Yorksher Puddin Part 32

Alick wor standin lukkin raand in a sackless sooart ov a way, when all at once he spied th' widder amang 'em, soa ponitin her aght he sed, 'Jack's widder thear can tell yo all abaat it, it's been made up between them two, an' a varry gooid pair they'll mak, an' if he cannot shave her, shoo'll be able to lather him. Tha knows awm a man o' mi word, Hannah Maria, an' aw sed aw'd bring him.'

All th' nooatice th' widder tuk wor to shak her neive in his face, an'

as they all could see ha drunk Alick wor, they left him standin wol they locked all th' doors an' prepared to have a hunt for th' chap 'at had run up stairs. But Tommy wor detarmined net to be catched if he could help' it, an' a fine race he led' em, for he flew ovver th' pews like a cat, an' as th' door-keeper, an' pew oppener, an' th' parson ran after him, th' wimmen kept gettin into ther rooad, an' ovver they tummeld knockin th' cannels aght as they fell, an' of all th' skrikin an'

screamin yo iver heeard, it licked all.

Alick wor bi hissen daan stairs, an' wor feelin rayther misty amahg it, but when he heard all th' noise he bethowt him 'at it must be a pairt o'th' ceremony, an' he began to feel excited.

'Keep it up owd lad! Gooid lad Tommy! Thar't a c.o.c.k burd! By gow I tha niver should ha been a barber! Two hauf-craans to one on th' little en!'

But they catched him at last; an' as they didn't know who it wor, an' he wor soa covered wi' muck an dust wol it wor hard to tell, they browt him daan stairs whear ther wor a better leet.

When th' parson saw who it wor he could hardly believe his een, an' all t' others put ther hands as if they thowt th' roof worn't safe.

'Thomas,' sed th' parson solemnly, 'I'm sorry to see thou hast fallen.

Thy race here is run.'

'Well, he ran weel didn't he?' sed Alick. Ther wor moor nor him fell i'

that race, or else ther wor a deeal o' skrikin for nowt. But it just suits me, aw wodn't ha missed it for a s.h.i.+llin! aw wor niver at th'

makkin ov a deacon afoor, it's three times as mich fun as makkin a free mason.'

Tommy tried to spaik, but he wor soa aght o' wind wol he couldn't say a word, an' as sooin as th' doors wor oppened he made a bolt for hooam.

Alick follerd him, but fan th' door locked, soa he went hooam too.

Next mornin, nawt her on 'em could exactly tell what had happened th'

neet afoor, but Alick went to pay Tommy a visit. What wor sed aw dooant know, but they tell me 'at Alick's shaved hissen iver sin, for he doesn't seem to like th' idea o' Tommy bein soa varry near him wi' a razor.

Ov course Tommy worn't made a deacon, an' what wor war nor all he lost th' widder into th' bargain.

They did try to get him to join th' Good Templars; an' Alick sed if he wanted to be a member he'd promise to see' at he wor thear i' time if he had to sit up another neet for it; 'an tha knows awm a man o' mi word, doesn't ta, Tommy?'

But someha or other Tommy seems content to stop as he is, but if yo should iver give him a call, aw wodn't advise yo to say owt abaat him bein made deacon, for th' thowts on it seems to be like th' black pudding he had at th' burrin drinkin,--varry heavy on his stummack, an'

all th' gin an' watter he's been able to get has niver swilled it daan.

Hannah Maria's getten wed agean; shoo wor as gooid as her word.--shoo wed a local praicher; but as his labours didn't seem to profit him mich, he left th' connexion, an' wi' Hannah Maria's bit o' bra.s.s he bowt th'

valiation o'th 'Purrin p.u.s.s.ycat' public haase, an' shoo tends th' bar wi' as mich red ribbon flyin raand her heead as ud mak reins for a six-horse team. Tommy called once, but when he saw th' picture frame 'at he'd taen soa mich pains wi' for Jack's funeral card hung up wi' a ticket in it sayin 'prime pop,' he supt up his rum an' walked sorrowfully aght, withaat payin for it, an' he's niver been seen thear sin.

One Amang th' Rest.

I cannot say that the birth of Sally Green was heralded with many joyful antic.i.p.ations. Her father was one of those unfortunate men who have never had any trade taught to them, and his income, always small, was also very precarious. One day you might find him distributing circulars, another, acting as porter; at times he got a stray job as gardener, and was always willing to undertake almost any thing by which to earn an honest penny. His wife had for many years been a sickly woman, yet she was fruitful, as was proved by the six children who with laughter or tears, as the case might be, welcomed their father home.

"Old Tip," as he was familiarly called both at home and abroad, was sitting opposite the fire, smoking an old clay pipe, when the news was brought that little Sally was born, and both mother and babe were doing well. He answered simply, "Ho!" "An' is that all tha has to say when tha's getten another dowter, an' one o' th' grandest childer aw think'

at wor iver born?"

"Well, what am aw to say? It's all reight, isn't it? Shoo'll be one amang th' rest."

Although Tip appeared to treat the event with such indifference, yet his mind was ill at ease, for he well knew that his scanty means had barely sufficed to find food for those dependent upon him before time, and an additional mouth to provide for was by no means a thing to be desired.

There is an old saying, that G.o.d never sends a mouth without sending something to put in it, and that is very true, but it is just possible that the food sent to put in it is appropriated to some other mouth, that has already got above its share. If this was not so, we should be spared the pain of reading the heartrending accounts that are so frequently brought under our notice of people being "starved to death."

It is not my intention to detail all the little incidents connected with Sally's early years; suffice it to say that she was dragged up somehow, along with her brothers and sisters, who as they got older and able to work and earn a wage sufficient to support themselves, left one by one to depend upon their own exertions, but never once giving a thought to the debt of grat.i.tude they owed to those, who had laboured so long, and endured so many troubles for their sakes.

In time Sally was old enough to be put to some business, and as she had all along been of a weaker const.i.tution than her sisters, it was deemed advisable to select some occupation for her of a lighter description.

Accordingly she soon found herself placed with a shopkeeper in the town, to learn the mysteries of concocting bonnets, caps, &c. The money she received at the commencement was very little, but doubtless was a just equivalent for her labours; but her parents, whose income had decreased with their increasing years, had often to suffer privations, in order to dress Sally as became her position. Sally was naturally quick of apprehension, and the old folks' hearts were often cheered by the reports of her advancement.

"It maks me thankful monny a time i'th' day, Tip, to think ha Sally taks to her wark; an' tha sees shoo's soa steady an' niver braiks ony time, an' aw connot help thinkin, 'at may be, shoo'll net only be a comfort to us in old age, but a varry gurt help."

"Shoo's steady enough," said Tip, "but aw dooant think its wise to build ony castles i'th' air abaat her helpin us mich. Th' kitten seldom brings th' old cat a maase. Nooan o' th' brothers has iver done owt for us,--net 'at aw want owt, net aw; but aw know 'at we've had to do a deeal for them, an' it luks rayther hard, at they should niver think abaat payin a trifle back; an' awm feeared Sally 'll be one amang th'

rest."

"Happen net. Tha wor allus fond o' lukkin o'th' dark side."

"Aw may weel be fond o' lukkin at it, for awve seen varry little o'th'

breet en."

Sally continued to progress, and her employer was not slow to recognize her abilities and increase her wages in proportion. She often indulged in dreams of what she would do for her parents, as soon as she was able, but as yet her own wants were so very pressing, that it took all her money to satisfy them. She saw and admired her fellow-workers, as they entered or left the place of business, dressed in such clothes as she had never had, and such as it must be some time before she could hope to obtain. But she clung to the hope that the time would come, and she strained every nerve to hasten its approach. Though by no means vain, yet it was quite evident, Sally was aware she was as much her companions' superior, in personal attractions, as they were her superiors in point of dress, and it is to be feared, that there were times when she consulted her mirror with exultation, and painted in her imagination pictures how she could outs.h.i.+ne them all when the time came.

By degrees almost imperceptible, crept in a dislike to her home;--not to those who owned it, far from it. To her parents she was still loving and dutiful, but she began to conceive that her own attempts to improve her appearance, her manner of speaking, and her general carriage, were strangely at variance with her humble home and its belongings. Happily, those precepts most potent to restrain any waywardness or wickedness, had been early instilled into her by her mother, whose quiet christian life had been her daily example. Her religion was pure and simple, and she never failed to impress upon Sally the happiness to be derived from an adherence to the truth, and a faith in the goodness of G.o.d.

Years rolled on, and the slightly built girl was developed into the beautiful woman. She occupied the second position in the work-room, and her love of dress she was enabled to gratify to its full extent. Many a young man lingered about the door of the shop at night, in hopes of catching a smile or some mark of encouragement, but Sally's heart was free, respectful to all, but showing partiality to none, she pa.s.sed on scathless through many temptations that might have proved too strong for many older than herself.

One night a strange event occurred. As she was hurrying home, and had arrived within a few yards of the door, she stumbled over some object in her path, and it was with much difficulty she succeeded in saving herself from an awkward fall. It was too dark to see what the object was, but she ran into the house, acquainted her parents with the event, and accompanied by them bearing a light she returned to see what the obstacle was. Across the pavement was laid a young man, about her own age, in a helpless, perhaps a dying state.

"Poor thing! what's th' matter wi' him?" sed her mother; "Tip, lift him up an' hug him in th' haase, an' see what's to do! He's somebody's poor lad."

Tip was not quite so strong as he had been, but he was yet strong enough for the emergency: and lifting up the slim young man, he bore him into the house and laid him on the longsettle.

"What does ta think is th' matter wi' him?" asked the mother; "Is he hurt?"

"Noa."

"Why, has he had a fit thinks ta?"

"Aw think he has, an' it'll be some time befoor he comes aat on it, for its a druffen fit."

"A'a, tha doesn't say soa, Tip! does ta?" "Its ten thaasand pities to see him i' that state!"

Sally approached him half in fear and half in anxiety, and after scanning his features, which in spite of the dirt and the drink were yet handsome, she turned to her father and asked, "What shall we do with him?"

"We shall be like to tak care on him, la.s.s, wol he sleeps it off aw expect, for we connot turn him aat, an' if we did th' police wod lock him up. Awve suffered a deeal i' mi lifetime wi' my lads, but awve niver seen one on 'em i' that state, an' awd rayther follow 'em to th' grave nor iver do it."

For hours they sat beside the sleeping man, and when it was far past their usual time of retiring to rest, they looked at each other, mutely asking what would be best to do.

"Father and mother," said Sally, "it is time you went to bed; I know you cannot bear to miss your accustomed rest. I will watch by this young man until he awakes, and so soon as he is fit to leave the house he shall do so, and then I can get an hour's sleep before the shop opens in the morning; I do not think he will sleep long now."