"Now tell me, gaffer, can one see as far as America, do you think?"
"One can see a deel furder," answered John
"You don't mean to say so?"
"Eh, but I do. One can see t' moon from Whitston on a moonshiny neet."
Old John had a famous pear-tree in his garden. Two years running his pears were stolen, and no doubt were sold in Thirsk market, without John being a penny the richer. The old man grimly awaited the thief as the fruit ripened in the following autumn, sitting nightly in his window, gun in hand.
One dark night, just before market-day, he heard some one at his tree. He took careful aim at the spot whence the sound proceeded, fired, and a scream told him his bullet had taken effect. In fact, he had hit the thief in the thigh; but the ball had fortunately penetrated the flesh, and broken no bone.
The pear-stealer was caught, and on the first opportunity brought before the magistrates at Thirsk. The presiding magistrate—I think it was Sir John Galway, but am not certain—deemed it advisable to caution John M—— against too free a use of his gun.
"You know, my good friend, that a gun loaded with a bullet might have killed the man who stole your pears."
"Ah, it might, and it would, but t' gun snecked (kicked) as I were blazin' wi' it."
"If the gun had not 'snecked,' as you call it, the bullet would probably have gone into the poor fellow's heart and killed him dead."