Yorksher Puddin Part 30

"Doant yo' be feeared abaat th' milk," sed Burt, "awl pay for it; let it have summat to ait. Tun summat into it. Aw wonder if it ud like a drop o' hooam-brewed?" "If tha doesn't mak thisen scarce aw'll break ivvery booan i' thi skin. Haven't aw getten enuff to do wi' this brat, withaat been bothered wi' thee! Go and fetch that cunstable when aw tell thi."

"Well, if aw mun goa, aw'll goa, but mind what yo're doing with that thing, an' dooant squeeze it." After lukkin' at it once moor, an' seeing it sneeze, he started off to th' village happier nor any man within a hundred mile.

It didn't tak Burt long to find th' cunstable, for he knew th' haase where he slept most ov his time, and they wor sooin up at owd Mary's.

They'd a fine time when they gat there too, for th' child wer asleep, and Mary refused to let onybody disturb it. Burt declared it wor his, an he'd a reight to see it when he liked; an'th' cunstable sed he wor armed wi law an' should tak it into custody whether it wor asleep or net.

Mary's husband wor upstairs confined to bed wi rhumatics, but th'

dowters had tell'd him all abaat Burt's adventure, an' as he could hear all 'at wor sed, he furst began to feel uneasy, an' then to loise his temper, soa he seized his crutch an' ran daan stairs like a lad o'

sixteen, an' laid abaat him reight an' left, an' i' less nor a minit Burt, th' cunstable, an' owd Mary wor aghtside.

"Nah," he sed, as he stood i' th' doorhoil, puffin' an' blowin', wi' his crutch ovver his shoulder, like a musket, "Aw'll let yo see whose child that is! It wor fun i' my field, an' it belangs to me. What my land produces belangs to me, noa matter whether it's childer or chicken weed!" Things wor i' this state when one o' th' dowters showed her heead aght o' th' winder an' cried, "Mother, it's wakkened, an' it's suckin'

it's thumb as if it wor clammed to deeath." "Mary," sed th' owd man, "does ta mean to starve that child to deeath? coss if tha cannot luk after it, aw'll luk after it mysel'." This wor th' signal for all to goa inside, an' a bonnier pictur' yo nivver saw nor that war when owd Mary sat wi' that little thing on her lap, givin' it sops, an' three big, strong, but kind-hearted fellows, sat raand, watchin' ivvery bit it tuk as if ther own livin' depended on it. Ther war a gooid deeal o' 'fendin'

an' provin', but whear that child coom fra an' who wor it's mother noabody could tell. Time pa.s.sed, an' as Mary sed th' child thrived like wood, an' ivverybody called it "Burt's Babby." Burt wor a decent, hard-workin' lad, an' had for a long time luk'd longin'ly at one o'

Mary's dowters, an' one day ther wor a stir i' th' village, an' Burt war seen donned up like a dummy at a cloas shop, an' wi' a young woman linked to his arm as if shoo thowt he wor goin' to flyaway, an' it wanted all her weight to keep him daan, an' claise behind, wor th' owd farmer an' his wife, owd Mary Muggin, an' th' little babby.

It didn't tak th' parson monny minits to tee' em together for better an'

for worse, an' then Burt took th' babby an' gave it to his bride, sayin', "Here's summat towards haase keepin' anyway." An' shoo tuk it an' kussed it as if it had been ther own. They went to live at a nice little farm, an' th' owd fowk gave' em a gooid start. Sally Bray had allus shown a fondness for Burt's babby, 'at fowk could hardly accaant for, an' shoo went an' offered her sarvices as sarvant an' nurse, an'

nivver did ony body seem soa fond of a child as Sally did o' that.

Things went on nicely for a while, an' then th' scarlet fever coom; every day saw long sorrowful processions follerin' little coffins, an'

ivery body luk'd sad an' spake low.

At last, Burt's babby wor takken sick, an' all they could do couldn't save it, an' early one mornin' it shut it's een, an' went its way to join those 'at had gone before.

Burt an' his wife wor varry mich troubled, but it war Sally Bray 'at suffered mooast. They couldn't get her to leave that cold still form, soa they left her with it till her grief should be softened; an' when some time had pa.s.sed, they went to call her, but it wor no use, for her spirit had goan to tend Burt's babby.

After shoo wor buried, some papers were picked aght o' one o' Sally's boxes, and it were sed' at they explained all, but what they were Burt an' his wife nivver telled, so it still remains a mystery.

At th' grave side stood a fine young chap, who dropt monny a tear as th'

coffin wor lowered. He wor sed to be verry like that strange sailor 'at had once before visited th' village. When Burt pa.s.sed him he gave him a purse, sayin' "for a gravestone," and went away noabody knew whear. Some sed it was Sally's brother, but noabody seems to know.

Anybody 'at likes to tak a walk an' call at that little graveyard can see a plain stoan 'at says

SALLY BRAY, AN'

BURT'S BABBY.

Mak th' best on't.

They say it taks nine tailors to mak a man. Weel, all aw have to say abaat it is, 'at aw've known some men i' mi time, 'at it ud tak nineteen to mak a tailor. Why some simpletons seem to think 'at they've a right to mak fun ova chap becoss he's a tailor, aw can't see. They're generally praad enuff o' ther clooas--then why not be praad o' th' fowk 'at mak 'em. Ther's a deal o' fowk 'at wodn't be as weel off as they are if it worn't for th' tailors. But it's noa use tawkin, for ther's some 'at couldn't live if they didn't find summat to say a word agean.

A little word 'at's easy sed, Sometimes may heal a smart; A cruel word or luk instead, May help to braik a heart.

Men hang together like a chain, Tho' varied be ther plan; Each link hangs by another link, Man hangs to brother man.

But a gooid word throo some is as scarce as a white crow. They're iverlastingly lukking aght for faults an' failins, an' gooid words an'

gooid deeds are things they niver think are due to onnybody but thersen.

Life's pathway could oft be made pleasant, If fowk wor to foller this plan; Throo a prince ov the throne to a peasant, To do a gooid turn when they can.

But they'll nawther do a gooid turn thersen nor let onybody else do one if they can help it. They seem to be born wi' soa mich eliker i' ther blooid 'at if they come i' contact wi' ony sweet milk o' human kindness, 'at it curdles it. Whether it's ther own fault or th' fault o' ther mother aitin too many saar gooisberries before they wor born aw can't tell. Aw've met some soa ill contrived 'at they wodn't let th' sun s.h.i.+ne on onybody's puttaty patch but ther own if they could help it.

Nah this cla.s.s o' fowk have generally one or two noations o' ther own 'at they think iverybody else owt to be ruled by. One'll be a strict teetotaller, an' consider 'at onybody 'at taks a drop o' drink is gooin to a place whear top coits wiln't be needed. Another belangs to some sect, an' doesn't hesitate to say 'at onybody 'at gooas to a Concert Hall has signed a contract wi' that dark complexioned owd snoozer 'at wears horns an' wags a tail. They've been at th' trouble to chalk aght a line for iverybody else to walk on, tho' they know varry weel 'at they dooant allus keep to it thersen when ther's nubdy lukkin.

Well, let them 'at relish th' saars have' em to ther hearts' content, but dooant try to prevent other fowk havin some o' th' sweets. Aw'm one o' them 'at likes th' sweets best, an' if they'll n.o.bbut let me alooan aw'll promise niver to mell o' them.

Grooanin, mooanin, an' grummelin, is abaat th' warst way o' spendin one's time. If yo come in for a lot o' gooid things, enjoy 'em wol yo've th' chance, an' dooant pa.s.s by ivery flaar 'at smiles along yor path for fear yo may find a twitch-clock i' one. An' if things dooant turn aght just as gooid as yo'd like' em, try to mak th' best o' th' bit o' gooid ther is in 'em.

They tell me this world's full o' trouble, An' each one comes in for a share; An' pleasure they say is a bubble, 'At gooas floating away up in th' air.

But aw'll niver give way to repinin, Tho' th' claads may luk gloomy an' black, For they all have a silvery linin, An' some day shall breeten awr track.

Let other fowk brood o'er ther sorrow, From each day enjoyment we'll borrow, Let to-morrow tak care ov to-morrow, An strive to be happy to-day.

Mrs Spaiktruth's Pairty.

It ud be a gooid thing if somdy could find a remedy for backbitin an'

gossipin:--for lyin an' stailin an' a lot moor things o'th' same sooart 'at's varry common. Last year aw gate an invitation to a woman's tea drinkin, an' ov coa.r.s.e aw went, for aw niver miss a chonce o' enjoyin mysen if aw can do it withaat mich expense. Th' warst o' this do wor' at ther wor noa man amang, em but me, an' aw shouldn't a been thear, but Mistress Spaiktruth wanted me to repoart th' speeches, an' as shoo wor givin th' pairty shoo set at th' end o'th' table an' teem'd aght th'

teah an' Mistress Snipenooas put th' rum in. After iverybody had getten supplied ther wor quietness for abaat five minutes, an' altho' n.o.bdy wanted owt to ait, fatty cakes an' b.u.t.tered m.u.f.fins went aght o'th' seet like winkin. After th' second cup one or two began whisperin a bit, an'

after th' third, it wor like being i' th' middle ov a lot o' geese; they wor all cacklin at once, an' judging bi th' smiles o' ther faces they felt very happy. When th' pots wor sided (an' they'd takken gooid care to leave nowt but th' pots to side), they drew up in a ring raand th'

fire, an' Mrs. Spaiktruth wor put i'th' rockin chair to rule th'

proceedins.

'Nah, la.s.ses,' shoo sed, 'aw havnt mich to say n.o.bbut to tell yo all at yor varry welcome, an' aw hooap yo've all made a gooid drinkin ('we have la.s.s!') 'an aw hooap we shall have some gooid speeches throo some on yo', for aw know thers some gooid tawkers amang yo, but this year's meetin is to be conducted on a different plan to onny we've had befoor.

Ther hasn't to be ony gossipin or backbitin, an' them 'at cannot say a few words withaat scandalizin ther neighbours, blagardin ther own husbands, or throwin aght hints likely to injure sombdy's else, munnot spaik at all.'

When Mrs. Spaiktruth had finished, th' wimmen luk'd one at another, fast what to mak on it. Two or three o'th' older end settled thersen daan for a sleep, an' th' rest luk'd as faal as a mule i' th' sulks. Aw pooled aght mi book to tak daan th' speeches, an' this is my repooart.--

_1st Speech._--'Let's goa la.s.ses.'

_2nd Speech._--'Ther's nowt to stop here for.'

_3rd Speech._--'Aw'll goa too, awm feard o' goin bi mysen i' th'

dark.'

_4th Speech._--'Awr childer'll be waitin for me.'

_5th Speech._--'It's my wes.h.i.+n day to morn, soa aw want to get to bed i' daycent time.'

_6th Speech._--(Five or six at once) 'Come on.'

Th' meetin braik up varry early, an' as sooin as they'd getten aght side, aw heeard 'em sayin 'at Mistress Spaiktruth wor naa better nor shoo should be, an' if shoo thowt shoo could put on airs wi' them shoo wor varry mich mistakken, an' as for gossipin, shoo wor th' longest tongued woman i' th' neighbourhood, an' they declared they'd niver enter a haase shoo kept agean. Aw saw Mrs. Spaiktruth next day, an' aw sed, 'ther worn't mich tawkin at yor teah drinkin last neet,' shoo smiled, but all shoo sed wor 'Silence is better nor slander.'

Why Tommy isn't a Deacon.