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"Don't I? I've got a heart yet, Hallam, though thou'd happen think I've varry little use for it at eighty-nine years old; but I'll tell thee what, instead o' looking at t' troubles thou hes, just tak' a look at them thou hesn't. I nivver gave thee a bit o' advice better worth seven-and-sixpence than that is." "What does ta mean?" "I'll tell thee.

Who else should it be, thinksto? 'Nay, I knew it were noabry but thee; but one mun say summat, thaa knows. What arto doin' at th' winder? Has th' hens getten in th' garden agen? 'Nowe, not as aw con see. 'Then what arto lookin' at? 'I'm nobbud lookin' aat a bit. It's a bonny seet and o', I can tell thee. 'Thaa's sin' it mony a time afore, lad, hesn't ta? Is there aught fresh abaat it?

"Martha! How could you bear it?" "I didn't think what I wer' bearing at t' time, Miss Hallam; I wer' just angry enough for any thing; and I wer' kind o' angry wi' Ben takkin' it so quiet like. 'Speak up for thysen, lad, I said; 'hesn't ta got a tongue i' thy head to-neet?" "Poor Ben! What did he say?" "He said, 'Thou be still, mother, and talk to none but God.

"I'd think no wrong if I was thee, Lydia Swale. Thou hesn't any warrant for thinking wrong but what thou gives thysen, and thou be neither judge nor jury," said an old woman, making Devonshire cream. "In white from top to toe," Lydia continued, "even her belt was of white satin ribbon, and she put a white rose in her hair, too. It caps me. It's a queer dooment."

The roads are varra drewvy after the snow," he added, stamping the clods from his boots. Then looking about, "Hesn't our Liza been here to-neet?" "Not yet," Rotha answered. "Whearaway is t' lass? I thought she was for slipping off to Shoulth'et. But then she's olas gitten her best bib and tucker on nowadays."

"Ay, that's the way they gooes sometimes," said Dave, sending on the boat. "Put the band in the basket, lads. Better luck next time." "Why, the line's broken!" cried Dick, handing it to its owner. "Sawed off agen his teeth," said Dave, after a glance. "Theer, put 'em away, lad. He's theer waiting to be ketched again some day. Theer's another yonder. Nay, he hesn't moved."

"The pulpit? What do you mean?" "He was a Methodist preacher, but he left the pulpit and went into the schoolroom. The Conference was glad he did so, for he was little in the way of preaching but he's a great scholar, and I should say he hesn't his equal as a teacher in all England. He has the boys and girls of Hatton at a word.

Don't thee be cross with the poor lad. He hesn't found life very pleasant so far and now that a bit of pleasure comes into it, he's right to make the most of it." "All shall be as you wish, mother. Will you meet them tomorrow afternoon?" "Nay, I know better. Lucy will be worn out, dusty and hungry, and she'll thank nobody for bothering her, until she is rested. I'll go early next morning.

Eawr wenches are gettin' a day for t' sick, neaw and then, but that's all. There's a brother o' mine lives with us, he'd a been clemmed into th' grave but for th' relief; an' aw've been many a time an' hesn't put a bit i' my meawth fro mornin' to mornin' again. We've bin married twenty-four year; an' aw don't think at him an' me together has spent a shillin' i' drink all that time.

I don't know what that is," replied the youth. "He's from the country," said the colonel, compassionately, "an' hesn't hed the right schoolin'. P'r'aps," continued the colonel, "he'd enjoy the cockfight at the saloon to-night these country boys are pretty well up on roosters. Ask him, Tom."