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Updated: May 13, 2025
No, I'll stick to my side; and if we be in the wrong, so be it: I'll fall with the fallen!" "Well said very well said." observed Joseph. "However, folks, I must be moving now: upon my life I must. Pa'son Thirdly will be waiting at the church gates, and there's the woman a-biding outside in the waggon." "Joseph Poorgrass, don't be so miserable! Pa'son Thirdly won't mind.
Dick, that thou beest a white-lyvered chap I don't say, but if thou beestn't as mad as a cappel-faced bull, let me smile no more." "O, ay." "And what's think now, Dick?" "I don't know." "Here's another pretty kettle o' fish for thee. Who d'ye think's the bitter weed in our being turned out? Did our party tell 'ee?" "No. Why, Pa'son Maybold, I suppose."
They sank lower and lower. 'Endelstow Vicarage is inside here, continued the man with the reins. 'This part about here is West Endelstow; Lord Luxellian's is East Endelstow, and has a church to itself. Pa'son Swancourt is the pa'son of both, and bobs backward and forward. Ah, well! 'tis a funny world. 'A b'lieve there was once a quarry where this house stands.
'Theirs was a queerer experience of a pa'son and clerk than some folks get, and may cheer 'ee up a little after this dampness that's been flung over yer soul. The returned one replied that he knew nothing of the history, and should be happy to hear it, quite recollecting the personality of the man Satchel.
"Well, well," resumed Old Zeb, "we all have our random intervals, and a drop o' cider in the mouthpieces is no less than Pa'son looks for, Chris'mas mornin's." "Trew, trew as proverbs." "Howsever, 'twas cruel bad, that last psa'm, I won't gainsay. As for that long-legged boy o' mine, I keep silence, yea, even from hard words, considerin' what's to come.
Lackland, I suppose, what a rum start that was between Andrey Satchel and Jane Vallens and the pa'son and clerk o' Scrimpton? said the master-thatcher, a man with a spark of subdued liveliness in his eye, who had hitherto kept his attention mainly upon small objects a long way ahead, as he sat in front of the van with his feet outside.
He then fancied he heard footsteps in the hall, and sundry movements of the door-knob, but nobody appeared. 'Perhaps they beant at home, sighed the driver. 'And I promised myself a bit of supper in Pa'son Swancourt's kitchen. Sich lovely mate-pize and figged keakes, and cider, and drops o' cordial that they do keep here! 'All right, naibours!
"I should like to inquire what makes you so certain, Mary Oldfield," asked her mother, with the natural irritation of the unprepared. "I should like to know how father's got hold of things pa'son and doctor ain't neither of 'em heard of?" "Why," said the minister, rising, "he's simply crammed with town legends. He can repeat them by the yard. He's a local historian.
An' ole Pa'son Tyson war goin' by in his gig, an' he tuk note o' the finger o' scorn, an' he stopped. He said mighty leetle, but he tuk the trouble ter cut a stout hickory sprout, an' he gin 'Fambly' a good thrashin' all roun'. It lasted 'Fambly' well. They ain't laffed at 'God's pore' sence! Waal, 'Fambly' 's takin' up too much o' this enlightened assembly's attention.
"If anything has happened to her up in that there tower, and no doctor or nuss " " 'twill be a quarter-sessions matter for us, not to speak of the disgrace to the Church!" "Good God, clerk, don't drive me wild!" says the pa'son. "Why the hell didn't I marry 'em, drunk or sober!" "Not I, sir! It only came into my head a moment ago, and I always like to be second to you in church matters.
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