The Archdeacon of —— gave me the following story, which is too good to hide its head. The bishop had been preaching a restoration sermon in one of our villages. After the sermon his lordship and the archdeacon overtook the village blacksmith, a well-known character. ‘Well, John, and how have you enjoyed the sermon?’ inquired the archdeacon. ‘Whya, nowt bud weel. Ah s’u’d think, sir’ (turning to the bishop), ‘wiv a bit mair practis ya’ll mannish cannily. I’ t’ main what ya sed war varra good; a larl bit ti low i’ t’ voice for me, bud ya’ll mend o’ that. Noo, Ah yance did hear a young chap, an’ he war nobbut a young un an’ all. Ah think ’at he war iv a grosser’s shop, bud Ah’s nut sartin; bud that’s nowt. He yance preeached i’ t’ Methody chapel, an’ theer’s nut a wo’d of a lee aboot it, what Ah saay is trew; ya c’u’d hear him slap t’ Bahble an’ shoot hauf t’ waay doon t’ village. Aye, ya c’u’d stan’ ootsahd an’ smeeak ya’re pipe an’ get all t’ good fra what he war saaying; bud, then, he war a preeacher.’ I can well imagine the tone that last ‘bud, then, he war a preeacher’ would be uttered in.
The younger fry are just as open as the older folk. I remember a lady telling me she had called at a farm-house. Evidently she had been seen approaching. It would seem the doll and other litter of the wee daughter had been quickly bundled out of sight, and all things, as far as possible, put in order. For the moment the amusement of the little one was put an end to, and this did not escape the notice of the child. She, Yorkshire-like, formed her own opinion upon the proceeding, and only waited for a suitable moment to very plainly express the same. Resting her elbows on the lady’s knees, with her chubby little face in her hands, she said, when a lull in the conversation gave her a chance to speak, ‘Ah saay, missus, hoo pleasant it wad ’a’e been if you’d nivver ’a’e cum’d.’
The cautiousness of the Yorkshireman is so evident in all matters, it is so pronounced, that to give examples is almost to lay oneself open to the charge ‘ov telling a chap summat he knaws.’ Nevertheless I give you one, not so much because it is exactly Q.E.D., but because it is one of the best expositions of Socialism I have ever heard. It seems that some Socialist won one man over to his views, and this man met a friend of his. ‘Whya, noo then,’ began the friend; ‘what tha tell ma ’at thoo’s to’n’d ti be a Socialist, is ’t reet?’ ‘Aye, it’s reet; an’ it’s a gran’ thing an’ all. Thoo owt ti join uz.’ ‘Owt Ah? What is ’t ’at ya’re efter?’ ‘Whya, thoo knaws it’s lyke this; ther’s a lot o’ fau’k living i’ gert hooses, an’ tha’re eating an’ drinking all t’ daay lang an’ guzzling t’ neet thruff, sum on ’em, an’ it’s gahin ti be stopped. Ivverything’s gahin ti be shared up, an’ all on uz get what’s wer awn; neeabody nowt na mair ’an onnybody else, dizn’t ta see,’ ‘Whya, nut fur sartin.’ said his friend. ‘Diz ta meean ’at thoo’ll share up an’ all?’ ‘Aye, ivverybody will.’ ‘What, is’t gahin ti be a soart o’ brotherly luv’? Ivverybody wi’ nowt neea mair na onnybody else.’ ‘Aye, that’s it; brotherly luv’. Ivverybody all t’ seeam, neeabody nowt neea different neeawaays ti neeabody i’ neea road.’ ‘It soonds grand; bud diz ta meean ti saay if thoo ’ed tweea hosses an’ Ah ’edn’t a hoss ’at thoo’d gi’e ma yan?’ ‘Iv a minit Ah wad. If Ah’d tweea an’ thoo ’edn’t yan Ah s’u’d gi’e tha yan leyke all that,’ said he, slapping his friend on the back. ‘Aye, an’ if ta ’ed tweea coos, an’ Ah wanted a coo, wad ta gi’e uz a coo?’ ‘Just t’ seeam. If thoo ’edn’t a coo, an’ Ah ’ed tweea, Ah s’u’d tell tha ti tak yan awaay wi tha. Noo thoo understands what wa’re efter.’ ‘An’ if thoo’d tweea pigs, an’ Ah ’edn’t a pig, an’ Ah ass’d tha fur a pig, wad ta gi’e ma yan?’ ‘Naay noo,’ said the Socialist; ‘thoo’s cumin’ teea clooase hand noo; thoo knaws ’at Ah ’ev tweea pigs.’
Possibly not a little surprised was the angler who, when fishing in one of the small streams of the upper reaches of the Ure, said jokingly to an old chap who had been watching his vain attempts to land several fish, ‘I think I need a hanger on; what do you say?’ The old chap had been thoroughly disgusted with the way in which the fish had been played. It was no case for joking; it was a downright sin for such a man to be allowed to fish. So the answer, as may be expected, was more to the point than polite. ‘What thoo wants,’ said the old chap with a grunt of disgust, ‘is nut a hinger on, bud a flinger oot. If it’s fish ’at thoo’s efter, thoo’ll ’a’e ti lig t’ rod doon an’ set ti wark wi t’ net; thoo mebbins mud ’a’e t’ luck ti catch yan o’ them ’at thoo’s hauf killed. Thoo’s naa fisher; thoo’s nowt bud a spoil watter, that’s what thoo is.’ Thus relieving himself, Old Willie walked away.
One of my sketches, given at a Primrose League meeting, gave great offence to the coachman of a noble lord. Entertainers, by the way, do not hold any social position in the eyes of such. Some time afterwards I was asked to go as entertaining guest on his lordship’s son’s attaining his majority. A day or two before my arrival my host asked his coachman if he had not been to the entertainment which I had given.
‘Aye,’ said the old chap, ‘bud I wadn’t gan agaan. He’s up ti nowt, isn’t yon youth; he’ll nivver git on. He’s gitten impedence foor owt, he spares nowt na neeabody, he taks sarvants an’ t’ quality off all alike; Ah reckon nowt on him at all.’
‘I am sorry to hear that,’ said his master.
‘Whya, Ah’s seear ya’ve gitten neea call ti be, he’s nut wo’th it. Ya mun excuse me, my lord, bud what mud ya be sorry foor?’ ‘Well, because he is coming here.’ ‘Cumin’ here!’ said the coachman, amazed; ‘what ivver foor?’ ‘To entertain my guests.’ ‘What! deea ya meean when t’ young lord cums at age?’ he asked, his amazement increasing. ‘Yes,’ said his lordship, greatly amused. ‘Oha! an’ wheer will ya put him up? ’coz Ah can tell ya ’at t’ sarvants weean’t want ti ’ev him amangst them, tha neeawaays setten up wiv him.’ ‘But he won’t be with the servants.’ ‘Then wheer will he be?’ ‘With us, of course.’ ‘Deea ya meean ti saay ’at he’ll dine wi’ yow an’ t’ quality?’ asked the old chap, fairly amazed now. ‘Certainly.’ For a moment the old fellow hesitated; he was bewildered by such a piece of folly. And then he spoke his mind. ‘Well!’ he gasped, ‘ya mun excuse me, my lord, bud Ah think ’at yer gahin ti mak a varra common do on ’t.’ Nice for me, wasn’t it?
However boorish and brusque strangers may dub us, it is admitted on all hands that the Yorkshireman is fairly ’cute: he always has an eye to the main chance. And although others who are glibber of tongue may to a certain extent fairly ’mazzle’ him with their verbosity, yet any such may certainly claim to having done the ’hat trick’ if in the end they manage to outwit the Tyke. ‘He ommaist ’wildered ma wiv his slather, bud Ah pairted wi’ nowt,’ said an old man who had been tackled by a book agent.
‘Did ta bet owt at t’ races?’ asked one Tyke of another. ‘Neea, Ah didn’t. It war leyke this, thoo knaws. T’ chaps ’at Ah seed stanning o’ t’ top o’ steeals an’ sitting unner gert um’erellas all seeam’d ti ’ev gawd rings an’ cheeans on, an’ tha war varra weel dhriss’d an’ all, whahl monny ov ’em ’at war ’livering ther brass up war oot at t’ teeas an’ doon at t’ heels. Seea Ah sed tiv mysen, “T’ steeal an’ t’ um’erella chaps leeak ez if tha war ’evving t’ best o’ t’ bargain all t’ waay thruff,’ an’ seea neean on ’em gat onny o’ mah brass. Dizn’t ta think ’at Ah war i’ t’ reet on ’t?”