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S'pose now that, without so much as a visitin' card, I nosed in on you with 'So that's your poor dear husban's portrait, that you nagged to his grave and a speakin' image of him too, afore he took to the drink as the better way An' what little lux'ries might you have cookin' in the apparatus, such as a barren woman might reas'nably afford?
" Whaw, there's a woman i'th next street at's gettin' four tickets fro th' relief folk, reggilar, an' her husban's addlin' thirty shillin' a week o' t' time, as a sinker he is for sure. Aw 'm noan tellin' yo a wort ov a lie. Aw consider sick wark as that's noan reet an' so mony folk clemmin' as there is i' Wigan."
"Zeke, he went," replied Cupid, "en Big Abel he wuz bleeged ter stay behint 'case his wife Saphiry she des put 'er foot right down. Ef'n he 'uz gwine off again, sez she, she 'uz des gwine tu'n right in en git mah'ed agin. She ain' so sho', nohow, dat two husban's ain' better'n one, is Saphiry, en she got 'mos' a min' ter try hit. So Big Abel he des stayed behint."
The comely little woman said that her husband was a weaver of "Cross-over;" and I suppose he would earn about six or seven shillings a week at that kind of work; but he had been long out of work. His wife said, "I've had to pop my husban's trousers an' waistcoat many a time to pay th' rent o' this house." She then began to talk about her first-born, and the theme was too much for her.
"But, Françoise, what made you leave?" "It is my husban's brudder. I not know what to do! He bring us to dese folks to stay all night till de cars go." "Why didn't he show himself to us, and take you like a man?" "Oh, M'sieu' Brownee he say de priest hexcommunicate me to live so in de camp!
But now listen toe yo' ole black mammy, whut knows a heap mo'n you does, an' who is a-talkin' toe you because you ain't got no real mammy o' yer own no mo'. You listen toe me. Now, I done had fo' husban's, me. Two o' them done died, an' one distapeart in the wah, an' one he turn out no 'count. Now, you s'pose I kain't love no otheh man?"
Eby night de Lord sen' dar's dancin' an' loffin' an' fiddlin'; an' efn er man raises 'im er few chickens an' watermillions, dey ain't safe no longer'n his back's turnt; an', let erlone dat, dar's quarlin' 'longer one nudder, an' dar's sassin' uv white folks an' ole pussuns, an' dar's drinkin' uv whiskey, an' dar's beatin' uv wives, an' dar's dev'lin' uv husban's, an' dar's imperrence uv chil'en, an' dar's makin' fun uv 'ligion, an' dar's singin' uv reel chunes, an' dar's slightin' uv wuck, an' dar's stayin' fum meetin', an' dar's swearin' an' cussin', an' dar's eby kin' er wickedness an' dev'lment loose in de land.
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