Cautiousness and ’cuteness is fairly well set forth in the following story. Old Jobson wished to gain some legal information, ‘bud he didn’t want ti pay owt for ’t.’ Meeting the legal light one day, he began, ‘Ah saay, if Ah wor ti ax ya summat aboot summat, s’u’d Ah ’a’e ti pay summat? It’s aboot yon pathwaay o’ mahn ’at Ah want ti knaw summat.’ ‘Certainly; I don’t give advice free,’ replied the lawyer. ‘Whya then, Ah weean’t ax ya nowt; things may bahd ez they are, whahl yow want a larl piece o’ knowledge fra me, an’ then wa’ll see if wa caan’t mak a swap on’t. Nowther t’ field na t’ path’ll shift,’ said Jobson as he walked away. And so matters rested for some months, in fact until the lawyer’s horse (a very valuable one) was suddenly taken ill. Jobson was at once sent for, he being an expert in all horse ailments. The old farmer, after a careful examination of his patient, declared he knew what was amiss and what was needed to effect a cure. ‘Then I will send my man for what you need at once,’ said the owner.
‘Aye, bud wait a bit; deean’t ya aim ’at tahm’s cum’d when wa s’all ’a’e ti swap wer knowledge?’ said the farmer, with a twinkle in his eye. The solicitor burst out laughing; he saw the joke and admitted the validity of the claim. The old chap saved the horse, and the pathway was satisfactorily arranged.
The Yorkshireman always sees that he gets value for his money, at least he always tries to do so.
The village orchestral society were rehearsing for a public performance which was to be given the following week. The squire and a musical friend had just dropped in towards its conclusion. The friend, speaking at the conclusion with the conductor, said, ‘You have a remarkably good band; you only lack one slight addition to make it one of the best for the size of your village I have ever listened to. Will you allow me to suggest that you get a horn? you lack only that.’ ‘Oha, an’ what’s a horn?’ inquired the conductor. Having had the matter fully explained, he asked what a horn could be bought for. But the gentleman pointed out there was hardly time to procure a horn and teach a man how to play it before the entertainment came off. ‘Whya then,’ asked the conductor, ‘deea yer knaw a chap ’at c’u’d cum an’ play t’ horn foor uz, an’ what wad he cum foor?’ ‘I know a first-class player, and I think he would come for five pounds.’ ‘Fahve pund!’ gasped the conductor. ‘Whya, Ah c’u’d git a whoale band foor that!’ ‘Never mind the money, John,’ said the squire; ‘I’ll see about that.’ ‘Oha, whya, if it’s gahin ti be leyke that, let’s ’a’e t’ chap wi’ t’ horn.’ And so the matter was settled. On the night of the performance the man with the horn put in an appearance, and all went well for about ten minutes, when the conductor stopped the band, and turning to the horn-player, he said, ‘Noo then, thee wi’ t’ horn, thoo isn’t playing.’ ‘No,’ said he; ‘I have forty-five bars rest here.’ Whereupon the conductor electrified every one by saying, ‘Mebbe thoo thinks seea, bud leeaks ta here, wa’ve paid thee fahve pund foor t’ neet an’ thoo’ll ’a’e ti puff all t’ waay thruff.’
Scores of stories could be given illustrating the aptitude our country-people exhibit in extricating themselves when placed in an awkward corner.
The dear old lady who was my study for Mrs. Waddleton asked me to paint her a picture—‘seea ez Ah s’all ’a’e summat ti leeak at ’at ya’ve deean yersel when ya’ve geean,’ said she. I readily promised to do so, and in due course sent her a little snow scene.
A few days afterwards she saw me passing. ‘Noo then,’ she shouted, ‘cum in wi’ ya. Ah’ve gitten ’t heng’d up, an’, mah wo’d, bud it leeaks grand, dizn’t it?’ ‘I am glad you like it,’ said I, as I gazed at my work of art nestling amongst coloured grasses and peacock feathers; ‘and very nicely you have arranged everything. But perhaps it would be better if you hung it the right way up.’ Her face was a picture. The dear old soul felt that she had blundered; she was fearful lest I should feel hurt.
But her native wit saved her. ‘Wrang sahd up, is ’t? Aa, bud, Ah saay, ya mun be a clivver penter seea ez ti pent a picter ’at leeaks reet onny road up.’ Then, after a moment’s consideration, she added, ‘But mebbies Ah’d best to’n ’t t’other road roond; sum fau’k mud think ’at yan didn’t knaw t’ reet end ov a picter if yan let it bahd ez ’tis.’
Sir C—— and Mr. W——, a solicitor, once overtook Abe Braithwaite, a well-known character in Bedale, on the way to the meet. ‘Good morning,’ said Sir C——; ‘shall we have a find, Abe?’ ‘Nut i’ yon cover; bud Ah cud gi’e ya a wrinkle.’ ‘Well, let’s have it,’ said Sir C——. ‘Whya, deean’t weeast mich tahm yonder, bud gan ti t’ far cover, an’ ya’ll finnd yan theer, hard eneeaf.’ ‘All right, Abe, I’ll bear in mind what you say,’ said Sir C—— as the two rode off. ‘Ah saay,’ shouted Abe after the retreating horsemen, ‘if ya’d ass’d advice frev him ’at’s wi’ ya he’d wanted six an’ eightpence, bud Ah nivver charge nowt na mair ’an a bob mysen.’ And he got it.
A story just strikes me which illustrates several points already mentioned. A young fellow who was supposed to be learning land agency bought a horse at an adjacent fair, and was most systematically swindled. The said horse was being looked over by one of the village Tykes. Now for many reasons the fellow did not wish to offend the purchaser, but it was really impossible to say one thing in its favour. ‘Well, Tom, what is the verdict?’ asked the embryo agent. And then came the answer, which was worthy of a Grecian lawyer: ‘Whya noo, that gertly depends. Ya weean’t ’a’e bowt it owther ti show or hunt, noo ’a’e ya?’ ‘Oh no, just to knock about on.’ ‘Oha, whya then, ’t’ll deea grandly ti knock aboot on,’ said Tom. ‘All the same you think they’ve swindled me, now don’t you?’ ‘Whya it’s mebbins mair ’an Ah’d ’a’e gi’en for ’t mysen, but ’t’ll deea grandly ti knock aboot on.’ At this juncture they were joined by the village ostler, one who was never over-nice in his remarks. ‘Now, Jack, what do you think of my bargain?’ ‘What div Ah think on ’t? Whya, Ah wadn’t be seen takking it ti t’ kennels’ (i. e. taking it to feed the dogs); and then, thinking he had been a little too severe, he added, ‘Bud Ah’ll tell ya what, ’t’ll deea foor yer ti larn what a hoss s’u’d be, foor it’s getten neean o’ t’ points ’at a hoss owt ti ’ev, an’ ommaist ivvery yan ’at it s’u’dn’t; ’t’ll deea foor yer ti study ’t up.’