‘Well!’ sez Ah, ‘Ah deean’t ho’d wi’ betting, an’ Ah nivver at neea tahm did; bud if so be ez hoo an au’d boddy leyke mysen can larn ya hoo easy a suverin can be slithered awaay by backing up sike consate ez ’ez gitten ho’d o’ ya, whya, here gans.’ An’ Ah pulled mah pess[83] oot, teeak t’ on’y suverin ’at Ah ’ed, and handed it tiv a chap ez war sitting byv his sahd; t’ young chap handed him yan an’ all, an’ then Ah lifted t’ card up, an’—oho—— o! Ah nivver war seea capped iv all mah leyfe—it warn’t it. Ah trimm’l’d an’ dithered fra t’ top ti t’ boddum o’ ma; Ah felt just ez if mah back war stuffed wiv aspen leeaves.
‘John!’ Ah gasped, ‘it’s a swinn’l, it’s a swinn’l; keep thi han’ i’ thi pocket, or thoo’ll be lossing t’ ten pund ’at mah aunt Martha left uz ti buy a bit o’ betterly furniter wi’. An’ deean’t let on ’at thoo ’ez ten pund aboot tha,’ sez Ah, foorgitting ’at Ah war letting ivvery yan on ’em i’ t’ carridge knaw ’at he’d gitten seea mich on him. Hooivver, Ah hedn’t neea tahm ti saay owt else, foor just then wa gat ti Stockton, an’ Ah think ther war a warse hubbleshoe on i’ Stockton Station ’an what ther war i’ Guisborough. ‘Noo, then!’ sez Ah tiv a gert fat woman ’at cam thrussin’ up agaan ma, ‘deean’t ya cum shuvvin’ ma aboot i’ that road.’ ‘Noo, then, Victoria!’ sez sha, ‘what’s t’ matter wi’ thoo?’ ‘Ah’s nut Victoria!’ sez Ah; an’ leeak ya, Ah deean’t think sha thowt ’at Ah war. Just ez Ah sed that, ther war anuther woman stood hersen reet on t’ top o’ mah pet bunion. ‘Oh deeary ma, missus!’ Ah skriked oot, ‘Ah cannut bahd this, hooivver, ya’re laaming ma sadly; deea tak yer foot off.’ ‘Noo, then,’ sez she, ’t’ station isn’t yowrs!’ ‘Neea,’ sez Ah, ‘bud t’ bunion is.’ An’ wi’ that Ah tell’d John an’ t’ childer ti follow cleease at t’ back o’ ma, an’ Ah boudly pushed mah waay oot o’ t’ station. Neea seeaner ’ed wa gitten ootsahd, ’an Ah seed clagg’d on a wall a gert big bill, wi’ theease we’ds printed on ’t, ‘BEWARE O’ PICKPOCKETS.’ An’ what d’ye think? Ah felt i’ mah pocket, an’ mah pess, eight-an’-six, an’ mah railway ticket ’ed all geean, geean ez cleean ez a whistle. Ah didn’t tell John; Ah just sed, ‘Thoo mun keep thi han’ i’ thi pocket, or else sumbody ’ll be takking t’ ten pund fra tha, if thoo dizn’t mahnd.’ He sez ti ma, ‘Tha weean’t git nowt oot o’ mah pockets, if tha deea shuv ther han’s in.’ Ah sez, ‘Thoo dizn’t meean ti saay ’at tha’ve gitten ’t fra tha alriddy, diz ta?’ ‘Neea,’ sez he, ‘Ah ’evn’t gitten t’ brass i’ mah pocket—Ah’ve putten ’t i’ mah hat.’ An’ then Ah notished ’at he ’ed his hancutcher tied ower his hat an’ unner his chin, leeaking foor all t’ wo’lld leyke yan ’at war iv an extremity wi’ t’ teeth wark; bud Ah thowt it war t’ capitalist idea ’at onnyboddy could ’a’e thowt on. Ah didn’t saay seea tiv him, acoz if yer praise t’ men tha seean git past thersens—bud ya knaw that bidoot ma telling ya. Hooivver, Ah did wish ’at Ah’d putten mah pess i’ mah bonnet, an’ then Ah s’u’dn’t ’a’e lost it an’ all ’at war iv it. ‘It’ll be t’ best,’ Ah sez, ‘foor uz ti finnd wa waays ti t’ course, git summat ti eat, see a race, buy t’ furniter, an’ gan yam ageean.’ Noo, hoo can Ah picter ti tha a race-course? If yer can ’magine all t’ rackapelts an’ raggamuffins gedered tigither i’ yah crood, shooting men an’ screeaming women, wi’ rows o’ carridges filled wi’ lords an’ ladies stuffing thersens wi’ pies an’ pop, ya can ’ev summat ov a idea what a race-course is leyke. Whahl wa war stannin’ fair capped wi’ t’ carryings on, whau s’u’d cum up bud t’ varra seeam young chap ’at Ah’d lost t’ pund teea i’ t’ carridge. ‘Ah’s glad ’at Ah’ve tumm’l’d across ya ageean,’ sez he. ‘Mebbe ya may be,’ sez Ah. ‘Ya see, ya wan t’ pund an’ Ah lost it, an’ that maks all t’ difference i’ being glad ti see onnybody.’ ‘Aye, bud that’s nut it; Ah’ve gitten a gert frien’ o’ yer muther’s wi’ ma,’ sez he. ‘Oh, indeed,’ sez Ah. ‘An’ whau may that be?’ ‘This is the gentleman,’ sez he; ‘let ma mak him knawn ti ya. This is Lord Swin’lton, whau knew yer muther varra weel.’ ‘Ah didn’t knaw ’at mah muther ivver war acquainted wiv a lord,’ sez Ah, leeaking t’ chap ower; bud ther war neea doot aboot his being a lord—Ah seed that t’ minit Ah clapped mah een on him. Oh yes, he war all there—ulster, eye-glass, di’mon’ pin, an’ ivverything. Ther’s no mistakking a lord when ya see yan, tha’re good eneeaf ti challenge. ‘This is yer husband?’ sez his lordship, leeaking at John. ‘Got t’ feeace-ache?’ sez he. ‘Noa, mah lord,’ sez Ah, ‘it’s nut t’ feeace-ache ’at he’s suffering fra. It’s leyke this, doan’t yer see, mah lord: mah aunt Martha left us ten pund ti buy a bit o’ betterly furniter wi’, an’ seea ez neeabody ’ll finnd oot wheer it is, he’s tied it up iv his hat, foor safety leyke, ez a body might saay, ez ya may term it so ti speeak.’
‘An’ a varra good plan an’ all,’ sez he.
Just at that minit t’ young chap whau Ah’d lost t’ pund teea teeak a fit, an’ fell wiv his han’s roond oor John’s neck, an’ doon tha baith went tigither, an’ ez tha tumm’l’d on ti t’ grand, Lord Swin’lton swiped oor John’s hat off wiv his stick, an’ next minit Sairey Jane beald oot, ‘Oha, muther! Lord Swin’lton’s off wi’ mah feyther’s hat, an’ it’s gitten t’ ten pund in ’t.’ Ah didn’t stop ti think, thoo knaws, bud just off efter him ez hard ez ivver Ah could gan. Ah heard a man saay ’at he’d nivver seen a woman leg it leyke what Ah did. Ah s’u’d ’a’e catch’d him an’ all, bud just when Ah war gahin’ ti click ho’d ov his coat taals, Ah catched mah foot iv a tent-roap, an’ afoor Ah knew wheer Ah war, Ah war laid wi’ mah heead iv a box o’ cokernuts. ‘Noo, then,’ shooted t’ man ’at awn’d ’em, ‘cum oot o’ that. Deean’t ya cum cracking mah cokernuts, an’ sucking t’ milk oot; ther’s neea free sucks here.’ Ah gat up, an’ Ah let that man ’ev t’ length o’ mah tunge—Lord Swin’lton ’ed ta’en hissel off by that tahm. Ther war nowt else for ’t bud ti git wersens heeam ez best wa could. An’ when Ah’d putten Sairey Jane an’ Jimmy ti bed, Ah sed tiv oor John, Ah sez, ‘Noo, John, Ah deean’t want ti upbraad tha—it’s been a sad daay foor uz—bud efter all’s sed an’ deean, thoo owt ti be asham’d o’ thisel foor ivver letting a woman ’tice tha inti takking her ti sikan a blackguardy pleeace ez Stockton Races.
Note.—Wensleydale and Swaledale readers will find it both interesting and instructive to compare the above sketch, which is given in the Clevelandic speech, with the folk-speech as spoken in their own dale, which to a slight degree in pronunciation tends toward that of Lancashire in one direction and to that of Cumberland and Westmoreland in the other. The two latter, however, on all counts, bear a closer relationship to our North Riding speech than either that of the West Riding or South Lancashire.
It must always be borne in mind that the dialect along the north-east coast of Yorkshire approaches nearer to its original source than that of any other, and especially so may this be said of Cleveland.
A HUNDERD YEARS HENCE.
[Date about 1800.]
A hunderd years hence
What a chaange ’ll be maade