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Updated: May 31, 2025
But tears were streaming from Miriam's eyes, and she answered not. And then there dawned on the mind of Deborah the cause of her son's confusion, and a light stole across the hard lines of her face as she said: 'Is that it, lad? Thank God! thaa'rt in th' covenant after all. 'Naa, Matt, put on thi coite and fotch th' doctor, an tak' care thaa doesn't let th' grass grow under thi feet.
When he got into the house he threw it down with a crash that startled Sally, his wife. "There," he said, playfully pretending to be vexed, "I'll fetch thee na moor coils on my yead, so thaa needn't expect it." "What's matter wi' the' naa?" she said, looking at him. "I tell the' I'll fetch the' na maar coils," he responded, rubbing his scalp as if it hurt him.
There wur joy when thaa brought him into th' world, and theer's sorrow naa he's goan aat afore his time. Ey, dear! A mother's life's like an April morn sunleet and cloud, fleshes o' breetness, and showers o' rain. And closing her eyes, she, too, slept.
Quickly fastening them to his ears he listened. The sound was clear, sharp, and metallic, and vastly higher in pitch than a ship's call. It couldn't be the Lincoln. "By gum!" muttered Hood. "That fellow must have a twelve-thousand-metre wave length with fifty kilowatts behind it, sure! There ain't another station in the world but this can pick him up!" "NAA NAA NAA," came the call.
She laughed and he laughed, one at the other, till tears came from the eyes of both, and their poor sorrow-sick hearts seemed as if they would rise into their throats and choke them. "Naa, lass, what's matter with the'?" at length exclaimed Abe. "Why, it's thee made me laugh soa." "Me, what did I do?" "Ay, thaa may weel ask," said Sally, wiping her eyes with her apron.
'Do you ken who you had wi' you t' other night? 'Naa, but he was a pleesant shentleman. 'It was Tennyson, the poet. 'An' what may he be? 'Oh, he is the writer o' verses such as you see i' the papers. 'Noo, to think o' that, jest a pooblic writer, an' I gied him ma best bedroom! Of Mrs. Tennyson, however, the landlord remarked, 'Oh, but she was an angel!
He was in one of his sermons exhorting the people to watch against the devil, lest he should gain an entrance to their hearts and spoil the work of God. "Naa," said he, "I'll tell yo' some'at.
But He's put His love i' me, and naa owd Moses 'll never trouble ony on yo' ony more. Owd Moses lies i' Green Fold Lodge yonder, and he'll stop theer; it's time he wor done wi'. An' if you'll try me as God's baan to try me, aw think you'll happen larn to love me as I know I'm loved aboon.
Penrose declared he had no idea what old Enoch's criticisms on the members of the cloth were, but expressed a strong desire to be made familiar with them. 'Weel, continued Mrs. Ashworth, 'he sez as he never noather flatters parsons nor women, for noather on 'em con ston' it. Naa, then, what dun yo' mak' o' that? 'He's very wise. 'What saysto? 'I only mean as far as the parsons are concerned.
As weeks and months went by, the people of Berry Brow became used to the fact of Abe Lockwood's conversion, and it ceased to excite any particular remark, except such as might pass between neighbours on seeing him go by. "Aye, mun, what a change is in yon lad," one would say. "You are roight naa," would be the response.
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