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"It's nah my child, lort abbut," replied the miller's wife, taking up the infant and bringing it to him; "it wur brought to me this varry neet by Ebil. Ey wish it wur far enough, ey'm sure, for it's a deformed little urchon. One o' its een is lower set than t' other; an t' reet looks up, while t' laft looks down."
'It's a vast o' comfort to think on yon poor lads as is sleepin' i' their own homes this neet, and then slumber fell upon him, and he was hardly roused by Bell's softly kissing his weather-beaten cheek, and saying low, 'God bless thee, my man! Thou was allays for them that was down and put upon.
Now, my son, ee comes in at neet all slamp and downcast, an I says to 'im, 'Is there noa news yet o' the Jint Committee, John? I ses to un. 'Noa, mither, ee says, 'they're just keepin ov it on. An ee do seem so down'earted when ee sees the poor soart ov a supper as is aw I can gie un to 'is stomach. Now, I'm wun o' thoase as wants nuthin.
Th' child would be fit to start eawt o'th heawse i'th deead time o'th neet a-seechin' mo, aw know he would! . . . Aw mun go, mon: God bless tho, Ann; aw'm obleeged to thee o' th' same. But, thae knows heaw it is. Aw mun goo!" Here the omnibus came up, and I rode back to Manchester.
'Aw dare say; that's what mi mother did to me on th' neet I come wom'. But mi mother's noan God, is hoo? 'No; but if you had had no God, you could not have had a mother. You tell me your mother kissed you. Did you not feel God's kiss in that which your mother gave you? The girl shook her head; the pastor needed to make his message more plain. 'It's in this way, you know, continued Mr. Penrose.
Next time they try it on, a reckon they'll ax if Daniel Robson is wi'in hearin'. A've led a resky this neet, and saved nine or ten honest chaps as was pressed, and carried off to t' Randyvowse. Me and some others did it. And Hobbs' things and t' lieutenant's is a' burnt; and by this time a reckon t' Randyvowse is pretty nigh four walls, ready for a parish-pound.
"Nay, 'twere better nor that," replied Abe. "I' t' spot wheer I'd buried t' pig an' buried t' potate afore that, somebody had belt a house, ay, an' belt it all i' one neet. It had sprung up like a mushroom. So I went up to t' house an' looked in at t' windey, an' by Gow! but it were my house an' all." "How did you know that it was your house?" I asked.
'An lasst time theer was na stannin ground for a corn-boggart; an I wudna miss ony o' Mr. Dyson's prayin, not for nothin. Good neet to yo, Davy. And Tom broke into a run; David, however, kept up with him. 'P'raps I'll coom too, he said, with a kind of bravado, when they had passed the bridge and the Kinder printing works, and Clough End was in sight.
She was the quaint product of the hills and of Calvinism, but shrewd withal, and of a kind heart. Indeed, the young minister had taken a strong liking to her, and frequently called at her far-away home. 'Ey, Mr. Penrose, whatever's brought yo aat a neet like this? she cried, as the preacher stood white as a ghost in the doorway of the farmstead. 'Come in and dry yorsel. 'Thank you, Mrs.
Then she turned to me and asked: "Has thou iver heerd tell o' ash-riddling?" "Of course I have," I replied. "Everybody knows what it is to riddle ashes." "Aye, but ash-riddling on the hearthstone, the neet afore St Mark's Day?" Here was something unfamiliar, and I readily confessed my ignorance.