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Why dost not speak?" "Why should I confess, sir," says Sophia, "since it seems you are so well acquainted with my thoughts?" "That's a good girl," cries he, "and dost consent then?" "No, indeed, sir," says Sophia, "I have given no such consent." "And wunt not ha un then to-morrow, nor next day?" says Western. "Indeed, sir," says she, "I have no such intention."
You will want to turn to "Lowell's Poetical Works" and read the whole piece. There is a story that Mr. Robinson couldn't go anywhere after this poem was published without hearing some one humming or reciting, Fer John P. Robinson he Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B.
'I wor over to Exeford in the morning, John began from the chimney-corner, looking straight at Annie; 'for to zee a little calve, Jan, as us cuddn't get thee to lave houze about. Meesus have got a quare vancy vor un, from wutt her have heer'd of the brade. Now zit quite, wull 'e Miss Luzzie, or a 'wunt goo on no vurder. Vaine little tayl I'll tull' ee, if so be thee zits quite.
But I can't find it in my heart to be hard on a fine girl like you. It's bred in the bone, and it wunt come out of the flesh. More shame for me, I tell you again more shame for me!" The proposal thus strangely and suddenly presented to her took Magdalen completely by surprise.
Veale, although sadly bemused, at once said that he could refuse nothing to the wife of his preserver. "Oh, lor-a-mussy, yes, mum, you may 'aave my little Norrer an' do what you like wi' her. Bless her heart, I look on Norrer and her brothers to be the comfort o' my old age, but I wunt stan' in their light to interfere wi' what's best for any of 'em."
And he wunt buy th' Farm, nether. Shutters is all shut up at the Hall. He'll go burying about Wednesday. Men that drinks don't keep." Rhoda struck at her brain to think in what way this death could work and show like a punishment of the heavens upon that one wrong-doer; but it was not manifest as a flame of wrath, and she laid herself open to the peace of the fields and the hedgeways stepping by.
A few days later a begrimed envelope addressed in pencil was brought to the door by the postman. Michael with sinking heart opened it. It read: "MiKY ef yo be reely hym cum to KelLys karner at 10 tumoroW nite. Ef you are mIK youz thee old whissel an doante bring no une wit yer Ef yO du I wunt be thar.
I bain't no good at jumping and I wunt." They urged her gently but firmly towards the window. "You lemme do it my own way," said the old lady at the sill.... "I could do it better if e'd take it off." "Oh! carm on!" "It's wuss than Carter's stile," she said, "before they mended it. With a cow a-looking at you." Mr. Gambell hovered protectingly below. Mr. Polly steered her aged limbs from above.
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