Yorkshire Tales Volume I Part 6

The New Year

What a charm ther is abaat owt new; whether it's a new year or a new waist-coit. Aw sometimes try to fancy what sooart ov a world ther'd be if ther wor nowt new.

Solomon sed ther wor nowt new under th' sun; an' he owt to know if onybody did. Maybe he wor reight if we luk at it i' some ways, but aw think it's possible to see it in another leet. If ther wor nowt new, ther'd be nowt to hooap for--nowt to live for but to dee; an' we should lang for that time to come just for th' sake ov a change. Ha anxiously a little child looks forrard to th' time when he's to have a new toy, an' ha he prizes it at furst when he's getten it: but in a while he throws it o' one side an' cries fur summat new. Ha he langs to be as big as his brother, soa's he can have a new bat an' ball; an'

his brother langs for th' time when he can leeave schooil an' goa work for his livin'; an' varry likely his fayther's langin' for th' time when he can live withaat workin'--all on 'em langin for summat new.

Langill' for things new doesn't prevent us lovin' things at's owd. Who isn't praad ov ther owd fayther, as he sits i' tharm-cheer an' tells long tales abaat what he can remember bein' new? An' who doesn't feel a soothin' kind ov a feelin' come ovver him when his mother's kindly warnin' falls on his ear, as shoo tells him "what-iver he does, net to be soa fond ov ivery thing new?" What a love fowk get for "th' owd haase;" but ther's moor o'th' past nor o'th' futur' i' these feelin's, they're not hopeful, an' its hopeful feelin's at keeps th' world a goin', its hooap at maks us keep o'th' look aat for summat fresh.

Aw've heeard fowk wish for things to keep just as they are, they say they dooant want owt new. What a mistak' they mak! They're wishin'

for what ud be th' mooast of a novelty. Things willn't stop as they are, an' it wodn't be reight if they did. It's all weel enuff for them at's feathered ther nest to feel moderate contented, but them at's sufferin' for want ov a meal's mait are all hopin' for a change for th' better. Owd hats an' owd slippers are generally more comfortable nor new ens, an' fowk "wish they'd niver be done,"--"they hate owt new"--as if it wodn't be summat new if they could wear 'em withaat 'em bein' done. Young fowk are allus moor anxious for changes nor owd fowk, its likely enuff; like a child wi' a pictur book, watch him turn ovver two or three leaves at th' beginnin', see ha delighted he is; but in a while he turns ovver moor carelessly, an' befoor he gets to th' end he leaves it, wearied with its variety, or falls hard asleep opposite one at wod have fascinated him when he began. Life's n.o.bbut a pictur' book ov another sooart, at th' beginnin' we're delighted wi' ivery fresh leeaf, an' we keep turnin' ovver till at last we get wearied, an' had rayther sit quietly looking at one. But we cannot stop, we ha' to goo throo th' book whether we like it or net, until at last we shut us een an' fall asleep over summat new.

Valentine Day

Ha monny young folk are langin for th' fourteenth o' February! An ha mony old pooastmen wish it ud niver come? Sawr owd maids an' crusty owd bachelors wonder 'at fowk should have noa moor sense nor to waste ther bra.s.s on sich like nonsense. But it's noa use them talkin', for young fowk have done it befoor time, an' as long as it's i'th' natur on 'em to love one another an' get wed, soa long will valentine makers have plenty to do at this time o'th' year. Ther's monny a daycent sooart of a young chap at thinks he could like to mak up to a young la.s.s at he's met at th' chapel or some other place, but as sooin as he gets at th' side on her, he caant screw his courage up to th' stickin' place, an' he axes her some sooart ov a gaumless question, sich as "ha's your mother," or summat he cares noa moor abaat. An' as sooin as he gets to hissell he's fit to pail his heead agean th' jaumstooan for bien sich a fooil. Well, nah, what can sich a chap do? Why, send her a valentine ov coorse. Soa he gooas an'

buys her one wi' a grand piece ov poetry like this:--

"The rose is red, the violet's blue, The pink is sweet, and so are you."

It isn't to be expected 'at shoo can tell whear it's come throo; but shoo could guess at twice, an guess puddin' once, that's the beauty on it. Then th' way's oppen'd aat at once, he's gein her to understand what ten to one shoo understood long afoor he did. Next time they meet shoo's sure to ax him if he gate ony valentines, an'

then he'll smile an' say, "What for, did yo?" An' shoo'll show him th' direction, an' ax him if he knows who's writing that is? An'

he'll luk at it as sackless as if he didn't know it wor his own-- ther heeads get cloise together, an' shoo sighs an' he sighs, an'

then, if ther's noabody abaat he'll give hur a smack with his lips an' lawp back as if he'd burned th' skin off 'em, an' shooo axes him ha he con fashion to goa on like that, he owt to be ashamed ov his face? An' all th' time shoo's wonderin' why he niver did it afoor.

Then, if ther's owt abaat him, it isn't long befoor ther's a weddin', an' then he's begun life. He's settled into his nook i'th' world, an'

he feels he's a man. Troubles come, but then ther's a pleasure i'

bein able to maister 'em. He's summat to wark for besides his own belly an' back. He's a heart-expandin' responsibility put on him.

His country benefits by him, for a man does moor for his country 'at leaves ten weel-trained sons an' dowters nor him 'at leaves ten thaasand paand. Then if sich a little simple thing as a valentine can help a chap on his rooad in lite, aw say.

Be hanged to th' Grumblers, goa a head Valentine Makkers!!!

March Winds

These winds blow rayther strong--stronger sometimes nor what feels pleasant. Ther's monny a chap has a race wi' his hat, an' it luks a sheepish sooart ov a trick, an' iverybody can affooard to laff at him just becoss it isn't them. But for all that aw alus think at th'

year's niver getten a reight start till after March. It's like as if it comes bl.u.s.terin' an' rooarin', just o' purpose to put things into reight trim. It fotches daan th' owd watter spaats, an' lets fowk know whear ther's a slate at's shakey. It gives th' trees a bit ov a whisk raand an' wuthers abaat as if it wor detarmined to clear all th' maase nooks aat, an' give us a fair start for th' fine weather. But that isn't all it does; it finds aat if yo've ony owd teeth 'at's rayther tender, (an' if ther's owt i'th' world at 'll wear aat a chap's patience its th' tooith wark. Its bad enuff, but what maks it war to bide is, iverybody can tell yo ha to cure it, an' for all that they wor as fast what to do wi' it when they had it as onybody else.) But what does it matter if it does find aat bits o' waik spots, there's nowt like knowin whear they are, for then yo do stand a chonce o'

bein' able to tak care on 'em. But it does summat else beside--it brings a fine day or two--an' th' gra.s.s begins to luk a trifle greener, an' here an' thear i' bits o' shady nooks an' corners sometimes yo can find a daisy or two; an' what is ther luks bonnier nor th' first daisy yo find peepin up? It may be a bit ov a pindered lookin thing, but its a daisy; an' aw dooant think at th' grandest yo'll find all th' year 'll please yo hauf as weel as this. Little children clap ther hands when they see it, becoss it tells 'em ther's some fine weather comin' bye an' bye; an' they pluck it to tak hooam wi' em' to show ther mother; an' ther grandfayther smiles when he sees it, for it whispers a bit o' comfort to him, an' tells him to cheer up! for th' time o'th' year's comin' when he'll be able to goa aat o'th' door an' sit o'th green gra.s.s, an' hear th' burds sing, an' let th' sun shine on his face, an' he willn't be feeard o' bringin' th'

rhumatic back wi' him; an' takkin it altogether it's one o' th' mooast pleasin' things i' th' year is findin' a daisy i' March. It's strange ha folk alter in a few years time. Luk at a child when its abaat five or six years owd--see ha delighted it is wi' a gurt bunch ov innocent lukkin' b.u.t.tercups an' daisies. Noatice th' same child when he's getten fourteen or fifteen years owd. He couldn't fashion to be seen carryin' a bunch. See him agean when he's a man. He's noa time for daisies then. What's th' reason? Daisies are as bonny nah as iver they wor. Ther is a difference somewhear, but it isn't i'th' daisies.

April Fooils

Niver try to mak a fooil ov onybody this month; ther's fooils enuff i'th world already. It's oft struck me what a varry slight difference ther is between a wise man and a fooil; one aims at summat an' hits it--tother aims at summat an' misses it; an' aw have known th' time when th' chap 'at's missed has been worth a dozen sich like as him 'at's. .h.i.t. But th' world generally sets 'em daan to be wise men 'at happen to be lucky men, an' get hold o' lots o' bra.s.s. An' ha monny brains a chap has, if he can't spooart a pair o' kid gloves an' a daycent hat, he mun niver hope for owt better nor to tak his place amang th' fooils. Aw've monny a time thowt when aw've heared fowk settin a chap daan as a fooil;--talk prattley--may be if he wor weighed up he's a better man nor yo this minit; yo connot tell all 'at he may have had to struggle wi'--

Circ.u.mstances alter cases, Th' same as nooases alter faces.

An' it's as weel to exercise a bit ov charity towards them 'at's set daan to be fooils. "Young fowk think old fowk fooils, an' old fowk's sure young uns is." An aw believe th' old fowk are oft varry near th'

mark,--for th' experience of a life time is little moor nor livin to know what fooils we've been; an' if iver aw meet wi' a chap 'at can't remember iver makkin a fooil ov hissen, aw shall expect to hear tell on' him bein ta'en to th' blue slates directly. Poor Richard says, "Experience is a dear schooil, but fooils will leearn i' noa other;"

an' who is ther 'at hasn't had to leearn i' that schooil? Its a hard maister, an' we're apt to think, when we're under him, 'at he's war wi' us nor onybody else; but when we've getten th' lessen off by heart we find th' advantage on it. But ov all th' fooils it has been my luck to meet wi,' them chaps 'at knows all are th' biggest. There's some fowk think they're born wi' all th' wit i'th world, an' noabody can taich 'em owt; whativer yo tell' em, they've allus "known that long enuff sin'," or else they've "just been think in soa." Aw once knew one o' that Sooart--one 'at had allus been thinkin soa. One day some mates o' mine an' me thowt we cud like a marlock wi' him, an soa we gooas up to him an says, "A'a Jooanas! whativer does ta think?"

"Nay," he says, "whativer will yo say? What's up?" "Why," aw says, "Jim Hyn's dunkey's swallow'd th' grinelstooan." "Well, if aw hadn't just been thinkin soa," says Jooanas. "Well, but tha thowt wrang, owd boy, this time," aw says, "for it hasn't." "Why," he said, "aw hardly thowt it had." Soa he had us at booath ends. They say it taks a wise man to mak a fooil, but aw think ther's enuff withaat makkin ony moor, an aw niver knew a fooil i' my life at didn't think ivery body else a little bit war cracked nor hissen.

Policeman's Sc.r.a.pe

Tawkin abaat policemen reminds me ov a mess one on 'em gate into a while sin. Aw shalln't tell awther his name or his number, becoss it's net my wish to get ony body into trouble. It's enuff for me to say he's a gooid-lukkin chap, an' if he isn't wed his wife is. He wor on neet duty, an' at one o' th' haases he had to pa.s.s, lived a fine buxom sarvent. Policemen have allus been nooated for havin a fancy for sarvents, an' this wor like th' rest, an' befoor long they grew soa friendly 'at shoo used to invite him in after th' maister an' th'

mistress had gooan to bed. One neet he'd crept in, an' they wor whisperin varry lovinly together, when shoo tell'd him ther wor noa cold mait o' ony sooart. "Awm glad on it," he sed, "for awm stoled o'

cold stuff. That luks a bit o' nice bacon at's hung up, does ta think tha could do me a bit anent th' fire, aw think ther's as mich heeat as'll cook it?"

"Well, Robert," shoo sed, "if yo'll sit daan an' wait awl try."

Soa he put his lantern onto th' table an' sat daan wol shoo gate a little dutch oven an hooked two nice collops in; but shoo fancied shoo could enjoy one hersen, soa shoo stept up into a cheer to cut off another, an' as shoo'd th' knife i' one hand an' cannel i' th' tother shoo ovverbalanced hersen, and fell onto th' floor, settin up sich a skrike as yo niver heeard. Th' 'cannel went aat when it fell an all wor as dark as pitch, and Robert hearin th' maister skutterin daan th'

stairs thowt his best plan wor to hook it; soa he grab'd up his lantern for owt he knew an buckled it on as he wor hurryin up th'

steps. He'd hardly left when th' maister runs aat in his shirt, callin aat, "Police! police!" Robert comes fussin on as if he knew nowt abaat it, an' went back wi' th' maister, who wor soa freetened wol he darn't spaik.

When they went in th' sarvent had sam'd hersen up, an lit th' cannel agean; but th' la.s.s forgate her fall an' th' maister his fright, when they lukd at th' policeman an' saw he'd getten th' dutch oven i' th'

front on him astead ov his lantern, an' two bacon collops swingin in it.

They settled th' matter amang thersens, but it towt that policeman niver to tak off his lantern until he'd done wi' it.

Information

Divine Service was held in the Temperance Hall, when the celebrated Dr. Foaming Drinkwater preached from the text Exodus 16 ch. 33 v., "And Moses said unto Aaron, take a pot," and in an eloquent sermon of 1h. 55m. the Revd. lecturer clearly showed that a pot of beer was not alluded to in the text. Collections were made at the close of the service.

Watterin Places

July is th' month to gooa a spawin'; an' fowk luk forrard to it just th' same as if they conldn't do withaat it. Th' fact is aw hardly dar say owt agean it, for awm fond ov a bit ov a off mysen; but then ther's different ways o' dooin it. A chap at gethers horsemuck at hooam needn't want to mak' fowk believe he's th' Lord Mayor o' London abrooad. Aw remember once when aw wur at a watterin' place, aw followed some fine young ladies an' wished 'em "gooid day;" aw wornt exactly sure whether one on 'em mightn't be th' Princess o' Wales or net, but haasumiver, they curled up ther nooas th' same as if they'd pa.s.sed a fooamet. But in abaat a wick at after, aw met one on 'em gooin ovver th' North Brigg wi' a slice o' traitle cake in her hand, varry near like th' door ov a mahogany shut-up-bed, an' up to th'

elbows i' Miln greease too. Aw thowt if ony body wanted to pick a la.s.s for a wife they shouldn't goa to a spawin' spot. For all that, awve nowt to say agean it--one body's as mich reight to goa an get sunburnt as another; but they mud as weel spaik truth, an' not allus say it's for th' gooid o' ther health, when all th' time it's just for a bit ov a spree. Aw could give some gooid advice to ony body at thinks o' gooin. Tak varry little bra.s.s, an' let it be i' your pocket, net i' yor face. Th' less yo have an' th' less yo'll spend.

Dooant buy patent booits to walk o' th' sand in. If you're anxious to ride in a c.o.c.k booat, dooant be particler to wear white trowsers. If yo want a horse to ride, tak one wi yo--it 'll save yo a deeal o'

disappointment; if yo want a donkey, settle ha mony legs yo could like it to have, an' yo'll find plenty. Be careful noabody taks a fancy to yo th' same way. Ther's as mony donkeys wi' two legs as four, an' a bonny seet mooar. Talkin' abaat th' number o' legs maks me think ov a chap at considered hissen rayther a sharp en; he'd a bit ov a garden an' some cherry trees in it, an' one mornin' when he gate aat o' bed he fan somdy had saved him th' trouble o' getherin' th' fruit; they'd done it for him woll he wor asleep. He coom an' tell'd th' tale to me. "A'a," he said, "if he could n.o.bbut find aat who'd done it, he'd stransport 'em over th' seah' that he wod!" "Why," aw says, "tha knows burds is varry fond o' cherries, an' its happen th' burds." "Burds!"

he said, an' he winked at me varry knowingly. "Burds! happen they wor burds--but they wor two-legged ens aw'll bet." Aw niver thowt him quite so sharp after that.

Nah just a word bi way of a caution. A chap 'at's two paand i' debt an' goas an' spends three paand at a watterin' place, maks hiss en five paand behund; whereas if he'd paid what he owed he'd still ha had one paand to spend, an' that ud goa as far o' th' top o' Blackstonedge as three paand at Blackpool. It's worth a thowt.

Flaar Shows

When ther's a flaar show, clooas show at th' same time. Aw hear fowk tawk abaat "floral gems," and sich like stuff, but aw understand varry little abaat it. But aw've a few gems ov another sooart at sich times--aw call 'em gems o' thowt. Aw'm allus wonderin. Aw wonder a deal aw've noa business to wonder. When aw see a lot o' nice young la.s.ses i' muslin dresses, all spankin clean, an ommost makkin a chap wish he worn't wed--aw wonder if ther petticoits an' stockins is as cleean. An when aw see a lot o' white faced lads, 'a'ts hardly getten ther hippins off, smokin cigars, an' spittin o'th' floor ivery two or three yards,--aw wonder if they dooant wish they wor finished, an' aw wonder what ther mothers is dooin to let 'em aat by thersen. An' when aw hear tell ha mich bra.s.s they get at th' doors, aw wonder ha mich on it wor borrow'd to goa wi'--an' sometimes aw wonder what they do wi'

it after they've getten it--but that's noa business o' mine;--its a hungary job, aw know. Aw mony a time wonder, when aw hear th' bands o' music strike up, what Lord Byron ment when he said, "When music arose with its voluptuous swell;" for aw've booath seen an' heeard monny a voluptuous swell at a flaar show. An' aw wonder sometimes ha it is 'at fowk 'at goa wi a shawl o' ther heead to pick aat a sheep heead i'th' market, can't be content unless they're donned i' silks an' satins to goa see a twoathree marrygolds an' fushias. An'

sometimes aw wonder 'what i'th' name o' fortun aw'm dooin thear mysen, an' if anybody axes me, aw wonder what business it is o' their's;--an'

its just a case o' wonderin throo beginnin to th' endin', an' aw wonder when fowk 'll leearn a bit o' wit. Aw wonder if fowk think th'

same abaat me. Aw wonder if they do. Aw shouldn't wonder if they did.

October Ale

They reckon to brew a gooid sup o' ale in October, an' they call it "Prime owd October." Ther's monny a war thing i'th' world nor a sup o' gooid drink. Landlords an' teetotal-lecturers manage to get a livin' aat on it some way;--but it's th' same wi' ale as wi'

iverything else nah days,--it's nowt made on unless it's sharp. It's a sharp age we live in;--hand-loom waivin' an' stage coaches are all too slow; iverybody an' iverything keeps growin' sharper. But we arn't as sharp as what they are i' 'Merica yet--they're too sharp.

They tell me they ha' to lapp thersen up i' haybands afoor they goa to bed, for fear o' cuttin' th' sheets. Aw heeard tell o' one chap runnin' a race wi' a flash o' leetnin', an' they say he'd ha' won but for one ov his gallus b.u.t.tons comin' off. An' another 'at used to mak leather garters an' throw 'em ovver his heead, an' he could mak 'em soa sharp 'at he allus kept one pair flyin'. He worn't a bad hand at his job, he worn't that. One day aw axed a chap 'at had been, "if they wor raylee as sharp as what fowk gave 'em credit for?" "Why," he says, "they wor sharper nor aw liked on, or else aw shouldn't ha' come back; but aw couldn't get on noa rooad: aw tried two or three different trades, but aw made nowt aat, an' at last aw set up as tubthumper; but that wodn't do. They niver wanted ought makkin'-- they wor too sharp for that; they allus brought yo summat to mend;-- becoss they knew a chap couldn't charge as mich for mendin' an owd tub as for makkin' a new en; soa if they'd ony sooart ov a owd tub lagg, or a piece of a barrel bottom, they browt it to get mended into a new tub. Aw did as weel as aw could amang it; but one day a chap comes in an' says, 'Aw want yo to do a bit o' repairin' for me.' 'Varry gooid, sur,' says aw, 'an' what might yo be wantin?' 'Well,' he says, 'aw've an owd bung hoil here, do yo think yo could fit me a fresh barrel to it?' Aw niver spake for a minit, then aw says, 'wod yo be gooid enuff to lend me a hand to put theas shuts up?' 'Wi' pleasure, sur,' he said, an' he did, an' aw left th' job an' coom hooam, for aw thowt they wor rayther too sharp." Mun, a chap can be too sharp sometimes.

My advice is, be as sharp as yo like, if yo're sharp in a reight way, but thers some things it's as weel to be slow abaat. Be slow to do a shabby trick, an' be sharp to help a poor body 'at needs it. Be slow to see other fowk's faults, an' be sharp to improve yor own. Be slow to scandalise yor neighbors, an' keep a sharp luk aat to steer clear ov iverybody else's business; yo'll find it 'll give yo moor time to luk after yor own.