“Yes.”
“Then Jack’s just as daft as ivver. Here I’ve com be railyway to see him, an’ what mun he dew but set off be rooad to see me.”
The two veterans did not meet, for Billy would not sacrifice the return half of his “railyway” ticket, and Jack was so disgusted at the occurrence that he would not await his friend’s return. Though the pair lived at least ten years longer, they never made another attempt to meet.
BASSENTHWAITE LAKE AND SKIDDAW
But it is of Jacob that I should be speaking, and of the day when in Keswick market-place I tried to lure him on to description.
“I think a man like you will have met a few great men in your time,” suggested my friend in a halfhearted manner. “I mean did you ever see Southey, or Wordsworth?”
“No, I can’t say I ivver did. I hae often heard of Mr. Southey, but he was often away in t’ Sooth. But ther was yan chap I mind varra weel—t’ Skidda Hermit we used to caw him. Whar he com fra we nivver knew, but yan summer we began to find ther was some body leeven in t’ huts on t’ fell as hed nowt to do wi’ shipherds. But for many a day we nivver cam across him. We fand him at last in a ghyll penten’ a picter of a waterfa’—an’ a fine picter it was hooivver. But he woddent speak tull us. We thowt he was dumb and wanted him to tell our fortens, but he was as sulky as could be. He went off aw at yance leaven his painten and things just as they wor, and for a week or two we didn’t see him again. He was a tall chap, nut varra dirty seein’ how he leeved on t’ fell, and allus was fairly put on. But though he gat as he wod talk tull sum on us, he wod nivver say nowt about his name nor whar he com frae—you hed just to mention that and he was off like a deer and ye didn’t see seet on him agaen for many a day. He didn’t stop on Skidda always, but he was oftenest there—it is aboot t’ whietest [quietest] place in England on t’ moor there. Then yan back-end he went off; he gev me a bit of blue cobble pented wi’ a grey sheep just afoor, but I lost it on t’ fell—it was weel done——”
“Coming, Jacob?” through the bleats and barks and whistles and shouts a voice interrupts; it is one of our friend’s neighbours prepared to go home.
“Aye. Good-day,” this last to us, and he steps into the trap.