Yorksher Puddin Part 44

'Well, then, to be honest, aw dooan't think this will suit yo, for aw'm blessed if aw think ther can be much life left i' this considerin what it's let aght sin aw bowt it. Gooid neet.'

'Gooid neet, owd chap. Cannot ta walk i' th' front an' let it suck thi fingers? It ud be sewer to follow.'

'Happen it wod; but th' chap aw bowt it on suckt me quite enuff withaat lettin th' cauf suck me.'

After that he managed to get hooam wi' it withaat ony moor mishaps. It wor varry lat, an' all th' family wor i' bed, but he detarmined he wodn't goa huntin up an' daan for a stable at that time o' neet, soa he unlocked th' door an' tuk it into th' haase an' teed it fast to th'

wringin machine i' th' back kitchen, an' then he went upstairs to bed.

'Tha'rt varry lat, Dawdles,' sed his wife, 'has ta ridden or walked?'

'Aw walked pairt o' th' way.'

'Has ta browt owt wi' thee?'

'Eea, aw browt a bit o' mait an' aw've left it daan stairs.'

He crept into bed as well as he could, an' in a minit he wor asleep. As th' cauf had had nowt to ait nor drink all th' day it did not feel varry oomfortable, an' in a bit it went 'B-o-o-o-o-o-o-h!'

'Dawdles! Dawdles!' shoo screamed, an' gave him a dig i' th' ribs 'at made him jump agean.

'What's th' matter wi' thee?' he sed.

'Matter enuff! Didn't ta hear yond din? Ther's summat flaysome getten into th' haase.'

'Aw heeard noa din; it's thee 'at's been dreeamin.'

'Dreeamin! Aw've nooan been dreeamin! Ger up an' see what ther is to do!

Thear's a boggard i' th' haase as sewer as aw'm here!'

'Ne'er heed it! goa to sleep an' it'll nooan mell on thee.'

'Sleep! Awst sleep nooan! Awst lig wakken o' purpose to listen. A'a! men havn't a spark o' feelin! Thear, he's snoarin agean.'

'B-o-o-o-o-o-o-h! B-o-o-o-o-o-o-h!'

'Dawdles! Dawdles! wakken, lad; do wakken! It's th' dule hissen an'

nubdy else. A'a! whativver mun we do, an' ther hasn't one o' th' childer been to th' Sunday schooil for a fortnit! Do get up lad, do!'

'Aw tell thee aw shalln't get up as what it is; but aw hooap if he's comed for onybody 'at he'll tak thee furst, an' then aw can get a bit o'

sleep.'

'Tha'rt a brute! an' mi mother allus sed aw should find it aght! But aw'm baan to have yond childer aght o' bed.'

Up shoo jumpt an' went to wakken 'em, an' he wor soa worn aght 'at he dropt off to sleep agean. Sich a hullaballoo as ther wor i' that shop when all th' eight childer wor up, yo nivver heeard, for th' cauf kept at it, an' ther worn't one i' th' lot dar goa to see what it wor. At last they threw up th' chamer winder and skriked wi' all ther might. Th'

neighbours wor up in a crack, an' th' poleese coom runnin to see what ther wor to do.

'Ther's a boggard i' th' haase!' they cried aght. 'Do see what it is, poleeseman, if yo pleeas.'

But as th' door wor lockt, an' nooan on 'em dar goa daan stairs to oppen it, ther wor noa way to do but to braik a winder pane, soa th' poleese smashed one ank stuck his heead an' his lantern in an' lewkt all raand, but ov coorse he could see nowt. But just as he wor baan to back aght th' cauf gave another 'B-o-o-h!' Daan dropt his lantern inside, an' away flew his heead aghtside, an' all th' fowk cluthered raand him an' ax'd him what he'd seen.

'Aw've seen nowt,' he sed, 'but aw've heeard summat.'

One o' th' childer upstairs shaats aght, 'Aw believe it's i'th' back kitchen.' An' away they all ran raand to see if they could see it thear.

Another poleese had come up, soa he gate his lantern an' held it cloise to th' winder, an' ther wor sich a skrike an' a skutter as yo nivver heeard nor saw. Ther wor noa mistak abaat it nah, for they'd all seen it; them 'at hadn't seen th' een had seen th' horns, an' ther wor one or two 'at declared they'd seen a tail. Then they held a long confab as to what they'd better do, an' th' wimmen sed they thowt it wor th' duty o'

th' poleese to goa in an' tak him up whativver he wor; but th' poleese didn't see it, for, sed one on 'em, 'If he's th' chap aw think he is he might tak us daan wol we wor tryin to tak him up.' At last a chap says, 'Aw've a gun, let's shooit him.' They all agreed wi' that, an' he went an' fotched his gun. Ther wor a gooid deeal o' squarin abaat when he coom back, befoor he could get fair aim; but at last th' poleese gate his bull's eye on th' bull's eyes. Bang! it went, an' th' boggard disappeared. Owd Dawdles wor varry saand asleep, but when th' gun went off he wakkened, an' wonderin what could be to do, he pooled on his britches an' ran daan stairs an' oppened th' door just as all th' fowk wor comin raand to try an' get in, for they hadn't a back door.

'We've peppered him his nut whoivver he is,' sed th' poleese.

'Peppered whose nut? What docs ta mean?' sed Owd Dawdles.

'We've shot th' boggard i'th' back kitchen.'

'Boggard be hang'd! Ther's noa boggard i'th' kitchen. It's nowt, n.o.bbut a white bull cauf! Hev yo all lost yor wit?'

Dawdles went to see what wor th' matter an' t'others followed him; but when they saw what a mistak they'd made, the mooast on 'em slink'd off for fear they wud hev to pay for some o'th' damage. Dawdles wor ommost ranty abaat it when he saw it ligged deead, but he said as little as he could, for his furst thowt wor hah mich bra.s.s he could mak on it as it war. 'Well,' he sed, 'it's deead enuff, soa ther's nowt for it but to send for a butcher an' hey it killed, for aw knaw it'll be a bit ov as nice mait as ivver wor etten.' Soa he fotched a butcher an' had it skinned an' dressed, an' as he lukt at it he thowt it happen wodn't turn aght so varry bad after all, an' as th' poleese paid for th' winder, an'

th' wife an' th' childer fettled up withaat sayin' a word, he decided to be as quiet as he could an' mak th' best of his bargain. Th' fact is he thowt it had n.o.bbut sarved it reight, considerin' what a life it had led him th' day befoor. After a bit o' braikfast he set off to see if he could find a customer for it, but th' tale had flown all ovver th'

district, an' whearivver he went he gate soa chaffed abaat it wol he wor fain to go back hooam.

'Nah, la.s.s,' he sed to his wife, 'aw've tried all ovver, an' aw cannot sell a pund o' that cauf, so ther's nowt for it but to set to an ait it, for aw'm detarmined it shalln't be wasted.'

'Why, Dawdles, tha knows we can nivver ait it wol it's sweet.'

'Aw dooan't care whether it's sweet or saar, it'll have to be etten, soa tha'd better set to an' salt it, for ther isn't another aance o' mait comes into this haase till that's etten.'

Shoo did as shoo wor tell'd, an' shoo stew'd th' heead an' made some cauf-heead broth, an' rare an' nice it wor. Next day they had a rooast, an' th' childer sed they wished ther fayther'd buy another cauf when that wor done. It went on varry weel for th' furst wick, but towards th'

end o'th' second they'd rayther ha' seen a boggard walk into th' haase nor another piece o' that cauf walk on to th' table. But Dawdles wor as gooid as his word, an' long befoor it wor done he declared it wor th'

cheapest mait he ivver bowt. But aitin soa mich o' one sooart o' stuff seemed to have a strange-effect o'th' childer, for they fair seem'd to grow gaumless an' th' hair o' ther heead stood up like a caah toppin, an' Dawdles hissen wor terrified if one on 'em complained ov a pain i'

ther heead, for fear th' horns should be buddin'.

'Nah, then, hah long are ta baan to praich,' sed one o'th' chaps 'at had been lissenin' to this tale, 'does ta know 'at it's ommost twelve o'clock?'

'Why, nivver heed! It's th' last day i'th' year, an' we'st all have halliday to-morn. Aw havn't tell'd yo hauf o'th' queer tricks he's noated for yet. Did yo ivver hear tell abaat that umbrella o' his 'at he lost at Bradforth market?'

'Noa an' we dooan't want to hear ony moor to neet,' they sed, as they gate up an' knockt th' ash aght o' ther pipes, 'tha's tell'd us quite enough for a Kursmiss stoary, an' tha mun save th' rest for th' New Year.'

Soa they all trudged off to ther hooams to get a warm supper an' let ther wives sympathise wi' 'em, for havin' to tramp an' tew wol past twelve o'clock at neet to mak a bit ov a livin' for them 'at wor caar'd warm an' comfortable at hooam.

Property Huntin'.

Ther's soa monny different sooarts o' fooils 'at it's hard to tell which is th' warst, an' th' best on us do fooilish things at times. It's varry fooilish for a young chap at's a paand a wick to live at th' rate o'

twenty-five shillin', for hahivver clivver he may be at figures he'll be sure to find hissen in a hobble befoor long. Aw once knew a chap they called "Gentleman d.i.c.k:" he wor n.o.bbut a warp dresser, but to see him ov a neet, when he wor donned up an' walking throo th' streets twirlin' his cane, yo'd ha' taen him to be a gentleman's son at th' varry leeast.

Fowk 'at knew him sed he had to live o' mail porrige all th' wick, an' a red yearin for a treeat on a Sunday, to enable him to get new clooas, an', as it wor, he owed soa monny tailors' bills 'at when he heeard a knock at th' door he allus had to luk aght o'th' chamer winder to see who it wor befoor he dar oppen it. But whativver he had to put up wi he nivver grummeld, an' Setterdy neet an Sundy wor th' time 'at he enjoyed hissen to his heart's content. One day when he wor aght dooin the grand, he met wi a young woman i'th' train gooin to Briggus, an' he showed her soa mich attention wol shoo tuk quite a fancy to him, an' when he ax'd her if he might see her hooam, shoo blushed an' sed shoo didn't mind if he did. Shoo wor a varry nice la.s.s an' dressed as grand as yo'd wish to see an' d.i.c.k sed such nice things to her, an' shoo smiled an' luk'd soa delighted wi him wol he hardly knew what ailed him. When they coom to some gates leeadin to a varry big hall shoo held aght her hand to bid him gooid-bye, for shoo sed, 'I'm at home now.' d.i.c.k begged hard on her to promise to meet him agean, an' at last it wor arranged shoo'd see him next Sundy neet on th' ca.n.a.l bank at Brookfooit. All th' next wick d.i.c.k's mates couldn't tell what to mak on him; he gave ovver singin'

'Slap Bang' an' 'Champagne Charlie,' an' tuk to practisin' 'Gooid-bye, Sweetheart' an' 'Bonny Jean,' an' whenivver he'd a minit or two to spare he wor sc.r.a.pin' his finger nails or twistin' th' two or three hairs 'at he wor tryin to coax into a mustash. Sundy coom at last, an' what wi curlin' his hair, an' practisin' all sooarts o' nods an' bows i'th'

front o'th' lukkin'-gla.s.s it filled up th' furst pairt o'th' day. He started off i' gooid time an' wor at th' meetin' place to a minit, an'