My veyther now, he never 'oudden yeat none o' this here Hostilian meät nor nuthen o' that. I axed un one day why a 'oudden, and a zes, 'Do meak I shrill, the vurry sight on't do—they tells I as't do come vrom wur the War is, an' 'tes made o' souldiers a pretty deal on't. Wuver nobody shan't 'suade I to hae none on't.' And he 'oudden, bless 'ee! not if you was to gie un ever so!
Wull, my brother Jim, he kneowed this o' course, an' he do most in general ax veyther an' mother an' aal on us to come to zupper wi' he about Christmas time—he wur allus vurry good for anything o' that—an' laas' year aal on us had a zot down to zupper, an' ther wur a girt pie at Jim's end, an' Sarah her had a piece o' biled bif—ur wur 'twer mutton I caan't rightly mind—wuver dwon't meak no odds as I kneows on which twer—an' Jim he zes to veyther, 'Veyther, which be a gwain to hae, some o' this here pie ur some o' thick biled bif as Sally got down tother end?' An' veyther zes, 'What's the pie made on then?' An' Jim he zes, ''Tes mutton, yunnit, Sally?' 'Aw,' zes veyther, 'I wur allus ter'ble vond o' mutton pie, an' our Mary her never 'oon't gie I none on't at whoam.'
Zo veyther he had a plate vull on't, an' a begun a gettin' this yer pie into un at a terrible rate, an' when a done, Jim zes, 'What be gwain at now, veyther? Wull 'ee channge yer mind an' hae some o' tother?' 'No,' zes veyther, 'I'll hae some more o' thuck pie. I caals it oncommon good. I dwont knaw when I've a teasted anythen as I likes better'n thuck pie.' An' a did jist about enjoy hesself, bless 'ee, awver's zupper.
An' when a done, Jim zes, 'Veyther,' a zes, 'Do 'ee kneow what thuck pie wur made on?' 'Noa,' zes veyther, 'I dwont, any more'n you zed as 'twer meäd o' mutton, didden 'ee? Let it be whatever 'twill, 'twer uncommon good.'
An' Jim he looks at un zart o' comical, an' a zes, 'Veyther, 'twer meäd o' some o' thuck Hostilian meat as you zed as nobody shudden 'suade 'ee to yeat none on!'
An' zimmin to I veyther's feace turned zart o' aal colours, and a zes, 'Lawk a massey! dwon 'ee tell I that, ur I shall drow't aal up agean!' An' none on us dursen zaay no more to un, a look'd so guly, we was aveard as he 'ood.
But aater 'bout a haaf an hour Jim he zes, 'Veyther, an' how d'ee feel now?' An' veyther zes, 'Aw, 'tes better now,' but a zes, 'I thenk,' a zes, 'as this here is a gwoin' rayther too fur wi' a veyther!'
E. H. G.
[NOTHEN AS I LIKES WUSSER.]
[North Wilts: Clyffe Pypard.]