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But you love Edith; and her own true
Are traitors to her; our quick Evelyn Fur 'staäte be i' taäil, my lass: tha dosn'
knaw what that be?
Is yet untouch'd: and I that hold them both
Dearest of all things-well, I am not
But if there lie a preference either way,
THE VILLAGE WIFE; OR, THE
'OUSE-KEEPER sent tha my lass, fur New
Butter I warrants be prime, an' I war-
Sit thysen down fur a bit: hev a glass o' cowslip wine!
I liked the owd Squire an' 'is gells as thaw they was gells o' mine,
Fur then we was all es one, the Squire an' 'is darters an' me,
Hall but Miss Annie, the heldest, I niver not took to she:
But Nelly, the last of the cletch,2 I liked 'er the fust on 'em all,
Fur hoffens we talkt o' my darter es died o' the fever at fall:
An' I thowt 'twur the will o' the Lord, but
1 See note to Northern Cobbler.'
But I knaws the law, I does, for the law-
'When theer's naw 'ead to a 'Ouse by
Not es I cares fur to hear ony harm, but
An' I 'oäps es 'e beänt booöklarn'd: but 'e dosn' not coom fro' the shere; We'd anew o' that wi' the Squire, an' we haätes booöklarnin' 'ere.
Fur Squire wur a Varsity scholard, an' niver lookt arter the land
Whoäts or tonups or taätes - 'e 'ed hallus a booök i' 'is 'and,
Hallus aloän wi' 'is booōks, thaw nigh
upo' seventy year.
An' boooks, what's boooks? thou knaws thebbe naither 'ere nor theer.
An' the gells, they hedn't naw taäils, an'
'Drat the trees,' says I, to be sewer I haätes 'em, my lass,
Fur we puts the muck o' the land an' they sucks the muck fro' the grass.
An' Squire wur hallus a-smilin', an' gied
An' ivry darter o' Squire's hed her awn ridin-erse to 'ersen,
An' they rampaged about wi' their grooms, an' was 'untin' arter the men, An' hallus a-dallackt an' dizen'd out, an' a-buyin' new cloäthes, While 'e sit like a greät glimmer-gowk 2 wi' 'is glasses athurt 'is noäse, An' 'is noäse sa grufted wi' snuff es it couldn't be scroob'd awaäy, Fur atween 'is readin' an' writin' 'e snifft up a box in a daäy,
An' 'e niver runn'd arter the fox, nor arter the birds wi' 'is gun,
An' 'e niver not shot one 'are, but 'e
For 'e warn't not burn to the land, an' 'e didn't take kind to it like;
But I 'eärs es 'e'd gie fur a howry 3 owd book thutty pound an' moor, An' 'e'd wrote an owd book, 'is awn sen, sa I knaw'd es 'e'd coom to be poor; An' 'e gied-I be fear'd fur to tell tha 'ow much - fur an owd scratted stoän, An' 'e digg'd up a loomp i' the land an' 'e got a brown pot an' a boän, An' 'e bowt owd money, es wouldn't goä, wi' good gowd o' the Queen, An' 'e bowt little statutes all-naäkt an' which was a shaäme to be seen; But 'e niver looökt ower a bill, nor 'e niver not seed to owt,
Hoänly Miss Annie were saw stuck oop, like 'er mother afoor
'Er an' 'er blessed darter- they niver derken'd my door.
An' Squire 'e smiled an' 'e smiled till 'e'd gotten a fright at last, An' 'e calls fur 'is son, fur the 'turney's letters they foller'd sa fast; But Squire wur afear'd o' 'is son, an' 'e says to 'im, meek as a mouse, 'Lad, thou mun cut off thy taäil, or the gells 'ull goä to the 'Ouse,
Fur I finds es I be that i' debt, es I 'oäps es thou'll 'elp me a bit, An' if thou'll 'gree to cut off thy taäil I may saäve mysen yit.'
Thou's coom'd oop by the beck; and a thurn be a-grawin' theer,
I niver ha' see'd it sa white wi' the Maäy es I see'd it to-year — Theerabouts Charlie joompt — and it gied me a scare tother night, Fur I thowt it wur Charlie's ghoäst i' the derk, fur it looökt sa white. 'Billy,' says 'e, 'hev a joomp!' - thaw the banks o' the beck be sa high, Fur 'e ca'd 'is 'erse Billy-rough-un, thaw niver a hair wur awry;
But Billy fell bakkuds o' Charlie, an' Charlie 'e brok 'is neck,
Sa theer wur a hend o' the taäil, fur 'e lost 'is taäil i' the beck.
Sa 'is taäil wur lost an' 'is booöks wur gone an' 'is boy wur deäd, An' Squire 'e smiled, an 'e smiled, but 'e niver not lift oop 'is 'eäd: Hallus a soft un Squire! an' 'e smiled, fur 'e hedn't naw friend, Sa feyther an' son was buried togither, an' this wur the hend.
An' Parson es hesn't the call, nor the mooney, but hes the pride,
'E reäds of a sewer an' sartan 'oap o' the tother side;
But I beänt that sewer es the Lord, howsiver they praäy'd an' praäy'd, Lets them inter 'eaven eäsy es leäves their debts to be paäid. Siver the mou'ds rattled down upo' poor owd Squire i' the wood, An' I cried along wi' the gells, fur they weänt niver coom to naw good.
Fur Molly the long un she walkt awaäy wi' a hofficer lad,
An' nawbody 'eärd on 'er sin, sa o' coorse she be gone to the bad!
An' Lucy wur laäme o' one leg, sweet'arts she niver 'ed noneStraänge an' unheppen1 Miss Lucy! we naämed her Dot an' gaw one!'
1 Ungainly, awkward.
An' Hetty wur weak i' the hattics, wi'out ony harm i' the legs,
An' the fever 'ed baäked Jinny's 'eäd es bald es one o' them heggs,
An' Nelly wur up fro' the craädle es big i' the mouth es a cow,
An' saw she mun hammergrate,1 lass, or she weänt git a maäte onyhow! An' es for Miss Annie es call'd me afoor my awn foälks to my faäce
'A hignorant village wife as 'ud hev to be larn'd 'er awn plaäce,' Hes fur Miss Hannie the heldest hes now be a-grawin' sa howd,
I knaws that mooch o' sheä, es it beant not fit to be towd!
Sa I didn't not taäke it kindly ov owd Miss Annie to saäy
Es I should be talkin' ageän 'em, es soon es they went awaäy,
Fur, lawks! 'ow I cried when they went an' our Nelly she gied me 'er 'and, Fur I'd ha' done owt for the Squire an' 'is gells es belong'd to the land; Booöks, es I said afoor, thebbe neyther 'ere nor theer!
But I sarved 'em wi' butter an' heggs fur huppuds o' twenty year.
An' they hallus paäid what I hax'd, sa I hallus deal'd wi' the Hall,
An' they knaw'd what butter wur, an' they knaw'd what a hegg wur an' all; Hugger-mugger they lived, but they wasn't that easy to please, Till I gied 'em Hinjian curn, an' they laäid big heggs es tha seeäs; An' I niver puts saäme 2 i' my butter, they does it at Willis's farm, Taäste another drop o' the wine-tweän: do tha naw harm.
Sa I han't clapt eyes on 'im yit, fur he coom'd last night sa laäte Pluksh!!! the hens i' the peas! why didn't tha hesp the gaäte?
IN THE CHILDREN'S
OUR doctor had call'd in another, I never had seen him before,
But he sent a chill to my heart when I saw him come in at the door, Fresh from the surgery-schools of France and of other landsHarsh red hair, big voice, big chest, big merciless hands! Wonderful cures he had done, O yes, but they said too of him He was happier using the knife than in trying to save the limb, And that I can well believe, for he look'd so coarse and so red,
I could think he was one of those who would break their jests on the dead, And mangle the living dog that had loved him and fawn'd at his kneeDrench'd with the hellish ooraliever such things should be!
Here was a boy - I am sure that some of our children would die
But for the voice of Love, and the smile, and the comforting eyeHere was a boy in the ward, every bone seem'd out of its place — Caught in a mill and crush'd it was all
but a hopeless case: And he handled him gently enough; but his voice and his face were not kind, And it was but a hopeless case, he had seen it and made up his mind, And he said to me roughly The lad will need little more of your care.' All the more need,' I told him, 'to seek the Lord Jesus in prayer;
1 A cry accompanied by a clapping of hands to scare trespassing fowl.
Hers was the gratefullest heart I have found in a child of her years— Nay, you remember our Emmie; you used to send her the flowers;
How she would smile at 'em, play with 'em, talk to 'em hours after hours! They that can wander at will where the works of the Lord are reveal'd
Little guess what joy can be got from a cowslip out of the field; Flowers to these 'spirits in prison' are all they can know of the spring, They freshen and sweeten the wards like the waft of an Angel's wing; And she lay with a flower in one hand and her thin hands crost on her breastWan, but as pretty as heart can desire, and we thought her at rest, Quietly sleeping-so quiet, our doctor said Poor little dear, Nurse, I must do it to-morrow; she'll never live thro' it, I fear.'
I walk'd with our kindly old doctor as far as the head of the stair, Then I return'd to the ward; the child didn't see I was there.
Never since I was nurse, had I been so grieved and so vext!
Emmie had heard him. Softly she call'd from her cot to the next,
'He says I shall never live thro' it, O Annie, what shall I do?' Annie consider'd. If I,' said the wise little Annie,' was you,
I should cry to the dear Lord Jesus to help me, for, Emmie, you see, It's all in the picture there : "Little children should come to me."' (Meaning the print that you gave us, I find that it always can please Our children, the dear Lord Jesus with children about his knees.)
'Yes, and I will,' said Emmie, but then if I call to the Lord,
How should he know that it's me? such a lot of beds in the ward!'