‘“Thoo’ll ken ‘Tom the scholar?’” I axes him—“him that’s a stoneman doon the pit, an’ gans in for spiritualism an’ sich like for his hobby an’ pastime?” “Ay,” he says, “I ken him nicely. Wey, I been at some ov his ‘seeantics,’ or whativvor it is he calls them, an’ I have the makin’ ov a fine ‘meejum,’” he says, “for I can parsonate folks ov aal kinds, males an’ females, wivoot any distinction o’ sexes.”
‘“Ay!” says I, interruptin’ him wiv a sort ov admirin’ surprise i’ my tone o’ voice, “can thoo, noo? Wey, thoo’s a clivvor one, that’s what thoo is.”
‘“Ay,” says he, quite enlarged at the thought, “an’ there’s some folk says that I isn’t quite right i’ the head, but they couldn’t parsonate Alexander the Great—him that the sword-dancers sing aboot—like as I can. Could they, noo?”
‘“No,” says I, “not they. They’re not scholars enough for that, an’ mevvies they would be gliffed at it as weel. Dis thoo nivvor get a gliff at the spirits?” I axes, careless like.
‘“Not while I’s parsonating, I divvn’t, but whiles when I’s doon the pit I gets a gliff,” says he; “it’s sae dark an’ lonesome i’ places.”
‘“Dis Tom ivvor try to make thoo parsonate doon i’ the pit?” I axes him, “for Tom, bein’ stoneman, ’ll come across thoo at times drivin’ yor galloway.”
‘“Ay, I’ve seen him doon below,” he says, “though he nivvor talked on aboot parsonating, but usuallies passes us by wivoot sayin’ nowt, for Tom’s a vary distant sort o’ chap, thoo knaas.”
‘“But sometimes mevvies he would speak wi’ thoo when he passed thoo, an’ other folks wasn’t aboot? Did he ivvor talk on aboot the spirits ti thoo at all? That day the galloway ran away, did he speak wi’ thoo that mornin’? Mevvies he did, laddie, an’ mevvies he told thoo not ti speak aboot it lest the spirits wouldn’t like it, or some such kind ov argument,” says I, insinuatin’ it tiv him like one o’ thae lawyer chaps iv a wig.
‘“Ay, he spoke tiv us that mornin’, sure enough, sayin’ as hoo he thought the spirits was vexed, for he had heard them callin’ i’ the pit itself through the darkness, an’ he wanted ti knaa whether I had heard the voices same as himself or not. Well, I hadn’t heard nowt, nor had nivvor thought aboot spirits bein’ doon the pit, but I gets a bit gliffed myself at that, an’ a bit later I ackshally heard them speakin’ aloud—sure an’ certain,” says he.
‘“Did they gliff thoo just before the galloway ran away an’ ran ower poor Jack Jefferson?” says I.