They wornt at all backward at bein helpt a second time, and rare gooid suppers they made.  When th’ aitin stuff wor sided, glasses o’ hot punch coom in, for which ivery body paid a share, an’ then one o’th’ chaps propooased th’ health o’th’ gentleman ‘at had given em’ sich a treat.  Another seconded it an’ it wor carried.  Abraham called for th’ name, but they sed that wor a secret, but as he didn’t get up to respond, they’d be mich obliged if Abe wod do so for him.  Abe wor allus fond o’ makkin a speech, soa he wor up in a minit.  ‘Gentlemen,’ he sed, ‘awm glad to see yo,—­yo’ve done justice to what’s been provided, an’ awm sure yo’re varry welcome.’  When he sed this ther wor sich clappin an’ stampin wol he wor foorced to drop it an’ sit daan, an’ he couldn’t help thinkin ‘at noa speech o’ his had made sich an impression befoor.

After gettin warmed up wi punch, he tell’d ’em ’at he expected some sparrib comin th’ next day, an’ it had been his intention to mak a bit ov a doo an’ invite ’em all, but as they’d had sich a supper that neet, he knew they wodn’t enjoy another off th’ same sooart o’ mait, soa he shouldn’t ax ’em.  They all sed they’d had enuff for a week, but they thanked him all th’ same, an’ after singing ’For he’s a jolly gooid fellow,’ they went hooam.—­Next day Abraham wor lukkin aght for his sparrib, but it didn’t come, an’ day after day he wor disappointed, an as th’ chaps laft ivery time he mentioned it, a thowt began to creep into his noddle, ’at he’d been done.—­He niver grumbled, but he’s takken care to have his parcels ’livered at hooam sin then.

A Run ovver th’ Year.

“A gooid beginin maks a gooid endin,” fowk say, soa let’s mak a gooid beginnin o’th year.  But aw dooant altogether agree wi’ thease old sayins, for aw’ve known monny a gooid beginnin ’at’s come to a fearful bad endin, an’ my advice to ony body ’at’s startin owt is, niver crow till th’ finish.  Aw once heeard tell ov a young woman at wor a reglar glaid; one o’ them sooart ‘at nubdy could do owt wi’; tawk abaat taming a shrew! why, net all th’ shrews in Shrewsbury wor a match for her.  But a chap ‘at lived net far off, thowt shoo wor a varry bonny lass, an’ he felt sure he could manage her, soa he went an’ made love in his best fashion, an’ ivery time shoo call’d him a nasty offald scamp, he sed he lov’d hur moor an’ moor; soa at last shoo cooil’d daan, an’ all things were made sweet, an’ befoor long they gate wed.  Ov coorse they’d a few friends to ther drinkin, an’ a bit ov a donce at after, an’ then a drop o’ whisky an’ hot water, an’ when th’ husband had getten a glass or two into him, he began to tell th’ cumpany ha he’d tamed hur.  ‘Why,’ he sed, ‘aw can do owt aw like wi’ her nah, shoo’s as gentle as a lamb.’  ’If that’s thy noation,’ shoo says, ‘th’ sooiner tha gets shut on it an’ th’ better!’ Soa shoo made noa moor to do, but gave him a crack ovver th’ nooas wi’ her naive, an’ in abaat a minit it wor swell’d as big as a cauf blether.  He made a gurt din an’ quavered abaat a bit, but it wor noa use for shoo wor th’ maister on him, an’ ivver after that he let her do as shoo liked, for he sed ’nowt suited him as mich as to see her suit hersen.’  But ther wor fowk ’at used to wink an say, ‘poor beggar!’