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Updated: May 24, 2025
T' sky had bin owercussen wi' hen-scrattins an' filly-tails, but when they gat to t' dub t' wind had skifted 'em, an' t' mooin were shinin' ower Pendle Hill way an' leetin' up t' trees and makkin' t' watter glisten like silver. Lile Doed were that fain he started clappin' his hands an' well-nigh forgat all about Melsh Dick an' t' squirrel.
"Man, I've thocht o' makkin' up to Bell mysel'," said Pete Ogle. "Wid there be ony chance, think ye, Sam'l?" "I'm thinkin' she widna hae ye for her first, Pete," replied Sam'l, in one of those happy flashes that come to some men, "but there's nae sayin' but what she micht tak' ye to finish up wi'." The unexpectedness of this sally startled every one.
My twa-year-auld bairn was standin' aboot the door, an' I was makkin' some porridge for my man's supper when I heard the bairny skirlin'. She came runnin' in to the hoose an' hung i' my wrapper, an' she was hingin' there, when I gaed to the door to see what was wrang. "It was the man I'd seen passin' the hoose.
I reckon if onybody was to ax to wed you, Miss Heptonstall, he'd be a steady-goin' sort o' fellow as wouldn't be up to they mak' o' games." Margaret smiled outright. Ted thought he would follow up his advantage and clinch the point at once. "Now, Miss Heptonstall," said he, "for instance, if I was to coom coortin' ye, I wouldn't be thinkin' of onything but makkin' ye coomfortable.
Tha mun mesh up a bit o' white o' egg wi' his linseed; there's nowt like white o' egg for makkin' linnets sing " Once again Annie broke in upon the perusal of the letter. "Eh! but t' lad's fair daft. All he thinks on is fooitball an' linnit matches. White o' egg for linnits, is it! I'd have him know that eggs cost brass nah-a-days.
'Howd on a bit, said Amos, still holding the minister by the lapel of his coat. 'Naa listen to me. If I were yo' I wouldn't go. Th' lass hes made her bed; let her lie on't. Durnd yo' risk yor repetation by makkin' it yasier, or by takkin' ony o' th' thorns aat o' her pillow.
''E's got th' monkey on 'is back ower this letter job, said the father secretly to me. 'Mother, 'er knows nowt about it. Lot o' tom-foolery, isn't it? Ay! What's good o' makkin' a peck o' trouble over what's far enough off, an' ned niver come no nigher. No not a smite o' use. That's what I tell 'er. 'Er should ta'e no notice on't. Ty, what can y' expect.
She put in her hand, an' pu'd it oot. That's what's makkin' her look sae ill." "But what was it she found?" "Did I no tell ye? I'm ga'en dottle, I think. It was a glove, a woman's glove, in a bit paper. Ay, though she's sittin' still she's near frantic." I said I supposed Jess had put the glove back in Jamie's pocket. "Na," said Leeby, "'deed no.
Jerry nivver liked Ben, and he said to me, 'Well, dame, it's a great pity that last o' t' Cravens should swing himsen to death on t' gallows. But I told him, 'Don't thee be so sure that Ben's t' last o' t' Cravens: Thou's makkin' thy count without Providence, Jerry; and I'm none feared," she added, with a burst of confidence; "I'll trust in God yet! I can't see him, but I can feel him."
For two seconds the square shakes to an invasion of dogs, and then again there is only one dog in sight. No one will admit the Scotch mist. It "looks saft." The tinsmith "wudna wonder but what it was makkin' for rain." Tammas Haggart and Pete Lunan dander into sight bareheaded, and have to stretch out their hands to discover what the weather is like.
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