“We wer stawed, as I telt yea—o' t' pleser we hed was when we went out a bit to beat t' fire for a nebbor 'at was baking—that was a grand day for us!—At Kursmas teea, ther was t' maskers—an' on Kursmas day at mworn they gav' us sum reed stuff to' t' Breakfast—I think it maun ha' been Jocklat—but we dud'nt like 't at a', 't ommost puzzened us!—an' we cared for nought but how we wer to git back to Langdon—Neet an' Day ther was nought but this knitting! T' Nebbors ust at gang about fra' house to house, we' ther wark,—than yan fire dud, ye knaw, an' they cud hev a better—they hed girt lang black peeats—an' set them up an hed in a girt round we' a whol at top—an a' t' Fwoak sat about it. When ony o' them gat into a hubble we' ther wark, they shouted out ‘turn a Peeat’—an' them' at sat naarest t' fire turnt yan, an' meaad a low7—for they nivver hed onny cannal.—We knat quorse wosset stockings—some gloves—an' some neet caps, an' wastecwoat breests, an' petticwoats. I yance knat a stocking, for mysell, e' six hours—Sally yan e' sebben—an' t'woman's Doughter, 'at was aulder than us e' eight—an' they sent a nwote to our Fwoak e' Langdon at tell them.
7 i.e. a flame; it is an Icelandic word. See Haldorson's Lexicon. At loga, ardere and Loga, flamma. So in St. George for England,
As timorous larks amazed are
With light, and with a low-bell.
“Sally an' me, when we wer by our sells, wer always contrivin how we wer at git away, when we sleept by oursells we talk't of nought else—but when t' woman's Doughter sleept we' us we wer qwhite mum—summat or udder always happent at hinder us, till yan day, between Kursmas an' Cannalmas, when t' woman's Doughter stait at heaam, we teuk off. Our house was four mile on 'todder side o' Dent's Town—whor, efter we hed pass t' Skeul, we axed t'way to Kendal—It hed been a hard frost, an' ther was snaw on t' grund—but it was beginnin to thow, an' was varra sloshy an' cauld—but we poted alang leaving our lile footings behint us—we hed our cloggs on—for we durst'nt change them for our shoon for fear o' being fund out—an' we had nought on but our hats, an' bits o' blue bedgowns, an' brats—sea ye may think we cuddent be varra heeat—I hed a sixpence e' my pocket, an' we hed three or four shilling mare in our box, 'at our Fwoak hed ge'en us to keep our pocket we'—but, lile mafflins8 as we wer, we thought it wad be misst an' durst'nt tak ony mare.
8 Maffling—a state of perplexity.—BROCKETT. Maffled, mazed, and maisled (as used a little further on) have all a like sense.
“Afore we gat to Sebber9 we fell hungry; an' ther was a fine, girt, reed house nut far off t' rwoad, whar we went an' begged for a bit o' breead—but they wadd'nt give us ought—sea we trampt on, an com to a lile theakt house, an' I said—‘Sally thou sall beg t' neesht—thou's less than me, an mappen they'll sarra us’—an' they dud—an' gav us a girt shive10 o' breead—at last we gat to Scotch Jins, as they ca' t' public House about three mile fra Sebber (o' this side) a Scotch woman keept it.—It was amaist dark, sea we axt her at let us stay o' neet—she teuk us in, an' gav us sum boilt milk and breead—an' suun put us to bed—we telt her our taael; an' she sed we wer int' reet at run away.
9 i.e. Sedbergh.
10 So in Titus Andronicus.
“Easy it is
Of a cut loaf to steal a shive we know.”
“Neesht mwornin she gav us sum mare milk an' breead, an' we gav her our sixpence—an' then went off-sledding away amangt' snaw, ower that cauld moor (ye ken' 't weel enough) naarly starved to deeath, an' maisled—sea we gat on varra slawly, as ye may think—an' 't rain'd tua. We begged again at anudder lile theakt house, on t' Hay Fell—there was a woman an' a heap of raggeltly Bairns stannin round a Teable—an' she gave us a few of their poddish, an' put a lock of sugar into a sup of cauld tea tull them.