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“ Wheer at ?” “Th' Seven Stars." “ Bi th' maskins, I know him,—to a yure!” “ Who is it?”

“ It's Tummy o' Galker's, 'at played Bowd Slasher when we went a-pace-eggin' last

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“Thou's hit it! What's he after, thinksto?"

“ He's off to th’ ‘Hirin's,' like a hunted red-shank."

“Why; has he laft th' owd shop?” “Ay; bi th' ounters; an' I wonder 'at he's

; stopt as lung as he has. Owd Mall's bad to bide,-for hoo's as cammed as a crushed whisket.”

“ Hoo's a nattle, ill - contrive't, camplin’ fuzzock,-if ever there wur one."

"Bill, thou'rt in a terrible way for co'in' folk to-day."

Well, I connot bide her, mon; hoo'll do no reet, nor hoo'll tay no wrang; an' hoo's no feelin' for nobry nobbut hersel'; an' that's th' top an' tail on't. . . . But Tummy use't to match her meeterly weel. . . . One day Owd Sam an' Tummy wur busy wortchin' i'th' garden; and Sam had getten a lung ladder rear't again th' gable-end oth' house; an' he wur gooin' up a-doin' summat at th' spout, when in comes Mall to th' garden, gosterin', an' hectorin', an' yeawlin' up an'

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down, reet and lift, th' same as usual. Come down that ladder this minute, doesto yer!' cried hoo; come down, I tell tho—thou gawmless leather-yed,-for thou hasn't catwit! Doesto know that ladder's as rotten as a brunt rag? Thou'll breighk thi neck! Come down, I tell tho,-an' send Tummus up!' Noan so, Mally,' said Tummus; 'noan so! I've a neck as weel as yor Sam,-an' mine's worth more brass to me nor yor Sam's is. If it's noan fit for him, it's noan fit for me. If yo'n goo up, I'll howd th' ladder for yo; but I'm beawn to stop o' th' floor, this time-if yo pleasen.

“Well done, Tummy; he just sarve't her reet!”

Oh, Tummus wur too mony for her. Hoo couldn't bant him at o'. Never a day passed but they'd a bit of a scog o' some mak. One day, when th' rain wur peltin' down, at full bat, i' gill drops, Tummy coom runnin' into th' kitchen, out o'th' garden, sipein' weet; an' he began a-shakin' th' rain off him. Well, -owd Mall wur helpin' th' sarvant wi' summat, an' as soon as Tummy coom in, hoo lays howd of a greight tin can 'at stood upo' th' sink stone, as hoo says, 'Here, Tummus, —thou art weet, an' thou con nobbut be weet,fotch us a can-full o' soft wayter fro' th' well, yon.' Th' well wur about a quarter of a miie


off. Well,—Tummy wur noan so weel suited wi' that, thou may depend, so he looked at

-her for a minute, an' then he said, 'Here, gi’ me howd o' that can !' an' away he went for th’ wayter, through th' heavy rain. In a bit he comes in again, weeter than ever,—wi' th' can on his yed,-an' he said, "Now then, Mally, wheer are yo?' 'Here, Tummus,' said Mally; 'set it down upo' th' sink. But i'sted o' settin' it upo' th' sink he tipt th' whole can-ful o' wayter slap onto owd Mall; an' flingin' th' can upo' th floor, he said, Now then,—thou art weet, an' thou con nobbut be weet,-fot th' next for thiseľ !'

“Well done, Tummy! Bi th' ounters, he just sarve't her reet. Hoo wants sleckin' a bit--for hoo's a prodigal pouse."

“Oh, th' owd lad could fit her up nicely, when he're reet side out. Th' first time I let on him, at after he'd gan th' owd lass sich a swilkin', I took him into th' 'Seven Stars,' and I said, “Here, Tummy; co' for aught there is i' this house, an' thou's have it, for what thou did at owd Mall !' .. He's noan so breet i' some things, noather. I remember him an' me gooin' to Southport,-an' it wur o'new to him, for it wur th' first time 'at ever he'd sin th' say. Well, thou knows, when th' tide gwos out at Southport, yo' can hardly see th' sautwayter, it's so fur off th' town. Well,


one day, when Tummy an' me were walkin' bi th’ shore, we coom to some fishin'-boats, 'at were last dry upo' th' sond. Well,Tummy looked at these boats a bit, an' then he said to a chap 'at wur gooin' past, ‘Maister, how done they get these boats down to thwayter ?'

An'th' chap said, "They dunnot tak 'em down to th' wayter,—th' wayter comes a fottin' (fetching) 'em!'

Here, here,' said Tummy, 'thou munnot tell me that tale,-I COME FRO' OWDHAM!'”


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“ I don't know how yo' feel,
But I feel quite queer.”



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[Two friends, on 'Change.] NYTHING new this morning ?”


“No more fires ?” “Not yet.” “Trade must be mending, then.”

“Oh, wait till the 'Evening News' comes out.”

“What was that wild burst of merriment about as I came in?” “A railway accident,—that's all.”

Oh,—that's all,' eh ? Ay, — well, "There's olez a summat to keep one's spirits up!' as Kempy said when he roll't off th' kitchen slate into th' duck-poand. But, I

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