I made some excuse for having smiled, and he went on.
"Gerzlehus' Ho' wur a very greyt place, yo may depend. It're mostly built o' heavy oak bauks.... There wur ir Jammy lad,[41] an' me, an' some moor on us—eh, we han carted some of a lot o' loads o' fine timber an' stuff off that spot, at time an' time! An' there's bin a deeol o' good flags, an' sich like, ta'en eawt o'th lond wheer th' heawse stoode; an' eawt o'th hollow below theer—there has so."
"How long is that since?" said I.
The old woman, who had been listening behind us, with her hands clasped under her apron, now stepped up, and said,
"Heaw lung sin? Why, it's aboon fifty year sin. He should know moor nor yo abeawt it, aw guess."
"Ay," said the old man, "aw've known this clod aboon fifty year, for sure. An' see yo," continued he, "there wur a shootin'-butts i' that hollow; sin aw can tell on. And upo' yon green," said he, turning round towards the north, and pointing off at the end of the building, "upo' yon green there stoode an owd sun-dial, i'th middle of a piece o' lond at's bin a chapel-yort, aforetime. They say'n there's graves theer yet. An' upo' that knowe, wheer th' new barn stons, there wur a place o' worship—so th' tale gwos."
It was clear that we had set him going on a favourite theme, and we must, therefore, bide the issue.
Turning his face to the west, he pointed towards a green eminence at a short distance, and said, "To this day they co'n yon hillock 'Th' Castle,' upo' keawnt on there once being a place theer where prisoners were confin't. An' that hee greawnd gwos bi'th name o'th 'Gallows Hill;' what for, I know not."
He then paused, and, pointing to a little hollow near the place where we stood, he slightly lowered his voice as he continued—"An' then, aw reckon yo see'n yon bend i'th lone, wheer th' ash tree stons?"
"Ay."