’Into this well soa deep,
   We put thee daan to sleep,
      Farewell owd pump. 
   Tho’ some may thee despise,
   We know tha’rt sure to rise
      Up wi’ a jump. 
   ’Tha’s sarved thi purpose weel,
   An’ all thi neighbors feel
      Sad at thi fate. 
   But as tha’s had thi day,
   This is all we’ve to say,
      Ger aght o’th’ gate.’

After this one on ’em struck up a temperance hymn, an’ bi th’ time they’d getten through an’ th’ owd pump wor sent to its restin place two o’th’ wimmen wor ready wi’ a gallon o’ rum an’ ale mixed, an’ they totted it aght i’ pint pots.  This didn’t go far amang th’ lot, soa they fotched another an another wol ther brass wor done, an’ then separated wi’ heavy hearts an’ rayther leet heeads an’ went to bed, feelin glad to know ’at they’d done all they could towards payin a fittin tribute to an owd friend.

CHAPTER II.

Next day wor a gloomy day i’th’ Hoil-i’th’-Fowld; whether it wor grief for th’ loss o’th’ pump, or th’ effects o’th’ rum an’ ale, aw connot say, but all th’ chaps stopt at hooam, an’ it wor ommost dinner time when they mustered i’th’ middle o’th’ yard, an’ owd Jacob, who’d been puffin at a empty pipe for a long time, luk’d up an’ spake.

‘Lads,’ he sed, ’it seems to me ’at this yard will niver luk like itsen agean, unless we have summat standin up i’th’ middle i’th’ place ov th’ owd pump; an’ aw’ve been tryin to think what it had better be, but aw can’t mak up mi mind abaat it.  What do yo think?’

‘Suppooas we put a tombstun ovver th’ pump,’ sed Elkanah.

‘Tha wants th’ job o’ writin th’ hepitaf, does ta?’ sed Jonas.

’Well, aw dooant think that ud do, for a tombstun is nobbut a varry gloomy sooart ov a thing at th’ best hand.  Nah, what do you say if we have a statty?  Aw think a statty ud look noble an’ inspirin like.’

‘Eea, aw think soa too,’ sed Simeon, ’but who mun we have a statty on?  Mun it be th’ landlord?’

‘Landlord be blow’d!  What mun we have a statty o’ him for?  We see enuff o’ him ivery month when he comes for his rent.’

‘Well, who mun it be?’

’Aw dooant know ’at it matters mich who it is, for they put up stattys to onybody nah days, nobbut we mun pick aght somdy ’at gets a daycent wage, ‘coss he’ll have to find pairt o’th’ brass.  Nah, ther’s Kana thear; he isn’t baat a two or three paand.  Suppooas we put one up to Kana?’

’Why, what’s Kana iver done ‘at he should have a statty?’

‘What difference does that mak?  What’s lots o’ fowk done ’at get stattys?  Worn’t his fayther th’ bell-man for monny a year? an’ didn’t owd Sally his mother, bake the best havvercake ‘at yo could get i’th’ district?  An’ a statty’s a statty noa matter who’s it is?  What says ta Kana?’

‘Well aw dooant know ha mich it’ll cost.  What is it to be made on?’