Sam wod promise to be up directly, an he'd put a net into his coit pocket, an a two-o-three breead crumbs in a bit o' paper, an a rat, ommost as big as a kittlin, but withaat a tooith in its heead, into his inside brast pocket, an then he'd set off. When he gate thear all th' sarvent lasses ud cluther raand him an tell him whear th' rat had been seen an all particulars. "Well, they're a nasty thing to have abaat a haase, an a varry dangerous thing; but awl do mi best to catch it if yo'll give me a sup o' ale if yo have it, an if net, pooarter'll do. Aw want it to mix up summat to tice it aght." They seldom browt less nor a quairt, an after takkin abaat a thimbleful to mix up his breead crumbs, he swallow'd t'other for fear on it bein wasted. Then he'd tak a cannel an goa to whear th' rat had been last seen, an all th' lasses followin at a distance. After puttin his bait on th' floor an th' cannel ith far corner, he'd begin chirpin an huntin under th' barrels an all abaat to see if ther wor a rat, but as he seldom fan one, when he thowt he'd carried it on long enuff, he'd set up a gurt shaat, "It's here! it's here!" an pawse th' cannel ovver with his fooit, an as they couldn't tell where it might be they all flew off skrikin, leavin' Sam to quietly pool his "owd forrester," as he called him, aght ov his pocket an lap it up ith net an come aght holdin' it at arms' length. Then away went th' haasekeeper to tell th' mistress, an th' mistress to tell th' maister, an in a varry few minits ivverybody abaat th' place wor ith kitchen, standin in a ring wi Sam an th' rat ith middle. Sam wor a hero just then, but to luk at his face yo'd fancy he hadn't sense enuff to know it. Ov coorse ther wor nowt to gooid for Sam after that, an he'd allus as mich to ait an drink as he could tuck into him an a hauf-a-craan beside. Aw dooant know hah monny times he catched that rat, but aw do know 'at he catched it three times i' one haase, an he tell'd me he made as mich brass on it as monnya chap could mak wi a horse an cart. He'd a deeal more queer tricks, but as he gate older he gave it up, for he said it wor all vanity; an as he wanted to settle daan an leead a quiet life, he tuk a beershop, an nah he amuses hiss en an his customers wi sittin' at th' end oth langsettle an tellin' his experience, an if one hawf o' what he says is true, when he dees he owt to be put under a glass shade an stuck ith Halifax museum.
Owd Moorcock.
It's monny a long year sin what awm gooin to tell tuk place, but aw remember it as weel as if it wor yesterday. He wor a queer sooart ov a chap, wor owd Drake, an although some laft at him, an considered him an oddity, ther wor a gooid deeal moor 'at believed him to be a born genius. He wor a cobbler bi trade, an a varry gooid cobbler too, tho' he'd nivver sarved his time to it; an altho' he'd had two or three gooid chonces o' startin' business ith' taan, yet he allus shook his heead, an sed he'd rayther goa on as he wor a bit longer. Th' fact wor he loved his liberty, an he'd getten a noashun 'at if he left his little hooam i' th' country, he'd leeav his freedom wi it. An it's hardly to be wondered at, for his snug cot lukt th' pictur' o' comfort. It wor a one-stooary buildin' wi a straw thack, an all th' walls wor covered wi honeysuckle an' jessamine, an th' windows could hardly be seen for th' green leaves 'at hung as a veil i' th' front on 'em. Stooan-crop an haaseleek had takken up a hooam i' th' gutter, an th' chimley wor ommost hid wi ivy. It wor a queer-shaped place altogether—all nucks an corners—But it wor just what suited David. They called him David Drake, tho' he wor known best as Owd Moorcock. I' th' front wor a nice bit o' garden, allus kept trim, an seldom withaat a show o' bloom o' one sooart or another; an away to one side wor what he called his farm—a bit o' land abaat ten yards wide, an twenty long—whear he grew his cabbages an puttates an sich like; an all araand for miles wor moorland covered wi heather, an stockt wi game, except at th' back ov his cot, whear a bluff-lukkin hill sprang ommost straight up, makkin' a stranger feel afeeard lest it should tak a fancy to topple over an' bury booath th' cot an all in it. But if th' aghtside wor curious, th' inside wor a deal moor soa; an it wornt to be wondered at if a gooid monny fowk paid David a visit when they'd hauf a day to spare. He'd a wife—geniuses generally manage to get a wife if they get nowt else, an it isn't allus 'at they mak th' wisest choice; but David mud ha done war, for Dolly-o'-Dick's-o'-th'- Dike, as shoo wor called, wor as queer a customer as her husband, an if we're to believe what shoo says, if it hadn't ha been for her, Dave wod ha been a poor lost craytur. Shoo didn't appreciate his genius that's true, but wives as a rule niver do; but shoo let him have his own way, an sometimes, when her wark wor done, shoo'd even help him wi some of his fooilery. Aw'd heeard a gooid deal abaat 'em, soa one day aw detarmined aw'd pay 'em a visit, soa, after gettin' off at th' Copley Station, aw started to climb a rough, steep loin, moor like th' bed of a beck nor owt else, but trees o' awther side hung over wol they met at th' top, an made a cooil shade 'at wor varry welcome, for aw wor ommost sweltered. After a long scramel aw fan misen o Norland Moor—an it wor a seet worth tewing for, for th' heather wor i' bloom, an it lukt as if a purple carpet had been laid for th' buzzards an bees to frolic on; an ther wor sich a hum raand wol it saanded as if they wor playin' bass to th' skylarks 'at wor warblin' up aboon. Aw struck aght in as straight a line as aw could for David's, an havin come to th' garden gate, aw stopt a minnit to admire th' flaars 'at covered th' graand an th' walls, an even stretched far onto th' thack. Aw hadn't stood long when a voice claise to my ear sed—
"Might yo be lukkin' for somdy?"
"Are yo Mistress Drake?" aw axed.
"Eea, aw believe aw am; but what might yo be wantin'? If yo've owt to sell yo've comed to th' wrang shop, for brass is varry scarce here?"
"Aw've nobbut comed to see yor maister," aw sed; "is he in?"
"Nay, he isn't, an aw dooant know whear yo'll find him, for aw've niver met him yet; but if it's awr Dave yo meean, he's inside, soa yo can walk forrad, an if it's onny shoes yo want mendin', aw can see to that as weel as him, for he's reckonin' to be thrang this afternoon?"
"Aw've nobbut come to have a bit o' tawk," aw sed.