi' a chap luk- 124 CI\EAM. OF WIT AND HUMOUR. kin fooilish sometimes, if he doesn't mak' other fowk luk soa; but when that chap at Saathawarm put bills up to call a meeting o'th' committee to consider what color to whitewash th' schooil, they all felt fooilish. A young chap 'at's just popp'd th' question to a young woman feels rayther fooilish if shoo says " Noa." An' if shoo says " Yes," he may live to think he wor fooilish. A chap feels fooilish when he's been runnin aboon a mile to catch th' train, an' just gets thear i' time to see it move off an' leave him. A chap feels fooilish when he goas to th' chapel when ther's a collection, an' finds he's left th' hawpenny at hooam he thowt o' givin', an's nowt noa less nor hauf a craan. A chap feels fooilish if he's been rakein' aat all th' neet, an' when he gets hooam his wife finds a woman's neet-cap hung to his coit button. A chap luks fooilish when he's tellin' a tale an' for- gets hah it finishes. A woman luks fooilish when shoo's lost her hair pins, an' her false bob's hingin' daan her back. An' ther are times when we're all fooilish, an' awm feeard if aw doant stop yo may begin to think me fooil- ish, soa aw'U drop it. ^tonitt' §MU ^«ttti ^^AY is abaat th* warst pairt o'th' year for a ^ wed chap, for he connot walk aat, an' he connot be comfortable at hooam, becoss it's th' cleeanin' daan time. Talk abaat weshin' days ! they're fooils to cleeanin' days. Buckstun lime an' whitewesh, bees-wax an' turpitine — black-leead an' idleback, stare a chap i' th' face ivery where. Pots an' pans — weshin' bowls an' peggy tubs, winteredges an' clooas lines — brooms an' besoms — dish claots an' map claots, block up ivery nook an' corner ; an' if iver ther is a time when a chap dam't spaik it's then. If he thinks th' haase is cleean enuif, an' doesn't want owt dooin' at, his wife's sure to call him a mucky haand, an' say 'at he wodn't care if he wor up to th' shoo tops i' filth ; an' if he says he thinks it 126 CI\EAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. wants a cleean, shoo'll varry sooin ax him if he can tell her whear ther's another haase as cleean, for shoo doesn't know one, an' if he does, he's welcome to goa. But it all ends i' th' same thing — its th' time o' th' year for a reight upset, an' it '11 ha to have it, whether it wants it or net. Ther's noa way to suit a woman at sich times, but to be as quiet as yo can. If yo say, " Come, lass, con aw help thi a bit," shoo's sure to snap at yo, as if shoo'd bite yor heead off, an' tell yo to get aat ov her gate, for yor alius under her nooas, woll shoo can do nowt. An' if yo goa aat o'th' gate, shoo'll ax yo as sooin as yo come in, ha yo can fashion to spend yor time gaddin abaat when yo know ha things is at hooam, an' you dooant care th' toss ov a button for her, but just mak her into a slave, an' niver think o' sich a thing as liggin' on a helpin' hand Ther's noa way to do but to bide it as weel as yo can, an' say little, for it doesn't last long. But even when its ovver, yo mun be careful what yo say, for if yo tell her yo think it luks better for th' labor, shoo's sure to say at "shoo sees varry little difference, an' shoo wor fare capt, for ivery thing wor as cleean as a pin." An' if yo say yo CI^AM. OF WIT AND HUMOUI^ I27 can see noa difference, shoo'll say, " Tha can see novvt !" — but shoo knows whether its different or net, for shoo's taen aboon a barro' looad o' muck aat o' that haase that wick. Soa my advice is, to say nowt at sich times till yo're axed, an then say as they say. Aw once heeard ov a young couple at wor baan to get wed, an' they made it up alius to say an' think alike, an' then they'd be sure net to fall aat; soa they went to th' church an' gate made man an ,wife, an' as they wor walkin' hooam he said, "Aw think this is th' happiest day o' awr lives." " E'ea," shoo says, "aw think it is." "Aw think we shall have some rain afoor long," he said. "E'ea," shoo says, "aw think it luks likely for weet." "A'a did ta iver see a faaler bonnet nor that lass has on," shoo said ? " Noa lass, aw think awniver did," he replied; "but what a bonny lass shoo is, isn't shoo?" "Nay, nobbut middlin'," shoo says. "Well, aw think her a beauty." "Aw wonder where tha luks," shoo said, " but if tha'rt soa taen wi' her, tha con have her astead o' me." " Nay, lass," he said, " tha knows we've agreed alius to think an' say alike, an' awm sure shoo's a varry bonny lass." a 4 128 CREAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. " Well an' awm sure shoo's as plain a stick as iver aw saw i' all my life, an' if aw agree to say an' think what tha does, it wor cos aw thowt tha wor reight i' thi heead." Soa they walk'd hooam lukkin varry glum, an' differ'd for th' futer same as other fowk. When a chap gets wed he should be ready for th' warst. Aw once knew a chap 'at fell i' love wi a woman 'at he met in a railway train, an' as they lived a long way apart, they did ther coortin i' writin' an' at last th' day wor fixed for 'em to get wed. Joa went to fotch her an' walk her to th' church, an' as they wor gooin' he thowt shoo walked rayther queer, soa he says, " Susy, does ta limp ?" "Limp!" shoo says, "net aw, aw limp noan." Soa they went on, an' just as they wor gooin' into th' church, he said, " Susy, awm sure tha seems to limp." "A'a, Joa," shoo says, "aw wonder what tha'U say next." Soa Joa an' Susy gate wed. When they wor gooin hooam he said, " Susy, awm sure tha limps." " Aw know aw limp," shoo says, "aw alius limp'd; is a woman ony war for limpin' ?" -^et mr^. i«g-^«Iu«g. HOPE my readers will regard that varry gooid advice, when they see th' grass cut — "Mak hay woll th 'sun shines." There's noAvt aw like better nor to spend a day or two in a hay field. Tawk abaat "Ho de Colong !" It doesn't smell hauf as weel to me as a wisp o' new made hay. An' them 'at niver knew th' luxury a' gooin' to bed wi' tired booans, should work i'th' hay-field for a wick. It'll do onnybody gooid ; an' if some o' them idle laewts 'at stand bi a duzzen together at th' loin ends laikin at pitch an' toss, wod goa an' work at pitch an' toss, they'd be better booath i' mind an' body an' pocket. Tossin' th' hay is booath healthful an' lawful, but tossin' hawpneys (especially them wi' heeads o' booath sides) is nawther. Hay makkin' is a honest callin', an' when a chap is 130 CI\EAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. gettin' his livin' honestly (noa matter what he does), he feels independent, — an' when a chap feels soa, he can afifooard to spaik what he thinks. Aw remember once callin' at th' " Calder an' Hebble" public haase, an' sittin' in a raam wi' a lot o' young swells 'at coom throo Sowerby Brigg; an' in a bit, a trampified lukkin' chap coom in, an' called for a glass o' ale. This didn't suit th' young gentlemen, soa one on 'em says to him, "Fellow, you are an intruder." "Tha'rt a liar," th' chap says, "awm nowt at sooart, awm a cheer-bottom mender an' aw've sarved mi time to it." " You don't understand me, sir ; what I mean is that you have no busi- ness here." Noa, lad ; aw niver come to theeas shops when aw've ony business, aAv alius do that furst." This rayther puzzled th' young swell, an' his face went as red as a hep, cos aw lafif'd at him ; an' he struck his naive o'th' table ; " Sir," said he, " will you take your departure ?" " Noa," he said, " aw'll tak nowt 'at doesn't belang to me if aw know on it." " You're an insolent scoun- drel, and I leave you witli contempt." "Yo can leeav me wi' who yolike," he said, "awstmislest noabody if they behave thersen'. They all went Ci\EAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. I3I an' left him, an' as sooin as they'd getten aat o'th' seat he set up a gurt laff, an' called for another glass ; an' aw nooatised at he gave th' landlord a sovereign to tak pay aat on, an' when he brout him his change back, he said, " Thank you, sir," an' bow'd to him as if he'd been one o'th' gentry. This happened o'th' same day as aw'd been at Briggus, an' awst net forget that in a hurry: — aw'll tell yo abaat it. It wor a varry hot day, an' aw'd walked throo Halifax, an' wor beginin' to get rayther dry, an' when aw'd getten ommost thear, aw saw a booard shoved aat ov a chamer winder, wi' th' words painted on, " Prime Ginger Beer Sold here," soa aw went into th' haase an' ax'd for a bottle. He browt me a old hair oil bottle filled wi' summat, an a varry mucky-lukkin glass to sup aat on. " Cannot yo let me have a cleean glass, maister?" aw axed. "That's clean,'" he says, " for aw bowt it aboon twelve months sin, an' it's niver been used for owt but pop." Aw emptied th' bottle into it, an it lukk'd ommost like milk sops. "Wliat do yo call all thease things at's swimmin' abaat?" aw says. "0, that's yeast, young man ; it's a varry gooid thing for ther inside ; aw'd a doctor once call'd for a 132 CI\EAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. bottle, an' he wodn't let me talc a bit aat : it does fowk gooid." "Well, but wodn't he let yo talc some o' tlieas pieces o' cork aat?" aw axed. " Net a bit ! for he said they acted tother rooad, an' it wor th' best to sup th' lot." " Do yo sell a gooid deal o' this, maister?" " A'a bless yo ! aw do that. Ther wor a real lady coom here o' Sunday afternooin, an' shoo supp'd seven bottles, an' shoo said shoo'd ha supped seventeen but her stumack wor varry kittle, an' shoo wor feear'd e' upsettin it." "An' wor ther as mich yeast in 'em as ther is i' this?" aw said. " E'ea! an' moor i' some." "Why, then," aw said, " aw should think shoo'd rise early i'th momin'." "Ther's nowt noa better for gooin' to bed on, nor for gettin' up on, nor that pop." Just then somdy coom in for a hawporth o' mustard, an' woll he turn'd raand aw emptied it daan th' sink, paid mi penny, an' hook'd it. Soa mich for Briggus, aw thowt. Aw've oft heeard it spokken on as a risin' place, an noa wonder if they swallow yeast at that rate. But aw dooant see what all this has to do wi' haymakkin', soa aw'll rake up noa moar sich like things, for fear yo pitch into me. ll0nimr«jttlt Wuh. (3 ^^I^H' mooast remarkable thing 'at aw con recollect abaat this time last year, wor a trip to Hollin worth Lake. Ther'd been a collection made at th' Longloin Sunday Schooil for a new gas meeter; an after they'd getten th' brass, they bethought 'em 'at th' old en could be made do, an' soa th' taichers agreed to have a trip wi' th' funds. They argued a gooid deeal abaat ha to spend it, an' at last it wor decided they should walk all th' rooad, an' spend it as they went on. They started aat at four o'clock one Setterday morn in' i' furst rate fettle. Ther wor six men an' seven women ; but as th' superintendent wor as big as two, they considered thersen weel paired. They trudged nicely on till they gate to Bolton Brow, an' then 134 CREAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. two or three began to feel faint, an' Swallow (that's th' superintendent's name) propooased 'at they should have a drop o' drink to revive 'em. Noabdy had owt to say agean that, soa as th' public haase wor just oppened, one on 'em went in an' browt aat a quart pitcher full an' handed it to Swallow to sup th' furst. An' he did sup — for when he left lause ther wor nowt left but th' froth on his upper lip to tell at ther'd iver bin ony. "Well," said Lijah, "aw've heeared swallows called burds of passage, but if they'd all a passage like thee, they'd sup th' sea dry." "Thasees, Lijah," he said, "awm unfortunate, for aw've a thirst on me 'at aw connot quench, an' aw dam't sup watter for fear o' havin' th' dropsy." All th' women agreed 'at he wor reight, an' soa after another quart amang 'em they went on. What wi' laffin, an' talkin,' an' smookin, they gate to Blackstone Edge Moor, an, some of the women thowt it time for a rest, soa Swallow stop'd all at once an' said, " Do yo all see that stooan post 'at's standin' thear? That's the stooan at devides Yorksher an' Lankysher, an' aw think this a varry fit time to say a few words C^EAM OF WIT AND HUMOUI^^ I33 woll yo ease yor legs a bit." Soa up he clirab'd onto th' pooast, an' began praichin away, an' kept at it woll they wor all hauf pined to deeath. At last Lijah said, " Hang it up, ha long are ta baan to talk ? aw wonder thi conscience doesn't prick thi!" ''Prick me!" he said, "Aw defy owt to prick me when awm laborin' for a gooid cause." Just then he ovver balanced hissel an' fell slap into th' middle ov a whin bush ; but he wor up in a crack, an' one o' th' lasses said, " if his conscience hadn't getten prick'd summat else had," an' they went forrard, but Swallow kept his hand under his coit lap for a mile or two. They gate to th' lake at last, an' after enjoyin' what they call th' seea breeze, they started off to see some o' th' places ov interest. One o' th' furst they steer'd to wor th' birth- place o' Tim Bobbin. "An' who wor Tim Bobbin ?" said one o' th' lasses. This puzzled 'em, for ther worn't one i'th' lot 'at knew ; but one o' th' chaps said he thowt, if he worn't mis- takken, he wor th' inventor o' th' spinnin' mule. Th' superintendent said that wor varry likely, for he'd oft nooatised when readin' history books, 'at chaps gate ther names throo summat they'd 136 CI^EAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. done, an' soa varry likely he gate called Tim Bobbin for that reason. After that they went back an* had a ride in a booat, an' as nooan on 'em knew ha to row, th' watter were varry sooln ankle deep inside ; some on 'em began to grummel at this. "Oh, niver heed," said Swallow, "yo'll niver catch cold m' salt watter." It wom't long afoor they wanted ther tea, soa they went into th' haase an' ordered a gooid feed. Aw've heeard cunj urors say, " Quick, Jack, fly," when they've been puttin' sunimataat o'th' seet; but ther wom't time to say that wi' them, for th' breead and butter went like leetnin'. One plate full after another kept comin' in, till at last th' mistress said, " Aw think yo must ha' been hungry ?" " E'ea, it's change o' climate 'at does it," they said. Soa shoo browt in a fresh lot, but it made noa difference; away it went after tother. " Do yo' know," shoo says, when shoo coom in agean, " at yo've etten two pund o' breead apiece?" "Why what's two pund when its cut thin," they said ? An' at it they went agean. When they couldn't find room for ony moor, they paid ther shot an' start- ed off hooam, whear they landed safely. Th' CI\EAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. I37 next Sunday neet, when th' gas wor lit at schooil, iverybody wor capt to see what an' im- provement th' new meter wor, Soa after passin' a vote o' thanks to th' superintendent an' th' t:aichers for th' trouble they' been put to, th' matter dropt. Hapegi. A LECTURE on this subject was delivered on Tuesday evening, to the members of the Ladies' Needle and Thimble Association, by the Rev. James Sleek, curate of St, Enock's-in-the-Mist, After adverting to the plagues of Egypt, the learned lecturer dwelt at length upon the plagues of the present day, which he classed under the following heads : — Servants, poor relations, bor- rowers, teetotallars, tobacco-smokers, and chil- dren in arms. To counteract these evils were such associations as the one he had the honor to address, select tea meetings, fancy bazaars, and perambulators. The lecture gave great satisfaction. ^ttfl o' tK %M, ITS a long loin 'at's nive • a turn," an' th' longest loin ends somewhear. Ther's a end to mooast things, an' this is th' end o' th' year. When a chap gets turned o' forty, years dooant seem as long as once they did — he begins to be feeared o' time rolling on — ^but it's fooilish, for it nawther gooas faster nor slower nor iver it did. But he's a happy chap 'at, when th' year ends, can luk back an' think ha mich gooid he's done, for it isn't what a chap will do for th' futer, its what he has done i'th' past 'at fowk mun judge by. Its net wise for onybody to booast o' what they mean to do in a month's time, becoss we cannot tell what a month's time may do for us. We can hardly help havin' a gloomy thowt or two at this part o'th' year, but CI\EAM OP WIT AND HUMOUR. I39 Kursmiss comes to cheer us up a bit, an' he's nooan ov a gooid sooart 'at can't be jolly once i'th' year. As an owd friend o' mine has cliver- ly said : — Come let us choose the better part, And sing whilst life is given ; A cheerful and contented heart Gives no offence to Heaven. 'Tis Christmas time, then fill the horn. Away with melancholy. If there's no leaves upon the thorn, There is upon the holly. Hi ! varry true ! When ther's nd leaves upon th' thorn, they're green upon the holly. Ther's alius summat to be thankful for if we seek it aat — ther's sure to be a bit o' sunshine somewhere — an' its a varry bad case if a chap can't find consolation aat o' summat. Aw remember a case ov a woman deein' 'at aw knew, an' aw met th' husband lukkin' varry glum a bit at after. "Well, Joa," aw said, "tha's had a heavy loss, lad." " Eea, aw have," an' then after studdyin' a bit, he said, " but aw should ha had to ha bowt a new suit afoor long, an' aw mud as weel buy black as ony other 140 CREAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR, color ; it wod ha been awkerd if aw'd just getten a white hat, as aw tho^vt on — but Providence orders all things for th' best." Ther's noa daat a gooid lot on us find con- solation aat o'th' Kursmiss jollification — its just a bit ov a sweetener afoor all th' nooats begin o' commin' in ; aw dooant mean five paand nooats, ther's nooan monny o' them stirrin'. It's th' coil nooats, an' gas nooats, an' tax papers, them's th' sooart at's stirrin abaat this time. Wheniver ther's a knock at th' door, yo may ventur to put yor hand i' yor pocket ; an' happy he must feel 'at can alius find as mich thear as'll do. But its time enuff to think abaat that sooart o' thing when it comes ; we've plenty to do nah to think abaat plum pudding an' rooast beef— an' aw hooap at iverybody 'at reads this may have enuff an' to spare. If aw could do owt to help yo to enjoy yorsen, awin sure aw wod, but as that's aat o' mi paar, just afoor aw leave for another twelve months aw'll gie yo a tooast, an' aw hooap yo'll all drink a bumper to it. Here gooas ! Fill up to th' brim ! Are yo ready ? Here's off! CI^EAM. OF WIT AND HUMOUR^ I4I God bless ivory one raand yor table Wi' plenty to ait an' to spare ; God bless yo an' mak yo all able To enjoy •what may fall to yor share. God bless yo wi healrii an' wi riches, God bless yo wi hearts 'at can feel For the poor, when cold poverty twitches, God bless them sometimes wi' a meal. God bless them 'at's climbin' life's mountain, Full ov hooaps 'at they niver may craan. An' refresh from Tliy cool, soothin' fountain, Those who paddle resignedly daan. An' tho' in death's mist-shrouded valley Our friends we may lose for a while, God grant that at last all may rally Where suideet shall fade in His smilo. Gooid-bye ^tittitiUt, After the annual excursion of the Lowly Dale Scientific Society, the members were addressed by Mr. Evertrot Gagthorp. New specimens, the product of their recent journey, now enrich the Museum : viz. In Geology — Limestone, pumice stone, soft stone, white stone, plum stone, and cherry stone. Conchology — Egg shell, Tortoise shell, nut shell and satchel. Botariy — Corn flour, grog blossom, and many leaves from the book of nature. Entomology — a swallow tail had been ob- tained, but the president going to a dress party, had got the loan of it. mm. |N Valentine's day, will a gooid gooise lay," is a varry old sayin', an' aw dare say a varry gooid en ; an' if all th' geese wod nobbut lay o' that day ther'd be moor chonce o' eggs bein' cheap. But it isn't th' geese we think on at th' fourteenth o' this month i'ts th' little ducks, an' th' billy dux. A'a aw wish aw'd all th' brass 'at's spent o' valentines for one year ; aw wodn't thank th' queen to be mi aunt. Ther's nobdy sends me valentines nah. Aw've known th' time when they did, but aw'm like a old stage cooach, aw'm aat o' date. Aw'st niver forget th' furst valentine aw had sent. Th' pooastman browt it afoor aw'd getten aat o' bed, an' it happen'd to be Sunday mornin'. Aw read it ower an' ower agean, an' aw luk'd at th' direc- CF\EAM OF WIT AND HUMOUR. I43 tions an' th' pooast mark, but aw cudn't make aat for mi life who'd sent it ; but whoiver it wor aw wor detarmined to fall i' love wi' her as sooin as aw gate to know. Then aw shov'd it under th' piller an' shut mi een an' tried to fancy what sooart ov a lass shoo must be, an' somcha aw fell asleep, an' aw dremt, but aw willn't tell yo what aw dremt for fear yo'll lafif. But when aw wak- ken'd, aw sowt up an' daan, but nowhere could aw find th' valentine. Aw wor ommost heart- brokken, an' aw pool'd all th' cloas off th' bed, an' aw luk'd under it, an' ower it, but net a bit on it could aw see, an' at last aw began to fancy 'at aw must ha dremt all th' lot, an' 'at aw'd niver had one sent at all ; but when aw wor gettin' mi breeches on, blow me ! if it wom't stuck fast wi a wafer to mi shirt lap. What her 'at sent it ud a sed if shoo'd seen it, aw can't tell, an' aw wodn't if aw could ; but aw know one thing, aw wor niver i' sich a muck sweeat afoor sin aw wor born, an' when aw went to mi braikfast aw wor soa maddled, wol aw couldn't tell which wor th' reiglit end o'th' porridge spooin, but aw comfort- ed misen at last wi' thinkin' 'at aw wom't th' furst 'at had turned ther back ov a valentine. John Hartley's Works More Popular than Ever. Bound in Cloth. Price 2s. 6d. By Post 4d. Extra. YOEESHER PUDDIIT': A COLLECTION OF THE MOST POPULAR DIALECT STORIES, FROM THE PEN OF JOHN HARTLEY, (THE YORKSHIRE POET.) It contains— " Abraham's Sparrib — A Queer Dream— A Neet at Widcmp's Rest — A Run Ovver th' Year— Awr Emma — Fire Paand Nooat — Frozen to Death — Ha a Deead Donkey Tought a Lesson — Ha O wd Stoansnatch's Dowter gate Wed— Hard to Pleeas- It Mud ha' been AVar— Mak th' best on't^Mi Fii'st Testimonial— Moravian Knight's Entertainments— Mose Hart's Twelrth Mess— Mis. Spaiktruth's Pairty— Nay fer Sewer— Niver judge by aj^pearances — One Amang th' Rest — One, Two, Three — Owd Moorcock — Owd Dawdles — Owd Tommy— Peaace Makkin' — Pil Jim's Progiess wi' John's Bunion — Pro- perty Huntin'— Put i^p wi' it— Ratcatchin'— Sammy Bewitched— SiUy Billy— Sperrit Rappin'— Ther's a Mule i' th' Garden- Tinkliu' Tom— Th' New Schooil Board— Tha Caps me Nah— Th' Battle o' Tawkin'— Th' Mystery of Bm-t's Babby— Th' New Railroad— Th' Hoil-i'-th'-Hill Statty— What's yor Hurry— Wuy Tommy isn't a Deacon." " Some of these racy sketches having been for many years out of print, the publishers have done well in issuing them in the present handy, and indeed, handsome form, prefaced with a portrait of the author — a handsome, intel- lectual face, with the Ups apparently in the act of whistling or humming a favourite air. The tales and poems, some forty in number, are varied in interest, but exceedingly characteristic, pathos and merriment impartially mingling with rustic sunpUcity and Yorkshii-e cleverness. The dialect, by no means difficult to read, is certainly less uncouth in southern eyes than the rich Doric of Edinburgh and the Scottish Lowlands."— i.Vio/tJscHer, April, 1877. " The stories are, as a rule, full of point and character; they are wrought out with much Uterary tact. Amongst the old friends which wOl be widely welcomed, we may mention ' There's a Mule i' th' Garden,' ' It Mud ha' been War,' ' Sammy Bewitched,' and ' Owd Dawdles.' There are about foi-ty pieces in aU, and we may fairly say that they represent Mr. Hartley perhaps as well as anything that he has previously published. For public eeadikgs this volume will prove a valuable acquisition." — Bradford Observer. The CLOCK ALMANACK, By John Haetley, is published on the 1st Octoher in each year. It contains the latest jiroductions from his witty pen and is anxiously awaited hy thousands of his admirers. The sale is not less than 60,000 and increases yearly. Price 3d. BypostSjd. Published by W. NICHOLSON & SONS, 26, Paternoster Square, LONDON, E.G., and Albion Works, Wakefield. -r SEETS r LUNDUN: A Yorshireman's Ten Day's Trip, Or Sammywell Griines's Adventures with his friend John Jones Smith. BY JOHN HARTLEY. Price Is. By Post 2d. Extra. If ye've a fancy for a spree ; Come up to Lundun same as me, Yo'U find ther's lots o' things to see, To pleas yo' weel. "It is brimful of fun from beginning to end, and would form an ad- mirable pocket companion on a railway journey, although the greater part of it has such a racy smack about it that one feels a desii e to have some- body at one's elbow to whom to read it aloud. Sammywell Grimes, a native of Bradford, tells the story of liis ten days trip in the Yorkshire dialect, but in so natural and humorous a vein as to make it plain and pleasant read- ing to all English speaking people. This is Grimes's first Trip to "Lundun," and the sights he sees and the adventures he meets with are described in such a manner as to Ining toars of merriment into the eyes of Ix)ndoner and north countryman ahke. For the beauty of it is that Sam has not the smallest idea that people are laugliiag at himself and his native droUery. He stays in London with a friend of the name of Smith, who takes him round to see the lions ; and the reader, especially if he knows the big place pretty well, feels that he is carried from spot to spot in company with the pair of them. Sights and sounds and characters familiar in their endless variety, arise about one, and London is revisited in companionship with a thoronghly jovial, good-hearted, and innocent-minded man. And, mind you, as he gets along with his story yon find out that Sam is far from being such a fool as he looks. Sharpers do, indeed, vmdor very peculiar circumstances, manage to get over him a little, but all the time he shows himself to be " Yorksher" to the backbone, and while compelled to submit to their ex- tortion he protests against it vclienuntly. It is only, however, when he gets accidentaOy sepaiated from Smith, who is a capital cicerone, that he falls into the hands of the PhUistines. Now, when Simday comes, you see fully what the heart of the seeming yokel is made of. It is f uU of reverence. And very often when evening comes, or when Sam is left alone to his meditations, he breaks out in original verse, displaying a degree of benevo- lence and christian charity, which would do honour to a mind, of far greater cultivation and higher pretension than that of our honest friend Sam Grimes. We advise any of our readers who love the company of a ti-uly good, and, at the same time, most amusing fellow, to get introduced to Sam immediately." — Bendigo Advertiser. Published by W. NICHOLSON & SONS, 26. Paternoster Square, LONDON, E.G., and Albion Works. Wakefield. John Hartley's Unrivalled Works. Mr. Hartley's Works stUl maintain their popularity, not only in Yorkshire, but it extends to many parts of the Kingdom and the Colonies. His books have been highly reviewed, unasked, by the Press in Australia. NOW READY. Price One SMlling. BY POST 13. 2d. SEETS r PARIS. SAMMYWELL GRIMES'S TRIP TO PARIS WITH HIS OLD FRIEND BILLY BACCUS; HIS OPINION O'TH' FRENCH, AND TH' FRENCH OPINION O'TH' EXHIBI- TION HE MADE OV HISSEN. By cIoJHN JH/fF^TLEY. AUTHOR OF 'SEETS l' LUNDUN,' 'YORKSHIRE DITTIES,' 'CLOCK ALMANACK,' 'GRIMES'S TRIP TO AMERICA,' 'YORKSHER PUDDIN,' 'MANY A SLIP," 'A ROLLING STONE,' &C. Grimes and Ms Friend in their efforts to see the sights of Paris meet with the most comical adventures, and make the most laughable mistakes, which are des- cribed to perfection in Mr. Hartley's inimitable way. "Mr. Hartley is the most successful of Yorkshire humorists: he is the Yorkshire Bums, the Edwin Waugh of Yorkshire, the man whose literary star is in the ascendant, whose writings stand in relief from all others of the same class." — Wakefield Free Press. PubUshed by W. NICHOLSON & SONS, 26, Paternoster Square, lOJfDON, E.G., and Albion Works, Wakefield. Now Ready, Elegantly Bound in Cloth, Coloured Frontispiece, Price 2s. By Post 2s. 3d. MANY A SLIP. (A Domestic Romance.) BY JOHN HARTLEY. This is a work of great interest, and with the exception of one comical character, is free from dialectism. Mr. H. has evidently worked out the romance in such a skilful manner that it cannot fail to rivet the attention of the reader from the beginning to the end of the book. First and Second Series. Price is. each. By Post 2d. Extra. YORKSHIRE DITTIES, BY JOHN HARTLEY, TO WHICH 18 ADDED, The CREAM of WIT and HUMOUR, From His Popular Writings. ** Mr. Hartley is the most successful of Yorkshire humorists : he is the Yorkshire Burns, the Edwin Waugh of Yorkshire, the man whose literary star is in the ascendant, whose writings stand in relief from all others of the same class." — Wakefield Free Fress. PubUshed by W. NICHOLSON & SONS, 26, PATERNOSTER SQUARE, LONDON, E.C. YORKSHER PUDDIN': A COLLECTION OF THE MOST POPULAR DIALECT STORIES, From the Pen of JOHN HARTLEY. (TBB TOBESHIBE BTTBNS.) Cloth, Price 2S. 6d. By Post 4d. Extra. " A collection of the most popular dialect stories, fiom the pen of John Hartley, author of "Yorkshire Ditties," "Seets i' Lundun," &c, — Some of these racy sketches having been for many years out of print, the publishers have done well in issuing them in the present handy and, indeed, handsome form, prefaced with a poitrait of the author — a handsome, intel- lectual face, with the lips apparently in the act of whistling or humming a faTonrite air. The tales and poems, some forty in number, are varied in interest, but exceedingly characteristic, pathos and merriment impartially mingling with rustic simplicity and Yorkshire cleverness. The dialect, by no means difficult to read, is certainly less uncouth in southern eyes than the rich Doric of Edinburgh and the Scottish Lowlands."— 5ooi«e??er, April, 1877. GRIMES'S TRIP TO AMERICA: Being Ten Comical Letters from Sammywell Grimes to John Jones Smith. BY JOHN HARTLEY. Price Is. By Post 2d. Extra. A Series of the most Comical Sketches ever written, cannot be read without having a laughing Jit. Grimes's adventures with a genuine Yankee (Ananias) on the voyage out and his wanderings in the various cities of the States with him, togetlier with Ananias's wonderfully feitile resources of gaining a livelihood, make the book one of the most comical pubUshed, it is full of really good Fun. Published by W. EICHOLSON & SONS, 26, Paternoster Square, LONDON, E.G., and Albion Works, Wakefield. A SHEAF FROM THE MOORLAND. A COLLECTION OF ORIGINAL POEMS. BY JOHN HARTLEY. Crown 8vo. Price zs. In this Book will be found some Sparkling Gems from the Pen of this talented Author. NEW AND ORIGINAL HUMOROUS DIALOGUES. PRICE TWOPENCE EACH. Any 3 Post Free for yd. No. 1. THE SPIRIT RAPPER. A Humorous Dialogue for Seren Male cluuaoters. No. 2. THE MATRIMONIAL HOAX. A Hmnoious Dialogue for five Male cliaractei'S. No. 3. THE FEAST OF PANCAKES. A Humorous Dialogue for Four characters No. 4. The SALTERHEBBLE RECRUIT. A Humorous Dialogue for Four Male characters. No. 5. THREE TO ONE. A Humorous Dialogue for Five Male fharaeters. No. 6. THE MESMERIC TEA PARTY. A Hmnorous Dialogue for Six Male characters. No. 7. PEACE ON EARTH. A Humorous Dialogue for Male characters, 3 of whom must be able to sing. No. 8. YE RYTE MERRIE MASatTE OF OLDE FATHER CHRISTMASSE. A Humorous Dialogue for Five Male characters. These Dialogues are admirably adapted for Entertainments of all kinds. LONDON HUMOROUS READINGS. By H. LLOYD, the well-known Lo72don Reciter. One Penny E.xcii. The 13 Nos. Bound in Cloth, Crown 8vo. Price Is. No. 1. A CHEAP lEG OF MtTTTON. No. 2. A ROMANTIC YOUNG MAN. No. 3. THE THIRSTY BARBER. No. 4. BUBB'S REVENGE. No. 5. A NICE aUIET NIGHT'S REST. No. 6. HOW MR. JOHNSON CAUGHT THE EXPRESS. No. 7. DICK TUFF'S UNCLE SAM. No. 8. A RAFFLE FOR A PIG. No. 9. THE POSTMAN'S GHOST. No. 10. THE BOYS AT THE BACK. No. 11. A LITTLE COMEDY OF LYING. No. 12. THE LOVING LINEN DRAPER. No. 13. Mr. JOBLEY'S FIRST READING Any % sent Post Free for jd. in Stamps. LONDON : PUBLISHED BY W. NICHOLSON & SONS, 26, Paternoster Square, E.G., and Albion Works, WAKEFIEID. JOHN HARTLEY'S YORKSHIRE TALES. Suitable for Public Readings, Recitations, and Entertainments. Bound in Cloth, ist. and 2nd. Series, price is. each. Also in Numbers, One Penny Each, Any Q sent Post Free for 7d. in Stamps. a u cu d > 00 I « 10 o P 2 4> C O c O OJ "-■a CO-' S S c o ■£■;:: rt - 3 cj 'S > :> 1) w « 2_. i> -5 ~ 1- — '^ ■^ ts G ■;:: — • 0) o ■*-• -^ E i- " W h •-^ n r:: .2 £ Ko. 1. No. 2. No. 3. No. 4. No. 5. No. 6. No. No. No. No. 10. No. 11. No. 12. No. 13. No. 14. No. 15. No. 16. No. 17. No. 18. No. 19. No. 20. No. 21. No. 22. No. 23. No. 24. No. 25. No. 26. No. 27. No. 28. No. 29. No. 30. No. 31. No. 32. No. 33. No. 34. No. 35. No. 36. No. 37. No. 38. No. 39. FROZEN TO DEATH; Or, the Cottas-e on the Hill, SPERRIT RAPPIN'. THER'S aMTJLE i' th' GARDEN. ANEETAT ■WIDDUP'S REST.' MOSE HART'S TWELVTH MESS PHL JIM'S PROGRESS WI' JOHN'S BUNION. THA CAPS ME NAH ! IT MUD HA' BEEN WAK. TINKIIN' TOM, HARD TO PLEEAS. SAMMY BEWITCHED. Niver JUDGE by APPEARANCES AWR EMMA.-A False Alarm. THE MYSTERY OF BURTS' EABBY. ONE AMANG TH' REST. TH' HOIL-I'TH-HUL STATTY. OWD DAWDLES. WHY TOMMY isn't a DEACON. WHAT'S YOR HURRY. HA A DEEAD DONKEY TOWT A LESSON. HA OWD STOOANSNATCH'S DOWTER GATE WED. OWD MOORCOCK. DAWDLES I' TH' DUMPS.- Mi First Testimonial. WHAT Ml' MOTHER SAYS. —Grandfather's Boprsrard. DAWDLES' UMBERELL. - Peter the Pieman. A RUN O-VTER TH' YEAR. GOIN' IN TRADE. -Meddlin' Mary. SWEEP! OH! SWEEP. SEPTIMUS AND HIS BREACH 0' PROMISE. DOYCAKE AN' SPECTRE. SAM'S SUPPER. — Th' GobbUn' Guide. NICODEMUS AN' OBADIAH. NAH FOR ANOTHER START. Puttin' th' best Fooit Forrad. TH' WEDDIN' NEET. OWD STICKER. RAAND ABAAT TH' TAAN. By Sammywell Grimes. SAMMYWELL GRIMES'S TRIP TO SCARBRO' WEDDIN A WIDDY. OH THESE WIDDERS.-Born Soa. UJ >< > t— 1 B ~ 5« X r "0 r 3 > >-* "^ n)_ Z p-in ?CI " P H Eh re P, r w >< 5 r: Z 3^ M • a o Sg is re P C3 o ^ o re 3 3-5- O ^ re O w o z 00 < o JO ft < n O 3 n 10 • LONDON : PUBLISHED BY W. NICHOLSON & SONS, Paternoster Square, E.C., and Albion Works, WAKEFIELJ). 26, Humorous Books. MOMENTS OF AMUSEMENT. Strippings of the Warm Milk of Human Kimlness. — Blifkins the Martyr :— The Modern Syntax ; or Spooner's exijerience in search of the Delectable. Humorous, Eccentric, Rhythmical. By P. B. Shillaher. Cloth, Is. YORKSHIRE DITTIES: By John Hartley ; to which is added The Cream of Wit and Humour, From his Unequalled Popular Writings. First and Second Series. Pnce Is. each. THE RAILWAY BOOK OP PUN; and Amusement, comprising some of the Choicest Specimen* of Anecdote, Wit, Humour, Poetical Effusions, &c., extant. By Pachard Brisk. Esq. Cloth, Is. THE MERRY COMPANION For all readers. Containing a Choice Selection of the most Humorous Anecdotes, Droll Sayings, Wit, Fun and Comical Incidents, in Prose and Poetry ; to enliven dvill hours. By Dr. Merry. Cloth, Is. THE BOOK TO KEEP THE SPIRITS UP In dull and gloomy hours. Comprising Manifestations of Fun, Mirth, Humour, Drollery. Repartee, Wit, with Laughable Anecdotes, Incidents and Poetry. By J. Brighte Esq. Price Is. THE BOOK TO BRIGHTEN A GLOOMY FACE; Or the Book to kill Gloom, Melancholy, Low Spirits, Nervousness, Solemncholy. Dark Anticipations, Soul-killing Forbodings, and thoughts of Suicide. By Cicero Merrysides. Price, Is. FUN BETTER THAN PHYSIC ; or Everybody's Life Preserver, i^y Bob Llghtheart. Price Is. The FUNNIEST OP ALL FUN, and WITTIEST OF ALL WIT. Containing Jaw Cracking Tales. Is. FUN ALIVE ; or JOE MILLER'S NEWEST JEST BOOK. Price Is. 37te above by Post 2d. Extra. PUNCH MADE FUNNIER BY JUDY. Full of Rollicking, Laughable, and Witty Pieces. 6d. JOLLY LAUGHS FOR JOLLY POLKS, Or Funny Jests and Stories, Jocular and Laughable Anecdotes, Jonathanisms, John Bullers, and Paddyisms. 6d. THE BOOK TO MAKE YOU LAUGH; And to drive dull care away. By Andrew Hate-Gloom. Stifi Covers 6d. The above by Post Id. Extra. " These volumes consist of anecdotes, droll sayings, repartees, comical inci- dents and la.nghable events, told in prose and verse. Most of them acceptable for their originality, and all calculated to enUven dull hours, amuse leisure moments sharpen slow wits and dispel melancholy ; in fact, the best set of cheap jest books which has lately appeared."— .BooftseHer/or Christmas. Published by W. Nicholson &" Sons, London. Reciters. THE BEAUTIFUL RECITER; Or a Collection of Entertaining, Patlietic, Witty, and Humorous Pieces, and Dialogues, witli a Selection of Martial, and Oratorical Pieces, in Prose and Verse. Price Is. 6d. THE EXCELSIOR RECITER; Comprising Sentimental, Patlietic, Witty and Humourous Pieces, Speeches, Narrations,