XII.

Do you think I was scared by the bones? I kiss'd 'em, I buried 'em all

I can't dig deep, I am old—in the night by the churchyard wall.

My Willy 'ill rise up whole when the trumpet of judgment 'ill sound,

But I charge you never to say that I laid him in holy ground.

XIII.

They would scratch him up-they would hang him again on the cursed tree.

Sin? O yes-we are sinners, I know-let all that be, And read me a Bible verse of the Lord's good will toward men—

'Full of compassion and mercy, the Lord'-let me hear it again;

'Full of compassion and mercy-long-suffering.' Yes, O yes!

For the lawyer is born but to murder-the Saviour lives but to bless.

He'll never put on the black cap except for the worst

of the worst,

And the first may be last-I have heard it in church -and the last may be first.

Suffering-O long-suffering-yes, as the Lord must

know,

Year after year in the mist and the wind and the shower and the snow.

XIV.

Heard, have you? what? they have told you he never repented his sin.

How do they know it? are they his mother? are you of his kin?

Heard! have you ever heard, when the storm on the downs began,

The wind that 'ill wail like a child and the sea that

'ill moan like a man?

XV.

Election, Election and Reprobation-it's all very well. But I go to-night to my boy, and I shall not find him in Hell.

For I cared so much for my boy that the Lord has look'd into my care,

And He means me I'm sure to be happy with Willy, I know not where.

XVI.

And if he be lost-but to save my soul, that is all your desire :

Do you think that I care for my soul if my boy be

gone to the fire?

I have been with God in the dark-go, go, you may leave me alone

You never have borne a child—you are just as hard as a stone.

XVII.

Madam, I beg your pardon! I think that you mean to be kind,

But I cannot hear what you say for my Willy's voice in the wind

The snow and the sky so bright-he used but to call in the dark,

And he calls to me now from the church and not from

the gibbet-for hark!

Nay-you can hear it yourself—it is coming-shaking the walls

Willy the moon's in a cloud-Good-night. I am going. He calls.

THE NORTHERN COBBLER.

I.

WAÄIT till our Sally cooms in, fur thou mun a' sights1

to tell.

Eh, but I be maäin glad to seeä tha sa 'arty an' well. 'Cast awaäy on a disolut land wi' a vartical soon 2!' Strange fur to goä fur to think what saäilors a' seëan an' a' doon;

'Summat to drink-sa' 'ot?' I 'a nowt but Adam's

wine :

What's the 'eät o' this little 'ill-side to the 'eät o' the line?

II.

'What's i' tha bottle a-stanning theer?' I'll tell tha. Gin.

1 The vowels aï, pronounced separately though in the closest conjunction, best render the sound of the long i and y in this dialect. But since such words as craïin', daïin', whaï, aï (I), etc., look awkward except in a page of express phonetics, I have thought it better to leave the simple i and y, and to trust that my readers will give them the broader pronunciation. 2 The oo short, as in 'wood.'

But if thou wants thy grog, tha mun goä fur it down to the inn.

Naay-fur I be maäin-glad, but thaw tha was iver sa

dry,

Thou gits naw gin fro' the bottle theer, an' I'll tell tha why.

III.

Meä an' thy sister was married, when wur it? back-end

o' June,

Ten year sin', and wa 'greed as well as a fiddle i'

tune:

I could fettle and clump owd booöts and shoes wi' the best on 'em all,

As fer as fro' Thursby thurn hup to Harmsby and Hutterby Hall.

We was busy as beeäs i' the bloom an' as 'appy as 'art could think,

An' then the babby wur burn, and then I taäkes to the drink.

IV.

An' I weänt gaäinsaäy it, my lad, thaw I be hafe shaämed on it now,

We could sing a good song at the Plow, we could sing

a good song at the Plow;