on him.  He tried to shaat “puttates!” but he nobbut gate hauf way throo, for when he’d sed “put!” he had’nt breeath left to say “tates.”  “This’ll niver do,” he said, “aw mun goa hooam an’ to bed, its noa gooid trailin abaat th’ streets this fashion, a’a, ha badly aw do feel! an’ all’s come on soa sudden!  A’a, man! man! what are ta?—­as sooin as th’ organ strings get aght o’ tune, tha’rt noa moor fit for nor a barrel baght bottom, nor as mich! for they could turn a barrel tother end up; but man! a’a dear a me!” “Gee up, Neddy, aw’m feeard tha’ll sooin have to luk aght for a new maister.”

When Billy gate hooam wi’ his donkey, his mother wor fair capt.  “What’s up, Billy,” shoo sed, “Has ta sell’d up?” “Nay, mother, aw’ve nooan sell’d up, but aw’m ommost done up:  get that bed ready an’ let me lig me daan a bit.”  “Why what’s th’ matter?  Has ta hurt thi or summat?” “Noa, but aw’m varry poorly.”  “Where does ta feel to ail owt, lad!” “Aw dooant know, aw think it’s all ovver me, dooant yo think aw luk ill, mother?” “Luk ill! why tha knows lad, aw dooant think it’s allus safe to judge fowk bi ther luks, but aw mun say aw nivver saw thi lookin better i’ mi life.”  “Why but aw must be poorly, mother, for two or three fowk has tell’d me soa this marnin.”  Just then three or four heeads pop’d off th’ side o’ th’ jawm an’ set up a gurt laff.  Billy luk’d an’ saw it wor th’ same chaps ’at had been tell in him ha ill he luk’d.  “A’a Billy!” sed his mother, “aw wonder when tha’ll leearn a bit o’ wit, tha sees they’ve nobbut been makkin gam on thee.”  “Aw see,” he sed, “but they’ve nooan chaited me soa varry far after all, for aw’m blow’d if aw iver did believe it!  Gee up, Neddy!” an’ away he went to his wark.

But like monny a chap ’at’s considered rayther soft, he worn’t all soft, an’ one bit ov a trick he did is worth tellin.  He’d been aght one day tryin to sell some red yearin, but it seemed as if noabdy wanted owt o’ that sooart that day, an’ as he wor commin back, a lot o’ chaps wor stood at th’ corner o’ th’ fold, an’ one on ’em stop’d him an says, “Ha is it tha’rt bringin thi yearin back agean?” “Coss ther’s noabdy ’ll buy’ em,” sed Billy.  “Well what does ta want for em?” “Aw’l tak owt aw can get, if aw can find a customer, but aw’st net find one here aw know.”  “Come dooant tawk so fast, Billy!” sed th’ chap, winkin at his mates, “ha mich are they worth?” “They should be worth ninepence.”  “Well aw’l bet thee hauf a crown ’at aw can find thee a customer, if tha’ll take what he offers thee for em.”  “Well aw dooant oft bet,” sed Billy, “but aw’l bet thee haulf a craan if tha offers me a price aw’l tak it.”  “Done,” sed th’ chap, an’ th’ stakes wor put into a friend’s hand to hold.  “Nah then!” he sed, “aw’! gie thee a penny for th’ lot.”  “They’re thine,” sed Billy, an’ he handed ’em ovver.  “That’s nooan a bad trade,” he sed, “a penny an’ hauf-a-craan for ninepennorth o’ yearin.”  Th’ chap sa’w ‘at he wor done, an’ he luk’d rayther