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Updated: June 22, 2025


"At lang length there was nobbut Sam Learoyd left. He was quieter nor t' others, but t' load o' sins about his heart was as tough as Whangby cheese. So me an' t' preacher gat on either side o' him an' we prayed an' better prayed, but all for nowt. So at last Sam got up off his knees, an' wi' a despert look on his face, says: 'Let me be. If I'm baan to find salvation I'll find it misen.

"'Throp, shoo said, 'we'll noan be through wi t' wark by midneet. "'Then we sal hae to give ower, said Throp. 'It'll be Sunday morn i' a quairter of an hour, an' I'm noan baan to work o' Sunday. "When Throp's wife heerd that shoo burst out a-roarin'. 'I'm an idle good-for-nowt, shoo said. 'Eh! but I mun finish t' bag; I mun, I mun.

'Well, lad, thaa's no need to be either unnatural nor blasphemous o'er th' job. What He wills, He wills, thaa knows; and if thaa willn't bend, thaa mun break. 'But I'll do noather, mother. Miriam's noan baan to dee yet, I con tell yo'. Just then Dr.

Penrose, that's whod I wur comin' to. I'm noan a fancy talker like yo'. Aw never larned to be, and I'm noan paid to be. Whod I wur baan to say, if you'll nobbud let me, wur this: As Jesus Christ wur a deal more particular who He leet in than who He kept aat. That's all. 'But who did He keep out? asked Dr. Hale. 'Haa mony, thinksto, did He leet in, doctor?

We's see her for th' fust time o' Sunday mornin'. Hoo's baan to sit wi' Dr. Hale. 'There'll be some een on her, aw bet, said Abraham. 'Wernd there, just. Poor lass! I could fair cry for her when aw think abaat it. An' away fro' her mother, an' o'. 'But then hoo'll hev her husband, wernd hoo? asked Milly.

"Why, yo doan't main that you chucked 'er?" "She wur too goody-goody for me," replied Tom. "I am noan baan to be a saint, I am going to enjoy mysen." "Weel, tha' won't be a saint if tha' has much to do with Polly Powell. She's noan a saint," and the lad laughed meaningly. "Still her feyther's got a bit of brass.

'No, aw hevn't, but aw'm a deal nearer nor aw wur when he first laft me. An' doesto know, lass, aw feel misel to be gettin' so near naa that aw can welly yer him singin'. There's nobbud a step or two naa, and then we's be i' th' same raam. 'An' is th' Almeety baan to mak' me climb as mony steps as thaa's climbed afore I ged into th' same raam as He's takken little Job too, thinksto? 'Ey, lass.

'Ey, lass, replied he, his manhood swept by emotion, 'o' sich is the kingdom o' heaven. And a gleam of firelight fell on the darkening wall, and lit up an old text which hung there, and they both read, 'Children are a heritage from God. 'An' arto baan to keep it a secret, lass? asked Matt, when once the spell of silence was broken.

Naa; I'd raither hev a meadow wi' posies, or th' moors when they're covered wi' yethbobs. If heaven's baan to be all streets, I'd as soon stop o' this side though they be paved wi' gowd an' o'. 'Listen yo', how hoo talks, Mr. Penrose. Hoo's awlus talked i' that feshion sin' hoo were a little un. Aar owd minister used to co her "God's child." Mr.

In a moment reputation and propriety were forgotten in what he felt were the claims of a mother's heart and the sufferings of an erring soul. 'Ay, Mr. Penrose, I'm some fain to see yo', cried the poor woman, as the minister walked up the garden-path. 'Amanda's baan fast, and hoo sez 'at it's all dark. And then, seizing Mr. Penrose's hand, she cried: 'Yo' durnd think hoo's damned, dun yo'?

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