VII.
Measter Goddin used to zay as how childern costed a sight o' money to breng um up, but 'twas all very well whilst um was leetle, and zucked th' mother, but when um begun to zuck the vather, 'twas nation akkerd.
VIII.
Measter Cuss, and his zun Etherd, went to Lonnun a leetle time zence; and when um got to their journey's ind, Measter Cuss missed a girt passel a carr'd wi' un to th' cwoach. 'Lor', vather!' zays Etherd, 'I zeed un drap out at 'Vize!' (Devizes.)
IX.
When I was a young man I had a dog, a precious 'cute un a was too! A'd catch a hare like a grayhound. I've cot a scare o' rabbuts wi' him in one night. By and by zomebody zays to the kippur, thuck William's got a dog as plays th' devil wi' ael th' game. Zo th' kippur comes up to m' one day, and zays, zays he, 'Maester Little, thuck dog o' yourn's a bad un; a gwos huntin', I'm towld.' 'Lar bless'e!' zays I, 'a wou'dn't harm a mouse, that a wou'dn't.'—'Dwon't b'lieve it!' zays he. 'Come along wi' I by thuck copse yonder.'—Zo as us walked alang, up jumps a hare and away a scampers. 'Hollo! hollo!' zays I to the dog, but a slunk behind m' directly wi's tail between's legs. 'Ha!' zays th' kippur, 'I b'lieves 'e now, Little. Them as zays your dog hunts be liars, that's zartin. I'll be cussed if I dwon't thenk a's vrightened o' th' game, that I do!' and zo a walked away, and wished m' good marnin'.—'Zo, ho!' thought I; 'you be 'nation 'cute, you be, Maester Kippur. If instead o' "hollo!" I'd a cried "coom hedder!" a'd a run a'ter thuck hare like mad!'
[Note.—The point of this story is that the poacher's dog had been trained to understand the usual orders in exactly the opposite sense, as the Devonshire smugglers' horses were in old days. Thus, the more a smuggler called on his horse to stop, when he was challenged by an Excise officer, the faster it would gallop off, the owner all the while apparently endeavouring to check it but really urging it on. See Mrs. Bray's Description of Devon.]
X.
'How far d'e cal't to Zirencester, my friend?' zays a Cockney genelman one day to owld Pople, as a wor breakin' stwones on th' road. 'Dwont kneow zich a please,' zays he, scrattin's yead, 'never yeard on't avore!'—'What!' zays the genelman, 'never heard o' Zirencester?'—'Noa,' zays he, 'I aint.'—'Why, it's the next town.' 'Haw! haw!' zays Pople; 'you means Ziszeter; why didn't'e zay so? it's about vower mile off.'—He was a rum owld customer, thuck owld Pople. One day zomebody axed un how var't was to Ziszeter. 'Ho! dree miles this weather.' (It was nation dirty and slippy.) 'Why so?' zaid the man to'n; 'Ho, it's about two miles in vine weather; but when it's hocksey, like this, we allows a mile vor zlippin' back!'