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Et made me cry praaper-butiful et was! 'Twas June then, but she'd afound a little bit of apple-blossom left over somewheres, and stuck et in 'er 'air. That's why I thinks 'er must abeen in an extarsy, to go to et gay, like that. Why! there wasn't more than a fute and 'arf o' watter. But I tell 'ee one thing that meadder's 'arnted; I knu et, an' she knu et; an' no one'll persuade me as 'tesn't.
Leonard Ennen, Der Dom zu Koln, Historische Einleitung, Koln, 1871, pp. 46, 50. See previous chapter. Kofod Ancher, Om gamle Danske Gilder og deres Undergang, Copenhagen, 1785. Statutes of a Knu guild. Upon the position of women in guilds, see Miss Toulmin Smith's introductory remarks to the English Guilds of her father. In medieval times, only secret aggression was treated as a murder.
"'Er never said nothin', but from that day 'er went kind of dazed lukin'; didn'seem rightly therr at all. I never knu a'uman creature so changed in me life never. There was another young feller at the farm Joe Biddaford 'is name wer', that was praaperly sweet on 'er, tu; I guess 'e used to plague 'er wi 'is attentions. She got to luke quite wild.
The lame man answered cautiously: "I shouldn't like to say rightly that 't was there. 'Twas in my mind as 'twas there." "What do you make of it?" The lame man lowered his voice. "They du zay old master, Mist' Narracombe come o' gipsy stock. But that's tellin'. They'm a wonderful people, yu know, for claimin' their own. Maybe they knu 'e was goin', and sent this feller along for company.
His paper was a much-crumpled piece that he had found that morning in the wastebasket, and as yet his writing and spelling were poor enough, but he knew what he wanted to express, and this is what he wrote: DEAR BISHOP: I hav ben mene and bad i am not def and dum but i acted like i was caus I thot you wood not kepe me if yu knu I am sory now so i am going away but i am going to kepe strate and not bee bad any more ever.
Pretty maid an' gude maid she was, though they wouldn't burry 'er up to th' church, nor where she wanted to be burried neither." The old labourer paused, and put his hairy, twisted hand flat down on the turf beside the bluebells. "Yes?" said Ashurst. "In a manner of speakin'," the old man went on, "I think as 'twas a love-story though there's no one never knu for zartin.
She 'ad a lovin-'eart; I guess 'twas broken. But us never knu nothin'!" He looked up as if for approval of his story, but Ashurst had walked past him as if he were not there. Up on the top of the hill, beyond where he had spread the lunch, over, out of sight, he lay down on his face. So had his virtue been rewarded, and "the Cyprian," goddess of love, taken her revenge!
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