For years, old Sykes and Hobson, though neighbours, had been on unfriendly terms. Years back, Sykes had found on several occasions a certain gate thrown off its hinges. Whether he held any proof, history does not recount, but he blamed Hobson for doing it. Hobson, however, stoutly denied all knowledge of the affair. Anyway, for long they remained about as unfriendly as they well could; until one day, Hobson, at the risk of his life, rescued Sykes’ lad from drowning. On hearing of the rescue, Sykes hurried away to thank Hobson. They met in one of the latter’s fields. ‘Whya, noo then,’ began Sykes, ‘Ah’ve cum’d ti shak tha byv t’ han’; thoo’s saved my bairn, an’ Ah’s behodden ti tha foor awlus. Noo wa s’all ’a’e ti let bygones be bygones, an’ start afresh. Thoo knaws wa used ti hit it off all reet yance ower; noo, what diz ta saay?’ ‘Wha, mun, ther’s my hand on ’t, an’ Ah’s mair ’an glad ’at wa’ve hap’t t’ au’d sore up at last; an’ ez thoo sez, wa mun start afresh, just ez if nivver nowt ’ed cum’d atween uz’ So they shook hands, and talked farming for an hour or so, until it was time for Sykes to return. Shaking Hobson by the hand, he said, ‘Noo thoo knaws Ah s’all nivver be yabble ti mak it up ti tha for saving t’ lad, an’ Ah’s reet glad ’at Ah can gan yam an’ tell t’ missus ’at thee an’ me’s kind agaan, an’ Ah whoap ’at wa s’all awlus keep seea. Bud mahnd tha, Ah still ho’d ti ’t ’at it war thoo ’at flang t’ yat offen t’ creeaks,’ i.e. ‘But bear in mind, I still think it was you who flung the gate off the hinges.’
Old Hall, a well-known character in one of our dales, was the doctor for miles round, and proud was the village wherein he actually resided. He was more than doctor, he was the vet. as well; he read the lessons in church; in fact, he was the father of the village. He was consulted, and his advice acted upon in all things which are incident to a village community. And then he died, and a new doctor took his place—top hat, frock-coat, and everything. Some little time after his arrival, Wilson’s cow died, and the death of the said cow was fully discussed the day following, in the blacksmith’s shop. ‘What did ta gi’e it?’ asked one. ‘Nowt. Hoo mud Ah knaw what ti git for ’t?’ ‘Did ta gan for t’ doctor?’ asked another. ‘Aye, an’ he war neean sae setten up, at being fetched oot o’ bed i’ t’ middle o’ t’ neet.’ ‘Warn’t he! What did he saay?’ ‘He tell’d ma ’at he warn’t a coo doctor, an’ knew nowt aboot ’em.’ ‘Did he saay that?’ asked the smith slowly, resting on his hammer, as he waited for an answer. ‘Aye, an’ he tell’d ma ti gan yam an’ nivver wakken him up na mair on sike an earand,’ ‘Wha, then,’ said the smith very deliberately, ‘he’s nut a Hall! an’ he mud just ez weel teeam his stuff oot, an’ quit his bottles foor au’d glass. Foor Ah meean ti saay ’at a chap ’at dizn’t knaw nowt aboot t’ innards’ (the inside) ‘of a coo, an’ hosses, an’ pigs, an’ sike leyke, isn’t gahin ti practis on onny ov uz, ’coz if he ’ezn’t gitten them off, he caan’t knaw nowt aboot oor innards, foor wa’re a seet mair intrickiter’ (intricate) ’na onny o’ t’ dumb critters. He’s nut a Hall, an’ he’s na ewse tiv uz.’ The oracle having spoken, it was agreed on all hands that it was so. And from that moment the influence of that man as a doctor ceased.
Here is another, which brings out a trait I purpose touching upon afterwards. Incidentally, I may mention, a bargain is a bargain, and must be maintained and carried out as originally agreed upon. The story, however, I give as an illustration of how hard it is to convince our people that their preconceived notion on any subject is wrong.
It was quite four miles from a certain house to the village, and as the gardener was often required to go thither for one thing or another, his master bought him a bicycle, thinking to make the journey easier for him. A few days after the machine had been presented, John said, ‘Noo, sir, Ah wanted ti ’ev a wo’d wi’ ya. Noo, when Ah cam, Ah cam for ti be t’ gardener, an’ ti deea onny odd jobs ’at wanted deeaing. Bud, ya knaw, Ah s’all want a bit mair a week if Ah’ve ti larn ti mannish yon thing’—jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the tool-house, where the byke was kept. ‘Ya knaw, sir, ther warn’t nivver nowt at no tahm owt sed aboot a bisittle, an’ Ah s’ want a bit mair afoor Ah tattle yon thing. Noo, hoo mich is ’t ti be?’ The master pointed out that it was for his (the gardener’s) own comfort, and to lighten the journey to and from the village, he had been induced to buy the bicycle. ‘Whya, noo, Ah deean’t knaw sae mich aboot that,’ said John; ‘it soonds weel eneeaf t’ waay ’at you put it; ther’s nowt aboot that, bud Ah’ve leeaked fother inti ’t ’an what yow ’ev. Noo, leeak here, it taks me nigh on ti tweea hoors an’ a hauf ti gan an’ cum walking; noo, hoo lang is ’t gahin ti tak ma ti deea ’t o’ yon thing?’ ‘When you get used to it, you will run there and back easily in an hour.’ ‘Oha, s’all Ah! Then that’ll be leyke an hoor an’ a hauf ti t’ good.’ ‘Yes, you will save quite that.’ ‘Then when Ah git back, s’all Ah ’a’e ti sit ma doon an’ deea nowt for t’ hoor an’ t’ hauf?’ ‘Sit down and do nothing! Certainly not; you will go on with your work.’ ‘Aye, Ah thowt seea; an’ that’s what maks ma saay ’at ya’ll ’a’e ti gi’e ma a larl bit mair, ez Ah’s gahin ti put sa monny mair hoors’ wark in i’ t’ week. Ya see, you reckon yah waay, an’ Ah reckon another, an’ Ah think Ah’s i’ t’ reet on ’t.’
Those who have given the slightest attention to the various traits which are so interesting in the character of our people, will not have failed to notice one which is very pronounced. I mean the objection they have to showing, and the cleverness they display in hiding, their ignorance on any matter. If in speaking to our country people you use a word which they do not understand, they never let you know that they do not catch your meaning: they wait until you say ’summat else,’ in the hope that they may gather therefrom what you mean; and if you do not happen to say anything which throws light upon the unknown word, well, there the matter ends, and as a rule it does not trouble them for one moment. A farm labourer fell off a bicycle, and sprained his arm very severely; the doctor, a young locum, and a trifle pedantic, gave him a bottle of lotion, saying, as he did so, ‘Your arm will be all right in a few days: you have strained your biceps, you must rub it well with this lotion.’ ‘What diz ta think on him?’ asked one, who had been waiting outside. ‘Whya, he’s nowt bud a fondheead, is yon. What diz ta think? He sez ’at Ah’ve spraaned my airm, an’ he’s gi’en ma a bottle o’ stuff ti rub t’ bisittle wiv; let’s gan ti t’ bone-setter.’ A lady visiting a poor young fellow who was seriously ill, and very feverish, said to the mother, ‘Your son is very ill, I fear.’ ‘He is that, mum; he’s nut foor lang doon here. Hooivver, wa’ve deean t’ best ’at lay i’ wer power, an’ yan isn’t yabble ti deea na mair ’an that. Bud Ah’s pleeased ti saay ’at wa’ve gitten eneeaf saved up ti put him deeacently by, an’ that’s a blessing. It’ll be a beautiful funeral, mum, an’ wa’ve let him saay whau’s ti be bidden; an’ Ah deean’t think he’s forgitten yan ov his au’d frien’s—bud he awlus was thowtful.’ ‘That is very nice,’ said the lady, for she understood something of the people and their ways. ‘I will send you a couple of ice wafers,’ said she, thinking they would be nice for him to cool his lips with. ‘I think your son will like them, he seems so feverish.’ Next day, when she inquired how the patient was, the poor mother said, with tears in her eyes, ‘Thank ya, mum, Ah think he’s warse.’ ‘Did he like the wafers?’ she inquired, adding, ‘you can have more.’ ‘Well, mum,’ said the mother, ‘Ah c’u’dn’t saay foor sartin whether he liked ’em or nut. Ya see, ez seean ez ya sent ’em, Ah put him t’ white yan on his chist; bud he ’pleeaned ’at it felt varra cau’d, an’ seea Ah teeak it off, an’ put t’ pink un on a plate i’ front o’ t’ fire ti warm. Bud Ah think t’ cat must ’a’e gitten ’t, foor it war gone when Ah went for’t. So ya see, iv a waay, he ’adn’t a fair go wiv ’em. Bud you needn’t send na mair, he’s gahin fast noo.’
A gentleman said to a Yorkshire dame, ‘Your little chap looks very robust.’ ‘Aye, an’ your larl chap leeaks t’ saame,’ said she; not in the least knowing what ’robust’ meant. ‘Nay, nay,’ said the gentleman; ‘I only wish he was’—glancing at the very weakly child he held by the hand. The dame perceived she had made a mistake, so added, ‘Whya he seean wad be’; and then, not quite certain of her ground, or where ‘robust’ was going to land her, continued, ‘bud then yan nivver knaws.’ When the gentleman had left the group, one of the bystanders said, ‘Dolly, what diz ro-bust meean?’ ‘Deean’t ass me, Ah’ve na mair idea na t’ man i’ t’ meean,’ said she. ‘Then what maad ta saay ’at his bairn leeaked t’ saame ez what he sed thahn did?’ ‘Whya, Ah thowt ’at if he war calling mah bairn naames, Ah’d let him ’ev ez good ez he sent; whahl, if he war sayin’ summat i’ praise on ’t, Ah sud be deeaing t’ saame byv his.’
On another occasion, a village dame entered the doctor’s visiting-room. ‘Noo, then,’ she commenced, ‘gie ma summat, an’ leeak sharp aboot it, fer Ah is badly; Ah can nowther bahd ti sit doon, stan’ up, ner nowt.’ ‘What is the matter with you?’ inquired the doctor. ‘Naay, what; it’s neea ewse assing me, Ah’ve cumd to see you aboot that.’ ‘Well, but what ails you?’ ‘Aals ma! Ah’ve gitten galloping paans all reet roond aboot ivverywheear; Ah is badly.’ ‘But what have you been doing to get them?’ ‘Whya, Ah can think o’ nowt bud, t’ daay afoor yesterdaay, Ah war weshin’, an’ Ah mun ’a’e kept a damp ap’on on, an’ Ah aim ’at it’s gi’en ma cau’d all reet roond aboot ivverywheer.’ ‘Now I know what’s the matter with you. Here’s a bottle for you; take it home, and you had better drink a teaspoonful every ten minutes, and it will be best if you take it in a recumbent position,’ said he, handing Martha the bottle. Now, ‘recumbent position’ was quite outside Martha’s vocabulary; she had not the least idea what he meant, but she was not going to expose her ignorance by asking. So off home she set, saying to herself as she went along, ‘“Re-cum-bunt po-zition;” noo what diz that mean?’ However, Yorkshire like, she hit upon a plan of getting to know, without exposing her own ignorance. Calling on a neighbour as she passed by, she shouted, ‘‘Liza Jane, Ah’ve been ti t’ doctor, an’ he’s gi’en ma a bottle o’ stuff, an’ Ah ’ev ti tak a speeanful on ’t ivvery ten minits; bud he sez ’at Ah ’ev ti tak it in a recumbunt po-zition. Bud thoo knaws Ah ’evn’t gitten yan, an’ Ah thowt mebbe ’at thoo’d be seea good ez ti let ma ’a’e t’ len’ o’ thahn; will ta?’ Liza Jane knew no more what ’recumbunt po-zition’ meant than Martha, but she was not going to give herself away, so she replied, ‘Ah wad ’a’e deean sa wi’ t’ gertest o’ pleasure i’ t’ wo’lld, nobbut Ah lent mahn yisterday. Bud ez thoo gans up t’ village, call in at t’ shop an’ buy yan for thisen, an’ then thoo’ll ’ev it at heeam when thoo wants it; an’ if tha ’evn’t gitten yan, buy a mug—it’ll deea just t’ seeam.’
One more. Bessy having explained to the doctor that her husband was suffering from a fearful pain in the head, was ordered to apply the half-dozen leeches which he gave her. Now, had the doctor said, ‘stick ’em on,’ or ’clap ’em on,’ Bessy would have known what she had to do with them. However, she had half a dozen leeches to do something with, so she went home and did her level best. A couple of days after, the doctor, seeing Bessy, asked her how John was. ‘Oh, he’s all reet noo. Them things capped him; tha did, hooivver.’ ‘You managed all right, did you, Bessy?’ asked he. ‘Whya, Ah caan’t saay ’at wa mannished sa weel wi’ t’ fo’st un ’at Ah gav’ him; he chow’d on wi’ ‘t, bud he c’u’d catch ho’d on ’t neea road, soa Ah boil’d him t’ rest, an’ he sluthered ’em doon neycely.’