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diff --git a/old/62999-0.txt b/old/62999-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 2f2a072..0000000 --- a/old/62999-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,22836 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Wit, Character, Folklore and Customs of the -North Riding of Yorkshire, by Richard Blakeborough - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: Wit, Character, Folklore and Customs of the North Riding of Yorkshire - With a Glossary of over 4,000 Words and Idioms Now in Use - -Author: Richard Blakeborough - -Release Date: August 21, 2020 [EBook #62999] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NORTH RIDING OF YORKSHIRE *** - - - - -Produced by Brian Coe, Les Galloway and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - Transcriber’s Notes - -Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. Variations -in hyphenation and accents have been standardised but all other -spelling and punctuation remains unchanged. - -On page 262 - ‘To leeak a bad leeak’ = to leeak ill. has been changed to - ‘To leeak a bad leeak’ = to look ill. - -The footnotes are located at the end of the book. - -The book begins with an extensive list of subscribers immediatly after -the table of contents. This has been moved to the end. - -Italics are represented thus _italic_, bold thus +bold+ and -superscripts thus y^{en}. - - - - - WIT, CHARACTER, FOLKLORE - AND CUSTOMS - OF THE - NORTH RIDING OF YORKSHIRE - - - - - Oxford - HORACE HART, PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY - - - - - _Wit - Character, Folklore & Customs_ - OF THE - NORTH RIDING OF YORKSHIRE - - WITH - _A GLOSSARY OF OVER 4,000 WORDS AND IDIOMS - NOW IN USE_ - - BY - RICHARD BLAKEBOROUGH - (SOCIETY HUMORIST) - LATE HON. CURATOR OF THE R.S.S.; AUTHOR OF ‘MORE THAN A DREAM,’ - ‘T’ HUNT O’ YATTON BRIGG,’ THE COMEDIES ‘TOMBOY,’ ‘AUNTIE,’ ETC. - - London - HENRY FROWDE - OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS WAREHOUSE - AMEN CORNER, E.C. - 1898 - - - - - THIS WORK - IS DEDICATED TO - THE - REV. E. S. CARTER, M.A. - OF YORK - AND - J. G. WILSON, M.A. - OF DURHAM - AS A MEMENTO OF SINCERE GRATITUDE - FOR MANY ACTS OF FRIENDSHIP - SHOWN TO - THE AUTHOR - - - - -PREFACE - - -At one time it was thought possible for the present work to be -undertaken conjointly by the Rev. M. C. F. Morris, author of _Yorkshire -Folk-Talk_, and myself. Such collaboration, though pleasing to both, -was found to be quite impracticable. Many of my patrons and friends -having urged me to undertake the work single-handed, I have ventured to -do so. I have aimed at no higher standard than the chatty style which -I have adopted in drawing-rooms and on the platform. If friends and -critics prove but half as kind and considerate in this new venture as -they have hitherto done, I have little to fear. My main object has been -simply to place on record, in, I hope, a readable form, some of the -wit, character, customs, and folklore of the North Riding which I have -thought to be sufficiently interesting and worthy of being saved from -that long list of things forgotten. - -The chapter on some characteristic sayings of both the North and East -Ridings, kindly contributed by the Rev. M. C. F. Morris, will add -greatly to the value and interest of the work. I may here mention that -he is in no way answerable for any other single sentence throughout -the work. I feel it to be my duty to make this quite clear, for, as a -humorist, I have ventured to include certain items which the reverend -gentleman most probably would have run his pen through, had either the -MS. or proof-sheets passed through his hands. - -The Glossary, though far from containing all the words of our North -Riding folk-speech, is as complete as it has been possible for me to -make it. - -My thanks are due to Mr. Atkinson and to Mr. Morris, whose glossaries -I have frequently consulted, and in no less a degree to my friend Dr. -Johnson of Lancaster for his MS. notes, so generously lent me. - -I have done my best, and if my literary repast is not set before my -readers with the usual glitter of silver and cut glass, I would humbly -remind them that the fare has been fairly stalked and prepared with -all due care as to accuracy, and cooked and served with the best of -everything my literary kitchen possesses. - -Many stories illustrative of Yorkshire character and humour are given, -mostly gathered from original sources covering a period of many years, -and in the main are true. None of them, I believe, have hitherto been -published, and very few contained in these pages have I given publicly. - -The stories afford numerous examples of the idiom and dialect as spoken -in the North Riding, but mainly (as to dialect) in that of Cleveland. -The reason for specializing that district is given elsewhere. - -To the scores of happy hours spent with both old and young by their own -firesides, I owe the contents of this book. Nearly all it contains they -have given me: to them I return my warmest thanks. - -One other word—should a copy of this work find its way into other -lands, and be read by any of my Yorkshire colonial cousins, to them I -sincerely offer the grip of friendship. And should any of our Yorkshire -words have gained a footing on other soil, I shall be grateful for a -list of the same. - -To many of my subscribers I owe a lasting debt of gratitude for that -kindness and cordiality which at once made me one of their house party -when staying with them as Society Humorist, and also for the kind -letters of encouragement they were so good as to send me in the early -stage of my work, and to one and all I now offer my most sincere thanks -for their cordial replies in answer to my circular. - -In conclusion, should this work bring conviction that the Riding ought -to have a Folklore and Dialectical Society identified with itself, I -shall not have written in vain, and it would have my hearty if humble -support. No time should be lost. Bear in mind, each aged person who -passes from amongst us is another valuable volume removed from the -shelves of an ever-decreasing library. I shall be glad to receive the -names of any of my readers willing to help me in forming a North Riding -Folklore and Dialectical Society. - - THE AUTHOR. - - 24 TRENT STREET, - STOCKTON-ON-TEES, - _September 27, 1898_. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I. YORKSHIRE STORIES OF WIT AND CHARACTER 1 - - II. WIT AND CHARACTER 17 - - III. WIT AND CHARACTER—_continued_ 28 - - IV. WIT AND CHARACTER—_continued_ 43 - - V. WIT AND CHARACTER—_continued_ 54 - - VI. CUSTOMS OF THE YEAR AND FOLKLORE 66 - - VII. CUSTOMS OF COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE, BIRTH, AND DEATH 94 - - VIII. OMENS, CHARMS, RECIPES 126 - - IX. WITCHCRAFT 153 - - X. WITCHCRAFT—CONTINUED 173 - - XI. SOME CHARACTERISTIC YORKSHIRE SAYINGS 210 - By the Rev. M. C. F. MORRIS. B.C.L., M.A., Rector - of Nunburnholme. Author of _Yorkshire Folk-Talk_. - - XII. IDIOMS AND THE PECULIAR USE OF CERTAIN WORDS 222 - - XIII. SIMILES, PROVERBS, AND SAYINGS 238 - - XIV. CHILDREN’S LORE 257 - - XV. ODD SCRAPS OF OLD YORKSHIRE, ETC. 279 - - XVI. A FEW SIMPLE HINTS ON THE GRAMMAR OF THE FOLK-SPEECH 316 - - GLOSSARY 342 - - CONCLUDING REMARKS 475 - - - - - THE YORKSHIRE FOLK-SPEECH IS NOT A DIALECT, BUT A LANGUAGE. - - -To those unacquainted with our folk-speech, the following list will -be helpful when reading. A glossary of words now in use in the North -Riding will be found at the end of the volume. - - Ah = _I_. - - Ah’s = (_I is_) _I am_. - - Ah s’ = _I shall_. - - ’an = _than_. - - ’at = _that_, _which_, _who_. - - i’ = _in_, ’iv’ before a vowel. - - i’ ’t = _in it_. - - i’ t’ = _in the_. - - ’ll = _will_. - - ma = _me_. - - mah = _my_. - - na = _nor_, _no_, _than_. - - o’ = _on_, also _of_. - - ov = _of_. - - ’s = _is_, _has_, or _as_. - - s’ = _shall_. - - ‘t = _it_. - - t’ = _the_. - - ta = _thou_ or _you_. - - ti = _to_. - - ti t’ = _to the_. - - ti ‘t = _to it_. - - till = _to_. - - tiv, used before a vowel = _to_. - - wa = _we_. - - wi’ = _with_, as a rule ‘wiv’ - before a vowel. - - ya = _you_. - - yer = _your_. - - yah, adj., personal numeral = _one_. - - yan, adj. = _one_. - - ya’d = _you had_ or _you would_. - - - - - CHAPTER I - - YORKSHIRE STORIES OF WIT AND CHARACTER. - - -‘EDDICATION an’ self-binnders is gahin ti to’n t’ wo’lld upsahd doon,’ -said an honest Yorkshireman to me the other day. ‘Are things in general -really much different now from what they were, say, fifty years ago?’ -I asked. To which I received this laconic reply, ‘Nowt’s t’ saam[1].’ -Nothing could have been more forcible: the words meant much, and the -tone in which they were uttered meant even more. - -Unfortunately this ‘tone,’ which is the very soul of the dialect, can -never be rendered in print. How poor and meaningless in the mouth of -a stranger sound the words, ‘Cu’ thi waays, honey,’ but from the lips -of a Yorkshire mother to her bairn they carry with them the sound of -tenderest love and solicitude. They ring with music, but it is music -which is only tuneful to the Yorkshire ear. - -But to return to our friend. Now, though he said ‘Nowt’s t’ saam’ -in somewhat a depreciatory manner, he was fully aware of the value -of education and the utility of the various mechanical appliances -which have of late years revolutionized agricultural labour. There -is a species, shall I say of conservatism? deeply ingrafted in the -Yorkshireman’s character. It is a natural cautiousness which ever keeps -this conservatism to the forefront in everything connected with his -daily life. He does not, nor ever has, taken kindly to novelties. He -views with suspicion all things which he considers innovations, i.e. -which have a tendency to alter the general rut in which his father -travelled before him. To him the old way is good, and he is loth to -leave it. No matter whether it be temporal or spiritual, he hangs on -long and hard to the old and beaten track. _Errare est humanum_ fully -applies to the Yorkshireman; he makes mistakes, but never owing to his -having been too precipitate. He is naturally cautious and eminently -practical. ‘Ah leyke ti ken hoo tweea an’ tweea’s gahin ti mak fowr, -an’ ’at fowr penn’oth o’ stuff’s wo’th fow’pence, afoor Ah ware mah -brass on owt,’ said an old Tyke one day. This caution and practical -turn in our character, and which is carried into all things, naturally -leads those who are strangers to form the opinion that we are dull and -slow of comprehension, but to those who can read between the lines -this verdict is very speedily reversed; for should it be necessary to -_spend_ only words, ‘which costs nowt, bud deean’t want wasting foor -all that,’ then it will be readily conceded that the Yorkshireman’s -brain can grasp a question and turn on steam so as to give an answer as -quickly and as much to the point as the best of them. - -It may not be couched in the politest of language; nay, most likely -it will be very plain-spoken, even to bluntness; but it will be -just what the speaker thinks, devoid of all the silken trimmings of -conventionalism. - -Many of the answers given to inquisitive questioners often seem -irrelevant; they need as it were some sidelight to point the -application, and generally it is necessary one should have a -considerable knowledge of the dialect and idiom before its terseness -can be fully appreciated. - -Nevertheless, when properly approached our people are communicative, -and express their opinion freely and always _ad rem_. - -But once having weighed any matter over, the opinion so formed -is, as it were, engraved on a rock of adamant. Perhaps one or two -illustrations will show the different phases of character referred to -in a clearer light than pages of written explanation. - -The new vicar (not a Yorkshireman) of a country parish decided that his -congregation should stand up when he and the choir processed from the -vestry. ‘Tha’ll nut deea ’t,’ said the churchwarden when the question -was mooted; ‘t’ au’d fau’k nivver did seea, an’ t’ young uns weean’t.’ -The tone in which this was uttered would have been conclusive to any -Yorkshireman. - -‘I think I can make them,’ said the vicar. ‘Mak ’em!’ with great -unction; ‘did ya saay mak ’em? Noo ya mebbe mud ’tice ’em—yan nivver -knaws what’ll happen—bud Ah’s mairna sartin sewer ’at ya’ll nivver mak -’em; an’ tha’ll tak a gay bit o’ ‘ticing, if Ah knaw owt.’ - -‘Oh, leave it to me, I’ll manage it,’ said the vicar confidently. -‘Whya noo, gan on wi’ ya; bud deean’t forgit ’at a hoss sumtahms -tumm’ls ower t’ raal ’at it’s loup’d afoor,’ was the parting advice of -the worthy churchwarden. - -The following Sunday evening the vicar told his congregation that he -wished them to stand as the choir came from the vestry, but next Sunday -morning found his congregation stolidly seated as heretofore. - -‘Ah tell’d ya tha wadn’t deea ’t,’ chuckled the churchwarden. - -‘But they will,’ replied the vicar. ‘Bud tha weean’t,’ put in the -churchwarden; and then he added as a clincher, ‘Acoz tha’ve made up tha -mahnds aboot it, an’ ya weean’t shift ’em when yance tha’ve deean that.’ - -‘You wait until evening,’ said the vicar, ‘and I shall make them -stand.’ And he did. Coming to the doorway of the vestry, he gave out -the hymn, the organ commenced to play, up rose the congregation, and -out marched the choir and vicar. - -‘Ah’ll watch him fra deeaing that onny mair,’ muttered one old dame -loud enough for half the church to hear. - -‘Did I not say they would rise? And I’ll do that every Sunday,’ said -the vicar, as he and the warden walked home. - -‘Whya, Ah deean’t knaw saa mich aboot that. It’s nut awlus seeaf ti -ride wiv a curb an’ spurs. Ya’ll ’a’e ti tak care noo; wa deean’t tak -kindly ti being tricked, Ah can tell ya; bud wa s’ see at eftther.’ - -Next Sunday morning out stepped the vicar, gave out the hymn, and then -waited in the vestry until the organ and congregation were in full -swing; then, and not until then, did he and the choir march out, and to -his no little surprise he found the whole congregation lustily singing, -but seated to a man. - -As an example of their plain-speaking, as well as their objection to -fall in with a new order of things, perhaps the following is fairly to -the point. - -The wife of the Vicar of ——, having engaged a new maid, concluded -various instructions by saying, ‘Should any ladies call during the -afternoon, and I ring, you must bring in the small tea-tray and a -kettle of boiling water.’ The first two days passed over without a -hitch, but when the bell rang on the third afternoon, instead of -tea-tray and kettle a head was thrust through the half-open door, and -Mary said, ‘Here Ah saay, cum ootsahd; Ah want ya a minit.’ On the -hostess retiring, Mary was heard to say, ‘Noo then! is this new-fengled -gahin-on gahin ti happen ivvery daay? Baith them an’ yow owt ti knaw -’at it’s maist in_con_venient leeaving yan’s reg’lar wark ti mak tea at -this tahm o’ t’ daay. Ya’ll ’a’e ti gan back an’ saay ’at wa s’aan’t be -yabble ti mannish owt for ’em this efttherneean; Ah’s up ti t’ elbows -i’ muck.’ - -The Archdeacon of —— gave me the following story, which is too good to -hide its head. The bishop had been preaching a restoration sermon in -one of our villages. After the sermon his lordship and the archdeacon -overtook the village blacksmith, a well-known character. ‘Well, John, -and how have you enjoyed the sermon?’ inquired the archdeacon. ‘Whya, -nowt bud weel. Ah s’u’d think, sir’ (turning to the bishop), ‘wiv a bit -mair practis ya’ll mannish cannily. I’ t’ main what ya sed war varra -good; a larl bit ti low i’ t’ voice for me, bud ya’ll mend o’ that. -Noo, Ah yance did hear a young chap, an’ he war nobbut a young un an’ -all. Ah think ’at he war iv a grosser’s shop, bud Ah’s nut sartin; -bud that’s nowt. He yance preeached i’ t’ Methody chapel, an’ theer’s -nut a wo’d of a lee aboot it, what Ah saay is trew; ya c’u’d hear him -slap t’ Bahble an’ shoot hauf t’ waay doon t’ village. Aye, ya c’u’d -stan’ ootsahd an’ smeeak ya’re pipe an’ get all t’ good fra what he war -saaying; _bud, then, he war a preeacher_.’ I can well imagine the tone -that last ‘bud, then, he war a preeacher’ would be uttered in. - -The younger fry are just as open as the older folk. I remember a lady -telling me she had called at a farm-house. Evidently she had been -seen approaching. It would seem the doll and other litter of the wee -daughter had been quickly bundled out of sight, and all things, as far -as possible, put in order. For the moment the amusement of the little -one was put an end to, and this did not escape the notice of the child. -She, Yorkshire-like, formed her own opinion upon the proceeding, and -only waited for a suitable moment to very plainly express the same. -Resting her elbows on the lady’s knees, with her chubby little face in -her hands, she said, when a lull in the conversation gave her a chance -to speak, ‘Ah saay, missus, hoo pleasant it wad ’a’e been if you’d -nivver ’a’e cum’d.’ - -The cautiousness of the Yorkshireman is so evident in all matters, -it is so pronounced, that to give examples is almost to lay oneself -open to the charge ‘ov telling a chap summat he knaws.’ Nevertheless -I give you one, not so much because it is exactly Q.E.D., but because -it is one of the best expositions of Socialism I have ever heard. It -seems that some Socialist won one man over to his views, and this man -met a friend of his. ‘Whya, noo then,’ began the friend; ‘what tha -tell ma ’at thoo’s to’n’d ti be a Socialist, is ’t reet?’ ‘Aye, it’s -reet; an’ it’s a gran’ thing an’ all. Thoo owt ti join uz.’ ‘Owt Ah? -What is ’t ’at ya’re efter?’ ‘Whya, thoo knaws it’s lyke this; ther’s -a lot o’ fau’k living i’ gert hooses, an’ tha’re eating an’ drinking -all t’ daay lang an’ guzzling t’ neet thruff, sum on ’em, an’ it’s -gahin ti be stopped. Ivverything’s gahin ti be shared up, an’ all on -uz get what’s wer awn; neeabody nowt na mair ’an onnybody else, dizn’t -ta see,’ ‘Whya, nut fur sartin.’ said his friend. ‘Diz ta meean ’at -thoo’ll share up an’ all?’ ‘Aye, ivverybody will.’ ‘What, is’t gahin ti -be a soart o’ brotherly luv’? Ivverybody wi’ nowt neea mair na onnybody -else.’ ‘Aye, that’s it; brotherly luv’. Ivverybody all t’ seeam, -neeabody nowt neea different neeawaays ti neeabody i’ neea road.’ ‘It -soonds grand; bud diz ta meean ti saay if thoo ’ed tweea hosses an’ -Ah ’edn’t a hoss ’at thoo’d gi’e ma yan?’ ‘Iv a minit Ah wad. If Ah’d -tweea an’ thoo ’edn’t yan Ah s’u’d gi’e tha yan leyke all that,’ said -he, slapping his friend on the back. ‘Aye, an’ if ta ’ed tweea coos, -an’ Ah wanted a coo, wad ta gi’e uz a coo?’ ‘Just t’ seeam. If thoo -’edn’t a coo, an’ Ah ’ed tweea, Ah s’u’d tell tha ti tak yan awaay wi -tha. Noo thoo understands what wa’re efter.’ ‘An’ if thoo’d tweea pigs, -an’ Ah ’edn’t a pig, an’ Ah ass’d tha fur a pig, wad ta gi’e ma yan?’ -‘Naay noo,’ said the Socialist; ‘thoo’s cumin’ teea clooase hand noo; -thoo knaws ’at Ah ’ev tweea pigs.’ - -Possibly not a little surprised was the angler who, when fishing in one -of the small streams of the upper reaches of the Ure, said jokingly to -an old chap who had been watching his vain attempts to land several -fish, ‘I think I need a hanger on; what do you say?’ The old chap had -been thoroughly disgusted with the way in which the fish had been -played. It was no case for joking; it was a downright sin for such a -man to be allowed to fish. So the answer, as may be expected, was more -to the point than polite. ‘What thoo wants,’ said the old chap with a -grunt of disgust, ‘is nut a hinger on, bud a flinger oot. If it’s fish -’at thoo’s efter, thoo’ll ’a’e ti lig t’ rod doon an’ set ti wark wi t’ -net; thoo mebbins mud ’a’e t’ luck ti catch yan o’ them ’at thoo’s hauf -killed. Thoo’s naa fisher; thoo’s nowt bud a spoil watter, that’s what -thoo is.’ Thus relieving himself, Old Willie walked away. - -One of my sketches, given at a Primrose League meeting, gave great -offence to the coachman of a noble lord. Entertainers, by the way, do -not hold any social position in the eyes of such. Some time afterwards -I was asked to go as entertaining guest on his lordship’s son’s -attaining his majority. A day or two before my arrival my host asked -his coachman if he had not been to the entertainment which I had given. - -‘Aye,’ said the old chap, ‘bud I wadn’t gan agaan. He’s up ti nowt, -isn’t yon youth; he’ll nivver git on. He’s gitten impedence foor owt, -he spares nowt na neeabody, he taks sarvants an’ t’ quality off all -alike; Ah reckon nowt on him at all.’ - -‘I am sorry to hear that,’ said his master. - -‘Whya, Ah’s seear ya’ve gitten neea call ti be, he’s nut wo’th it. -Ya mun excuse me, my lord, bud what mud ya be sorry foor?’ ‘Well, -because he is coming here.’ ‘Cumin’ here!’ said the coachman, amazed; -‘what ivver foor?’ ‘To entertain my guests.’ ‘What! deea ya meean -when t’ young lord cums at age?’ he asked, his amazement increasing. -‘Yes,’ said his lordship, greatly amused. ‘Oha! an’ wheer will ya put -him up? ’coz Ah can tell ya ’at t’ sarvants weean’t want ti ’ev him -amangst them, tha neeawaays setten up wiv him.’ ‘But he won’t be with -the servants.’ ‘Then wheer will he be?’ ‘With us, of course.’ ‘Deea -ya meean ti saay ’at he’ll dine wi’ yow an’ t’ quality?’ asked the -old chap, fairly amazed now. ‘Certainly.’ For a moment the old fellow -hesitated; he was bewildered by such a piece of folly. And then he -spoke his mind. ‘Well!’ he gasped, ‘ya mun excuse me, my lord, bud -Ah think ’at yer gahin ti mak a varra common do on ’t.’ Nice for me, -wasn’t it? - -However boorish and brusque strangers may dub us, it is admitted on all -hands that the Yorkshireman is fairly ’cute: he always has an eye to -the main chance. And although others who are glibber of tongue may to a -certain extent fairly ’mazzle’ him with their verbosity, yet any such -may certainly claim to having done the ’hat trick’ if in the end they -manage to outwit the Tyke. ‘He ommaist ’wildered ma wiv his slather, -bud Ah pairted wi’ nowt,’ said an old man who had been tackled by a -book agent. - -‘Did ta bet owt at t’ races?’ asked one Tyke of another. ‘Neea, Ah -didn’t. It war leyke this, thoo knaws. T’ chaps ’at Ah seed stanning -o’ t’ top o’ steeals an’ sitting unner gert um’erellas all seeam’d ti -’ev gawd rings an’ cheeans on, an’ tha war varra weel dhriss’d an’ -all, whahl monny ov ’em ’at war ’livering ther brass up war oot at t’ -teeas an’ doon at t’ heels. Seea Ah sed tiv mysen, “T’ steeal an’ t’ -um’erella chaps leeak ez if tha war ’evving t’ best o’ t’ bargain all -t’ waay thruff,’ an’ seea neean on ’em gat onny o’ mah brass. Dizn’t ta -think ’at Ah war i’ t’ reet on ’t?” - -Cautiousness and ’cuteness is fairly well set forth in the following -story. Old Jobson wished to gain some legal information, ‘bud he didn’t -want ti pay owt for ’t.’ Meeting the legal light one day, he began, -‘Ah saay, if Ah wor ti ax ya summat aboot summat, s’u’d Ah ’a’e ti pay -summat? It’s aboot yon pathwaay o’ mahn ’at Ah want ti knaw summat.’ -‘Certainly; I don’t give advice free,’ replied the lawyer. ‘Whya then, -Ah weean’t ax ya nowt; things may bahd ez they are, whahl yow want a -larl piece o’ knowledge fra me, an’ then wa’ll see if wa caan’t mak a -swap on’t. Nowther t’ field na t’ path’ll shift,’ said Jobson as he -walked away. And so matters rested for some months, in fact until the -lawyer’s horse (a very valuable one) was suddenly taken ill. Jobson was -at once sent for, he being an expert in all horse ailments. The old -farmer, after a careful examination of his patient, declared he knew -what was amiss and what was needed to effect a cure. ‘Then I will send -my man for what you need at once,’ said the owner. - -‘Aye, bud wait a bit; deean’t ya aim ’at tahm’s cum’d when wa s’all -’a’e ti swap wer knowledge?’ said the farmer, with a twinkle in his -eye. The solicitor burst out laughing; he saw the joke and admitted the -validity of the claim. The old chap saved the horse, and the pathway -was satisfactorily arranged. - -The Yorkshireman always sees that he gets value for his money, at least -he always tries to do so. - -The village orchestral society were rehearsing for a public performance -which was to be given the following week. The squire and a musical -friend had just dropped in towards its conclusion. The friend, speaking -at the conclusion with the conductor, said, ‘You have a remarkably good -band; you only lack one slight addition to make it one of the best for -the size of your village I have ever listened to. Will you allow me to -suggest that you get a horn? you lack only that.’ ‘Oha, an’ what’s a -horn?’ inquired the conductor. Having had the matter fully explained, -he asked what a horn could be bought for. But the gentleman pointed out -there was hardly time to procure a horn and teach a man how to play it -before the entertainment came off. ‘Whya then,’ asked the conductor, -‘deea yer knaw a chap ’at c’u’d cum an’ play t’ horn foor uz, an’ what -wad he cum foor?’ ‘I know a first-class player, and I think he would -come for five pounds.’ ‘Fahve pund!’ gasped the conductor. ‘Whya, Ah -c’u’d git a whoale band foor that!’ ‘Never mind the money, John,’ said -the squire; ‘I’ll see about that.’ ‘Oha, whya, if it’s gahin ti be -leyke that, let’s ’a’e t’ chap wi’ t’ horn.’ And so the matter was -settled. On the night of the performance the man with the horn put -in an appearance, and all went well for about ten minutes, when the -conductor stopped the band, and turning to the horn-player, he said, -‘Noo then, thee wi’ t’ horn, thoo isn’t playing.’ ‘No,’ said he; ‘I -have forty-five bars rest here.’ Whereupon the conductor electrified -every one by saying, ‘Mebbe thoo thinks seea, bud leeaks ta here, wa’ve -paid thee fahve pund foor t’ neet an’ thoo’ll ’a’e ti puff all t’ waay -thruff.’ - -Scores of stories could be given illustrating the aptitude our -country-people exhibit in extricating themselves when placed in an -awkward corner. - -The dear old lady who was my study for Mrs. Waddleton asked me to paint -her a picture—‘seea ez Ah s’all ’a’e summat ti leeak at ’at ya’ve deean -yersel when ya’ve geean,’ said she. I readily promised to do so, and in -due course sent her a little snow scene. - -A few days afterwards she saw me passing. ‘Noo then,’ she shouted, ‘cum -in wi’ ya. Ah’ve gitten ’t heng’d up, an’, mah wo’d, bud it leeaks -grand, dizn’t it?’ ‘I am glad you like it,’ said I, as I gazed at my -work of art nestling amongst coloured grasses and peacock feathers; -‘and very nicely you have arranged everything. But perhaps it would -be better if you hung it the right way up.’ Her face was a picture. -The dear old soul felt that she had blundered; she was fearful lest I -should feel hurt. - -But her native wit saved her. ‘Wrang sahd up, is ’t? Aa, bud, Ah saay, -ya mun be a clivver penter seea ez ti pent a picter ’at leeaks reet -onny road up.’ Then, after a moment’s consideration, she added, ‘But -mebbies Ah’d best to’n ’t t’other road roond; sum fau’k mud think ’at -yan didn’t knaw t’ reet end ov a picter if yan let it bahd ez ’tis.’ - -Sir C—— and Mr. W——, a solicitor, once overtook Abe Braithwaite, a -well-known character in Bedale, on the way to the meet. ‘Good morning,’ -said Sir C——; ‘shall we have a find, Abe?’ ‘Nut i’ yon cover; bud Ah -cud gi’e ya a wrinkle.’ ‘Well, let’s have it,’ said Sir C——. ‘Whya, -deean’t weeast mich tahm yonder, bud gan ti t’ far cover, an’ ya’ll -finnd yan theer, hard eneeaf.’ ‘All right, Abe, I’ll bear in mind what -you say,’ said Sir C—— as the two rode off. ‘Ah saay,’ shouted Abe -after the retreating horsemen, ‘if ya’d ass’d advice frev him ’at’s wi’ -ya he’d wanted six an’ eightpence, bud Ah nivver charge nowt na mair -’an a bob mysen.’ And he got it. - -A story just strikes me which illustrates several points already -mentioned. A young fellow who was supposed to be learning land agency -bought a horse at an adjacent fair, and was most systematically -swindled. The said horse was being looked over by one of the village -Tykes. Now for many reasons the fellow did not wish to offend the -purchaser, but it was really impossible to say one thing in its favour. -‘Well, Tom, what is the verdict?’ asked the embryo agent. And then -came the answer, which was worthy of a Grecian lawyer: ‘Whya noo, -that gertly depends. Ya weean’t ’a’e bowt it owther ti show or hunt, -noo ’a’e ya?’ ‘Oh no, just to knock about on.’ ‘Oha, whya then, ’t’ll -deea grandly ti knock aboot on,’ said Tom. ‘All the same you think -they’ve swindled me, now don’t you?’ ‘Whya it’s mebbins mair ’an Ah’d -’a’e gi’en for ’t mysen, but ’t’ll deea grandly ti knock aboot on.’ -At this juncture they were joined by the village ostler, one who was -never over-nice in his remarks. ‘Now, Jack, what do you think of my -bargain?’ ‘What div Ah think on ’t? Whya, Ah wadn’t be seen takking it -ti t’kennels’ (i. e. taking it to feed the dogs); and then, thinking -he had been a little too severe, he added, ‘Bud Ah’ll tell ya what, -’t’ll deea foor yer ti larn what a hoss s’u’d be, foor it’s getten -neean o’ t’ points ’at a hoss owt ti ’ev, an’ ommaist ivvery yan ’at it -s’u’dn’t; ’t’ll deea foor yer ti study ’t up.’ - -The Tyke has a habit of answering you in a kind of metaphor, which, as -before remarked, is almost unintelligible unless something of dialect -and idiom has been mastered. As a case in point, I remember after the -last general election saying to an old fellow, ‘Now, John! what do you -think of this complete change in the country?’ Now, John did not know -which side I favoured, neither did he wish me to learn for which party -he had voted, and, further, he was determined not to say anything which -would either give offence to me or expose his own hand. The question -for a moment was a difficult one to answer, but the answer came pat -enough: ‘Whya, Parliment’s varra mich leyke t’ land—ya mun chaange t’ -crops noos an’ agaan, or it’s ti neea good. Ah s’ ‘a’e ti be gahin noo; -good daay ti ya.’ He had answered me, fully answered me. He had let -nothing escape him. I was none the wiser as to what his own opinions -were, and I might just as well have saved myself the trouble of asking. - -The inspectors of our Board schools can recount many true and curious -anecdotes of our country scholars; but it should be borne in mind by -the department that, although the Yorkshire country-people and their -bairns are bilingual, it is only their mother tongue and ordinary -English which up to the present they have mastered. The southern twang, -pronunciation, and slang is to them as a mystic rune. North-country -men, if you please, to examine North-country boys and girls. Very -often the questions, as put by South-country inspectors, might just as -well be asked in Sanskrit, and very naturally they remain unanswered, -whilst the class is voted as hopeless dunces, when the fault really -lies at the door of the questioner. At one school in Wensleydale a -South-country inspector, when examining a class on the Bible, put this -question, ‘Neow tell me something abeout Mouses.’ ‘Cats kill ’em,’ was -the prompt reply. Another one said to a promising standard in mental -arithmetic, ‘Three packets of pins at a penny each, five hanks of tape -penny each, nine reels of thread penny each, five boxes of hair-pins -penny each, and six ounces of worsted at three halfpence per ounce. -How much does the parcel come to? Quick!’ But the speed with which the -question had been asked, the twang, and the unfamiliar sound of many -of the words, left the standard almost in absolute ignorance of the -question. One thing, and of only one thing, were they clear upon—that -they were being asked something about _thread_, _worsted_, and -_hair-pins_. But as the inspector uttered that ‘Quick!’ he fixed his -eyes on one lad, and the effect of that glance was mesmeric. The lad -immediately answered, ‘Pleease, sur, wa ar’n’t lasses.’ - -But it is not the South-country man alone who receives unlooked for -answers from the practical bairns of our dales. After a somewhat -lengthy and highflown picture-painting on faith, the teacher, wishing -to see if the children had grasped her foolish poetical outburst, -said to one of the boys, whose mother, by the way, was a widow and -desperately poor, ‘Now, Tommy, if I were to say to you, “There will be -a rich plum pudding for your dinner,” and you believed me, what would -that be?’ ‘It ’ud be a gert tak in, for wa nivver ’a’e nowt na better -’an a suet dumpling at oor hoos,’ was the unexpected reply. - -Again, an inspector asked one of the boys in Bilsdale, or rather -commenced to ask, a question in mental arithmetic: said he, ‘If you -had in your hand five apples, two oranges, and three pears, and I was -to take—-— ’ But he got no further; the practical bairn stopped him by -saying, ‘Pleease, sur, Ah c’u’dn’t ho’d ’em all i’ yah han’.’ - -To conclude this chapter, just one more example. Said an inspector to -a little girl, ‘If I knitted twelve stitches in a minute, how many -stitches should I have on my needle at the end of five minutes?’ ‘Ya -wadn’t a’e neean, ’coz ya deean’t knit stitches; ya’re nut gahin ti -catch me i’ that waay.’ He ought to have said ’loops.’ - - - - - CHAPTER II - - WIT AND CHARACTER - - -Our country-people possess in a very marked degree the faculty of -explaining away anything which for special reasons they do not care to -admit. Very often they do this in a marvellously subtle way. Sometimes -so fine is the point upon which they turn an argument, that that which -was to be demonstrated is entirely lost sight of, whilst new issues -are introduced in such a seemingly natural way that in the end you -find yourself contending for some point in which you have no earthly -interest, and which has no connexion with the original argument, but -which, owing to this strategical shifting, has put them on sure ground, -leaving you at a hopeless disadvantage. Equally conspicuous is their -pride and independency; no matter how poor they may be they strongly -object to being patronized. - -‘Ah weean’t let onnybody clap me on t’ back. Ah paay fer what Ah git, -an’ that’s good eneeaf; he’s nowt na better ’an what Ah is,’ said a man -one day, who had been spoken to, with the kindest intention, but in -that unfortunate way which some of the best-intentioned people have of -being familiar, but faintly colouring the same with just a slight whiff -of patronizing superiority. And the Yorkshireman won’t stand it. Don’t -misunderstand me: although no respecter of person he is quite willing -to pay deference to those whom he considers his superiors and who are -worthy of it; but he is the one who acts as judge in such a case. -If you are a stranger, you will have to earn this deference by good -behaviour on your part, or it is quite possible, if you act otherwise, -you will be the recipient of some very plain Yorkshire, whether you -understand it or not. And also bear in mind the Tyke is always equal to -giving an answer, and in his own peculiar way very smart at repartee. - -A good example of one of the peculiarities mentioned is made evident -in the following story. Master and man were returning from a coursing -match, at which the master’s dog had been badly beaten. The man knew -it was a great disappointment, and as a faithful servant he felt -keenly the adverse result of the day’s outing. ‘I felt sure our dog -would win,’ said the master, and then waited for his man to reply. -Now, Tom would not say how much inferior their dog really was to the -winner; in fact, he would only admit that to himself. So he held his -peace. A moment later the master tackled him again, and this time with -a question direct. ‘You saw the course, Tom; how do you account for -it?’ ‘Whya, sur,’ began Tom, ‘dogs is queer things, an’ hares is queer -things; in fact, theer’s nowt na queerer ’an what hares offen is. Noo, -they’re varra flighty things is hares, an’ Ah’ve offens thowt ’at -sumtahms tha tak mair ti yah dog na what tha deea ti t’ tother. An’ ya -knaw leyke, when tha finnd oot ’at theer’s nowt else for ’t bud what -they ’a’e ti be killed, tha let t’ dog deea’t ’at they’ve ta’en t’ -maist fancy tull. Ah caann’t mak ’t oot onny other road, an’ that mun -be it.’ - -Years ago, when guides showed tourists and others round Fountains -Abbey, giving at the same time their version of the history of the -ruins—much of which it must be said was the outcome of their own -imagination, and, though deeply interesting, was opposed to all the -canons of archaeology—several members of the Royal Archaeological -Society and a party of ladies and gentlemen were relegated to the care -of ‘Scott,’ an old guide and a well-known Yorkshire character of those -days. As they went through the ruins the old fellow gave his version, -only a moment afterwards to hear quite a different explanation given -by some member of the R.A.S. At last Scott could ‘bahd it na langer.’ -‘Ah saay,’ questioned he, ‘war you here when t’ Abbey war built?’ -‘No, neither were you, my friend,’ replied the gentleman. ‘Mebbe nut, -bud Ah’ve been here a seet langer ’an what you ’ev, for all that; sum -fau’k think tha knaw sa mich,’ he was heard to mutter. By-and-by the -round was completed, and then it was that old Scott fired off his last -shot. ‘Noo then,’ said he, ‘cum on all t’ lot on ya, an’ Ah’ll tak -ya ti summat ’at neean on ya can owther gainsaay or alter; noo then, -cum on,’ and he marched them under the echo. ‘Noo then, gentlemen, ya -can’t dispute owt ’at’s sed here; gan on, sum on ya, shoot summat.’ -One of the party, who had already had more than one wordy battle with -the old fellow, shouted, ‘Any one seen an old fool knocking about this -morning?’ At which there was a general laugh. But before the repeat -had died away, the old fellow shouted in a voice which made the echo -ring again, ‘Neea, bud theear’s onny amount o’ young uns under t’ -echo.’ And I think he scored. - -Another good story: in fact many hail from Great Ayton. When the Grange -was being built, artists and other workmen from town and elsewhere were -requisitioned to beautify the place. Many of these travelled gentlemen, -on their first arrival, considered the Yattoners fair game for their -sport and wit, but very often they found out, when too late to save -themselves, that they had pressed the wrong button. During their stay -a small wild-beast show opened on the green. In front of the monkeys’ -cage stood a Yattoner, greatly amused with their antics. ‘Admiring your -relations?’ inquired one of the foreign masons as he passed. ‘They’re -neea relations o’ mahn; neean ov oor family’s owt akin ti yours,’ was -the instant reply. ‘Why don’t you wash your brains? there’s plenty -of water in the beck,’ said another of the foreign fraternity. ‘Ther -mebbins is what ’ud wesh mahn, bud you’d ’a’e ti wait whahl a fresh cam -doon.’ ‘Go home,’ said another of them, ‘and tell your father you are -the biggest fool he has ever seen.’ ‘He’d leather ma for telling a lee -if Ah did; ya’re forgitting ’at ya lodge wiv uz;’ and then he dodged a -lump of wood which came that way. - -Old Bessy kept the village store, and in her way was quite a character; -so was her shop for the matter of that. I never was in such a shop in -my life. Anything, everything, and all on the top of something else. -In fact it was as one of the natives put it, ‘Owt ’at Bessy ’ezn’t ’s -nut wo’th assing for.’ The one big house in the place for a short time -was rented by a gentleman whose family made up for any deficiency in -pedigree by all-round rudeness to every one with whom they came in -contact. On one occasion a daughter of the said house flounced into -Bessy’s shop and asked for something which it was most unlikely would -be kept in a shop of that kind. ‘Naay,’ said Bessy, ‘Ah ’a’en’t gitten -nowt o’ that soart; Ah deean’t knaw what t’ stuff is ya’re assing for.’ -‘It is just useless my trying to buy anything in a pottering little -shop like this. You keep nothing but a lot of old rubbish. You never -have anything I want,’ was the young lady’s rude reply. ‘Why noo, Ah’ll -tell ya what, t’ next tahm ’at Ah gan ti Ripon, Ah’ll see if Ah can’t -get a box o’ good behav’o’r; you mun cum in then, an’ Ah’ll gi’e ya -good weight, for ya want it mair na onnybody else. Noo deean’t forgit -ti cum in,’ were the last words the young lady heard as she hurried out. - -His Honour Judge —- for some little time had a house in a Cleveland -village, and whilst there he did a bit of ’hoss swapping’ with one of -the farmers. Unfortunately his Honour’s horse did not turn out well. -Meeting the farmer one day, he said, ‘Robert, you took me in with that -horse, it has turned out very badly.’ ‘Hez ’t, noo? Whya, that’s a bad -job; bud you maun’t gan blethering aboot ’at Ah’ve ta’en ya in, or else -fau’k’ll get it i’ ther heeads ’at ya’re nobbut a varra poor judge.’ - -Quite likely enough, if you get into conversation with the old people, -they will give you their opinion upon most things, and that too very -often without your asking for it. There will be no beating about the -bush, no attempt to smooth away rough corners; the Yorkshireman detests -putty and varnish. What he has to say, like his hitting, comes straight -from the shoulder. - -The hounds were in full cry. A lady and gentleman on approaching a -closed gate against which a farmer’s man was leaning, the gentleman -called out, ‘Hi there! open the gate, look sharp!’ but the man -stood stolidly looking at the hounds. ‘Why don’t you open the gate, -you fool?’ shouted the horseman angrily. Turning slowly round, the -yokel said very quietly, ‘Ah deean’t call ti mahnd ’at ivver Ah ’ed -a God’s-penny fra you. If ya’ll nobbut stan’ back Ah’ve na doot t’ -lady’ll show ya t’ road ower. Ah can see ’at ya’re a bit caff-hearted.’ -Springing to the ground the horseman found the gate was locked. ‘Why, -it’s locked,’ said he, turning to the lady. ‘Ah c’u’d ’a’e tell’d ya -that lang sin,’ said the yokel. ‘Well, I think you might have done so,’ -said the lady, kindly. ‘We have lost a lot of time.’ ‘If you’d cum’d -byv yersen, miss, Ah’d ’a’e brokken t’ gate doon for ya. Bud yah feeal -losses his wits when he’s called yan byv another,’ was the compliment -and retort all in one. - -On another occasion, the horseman forgetting to pay the usual toll, the -gate-opener greatly amused every one by saying, as he touched his cap, -‘Noo, mebbe ya ’evn’t gitten neea small chaange on ya, bud Ah’ll tell -ya hoo wa can mannish ’t: Ah’ve gitten nahnpence, if you’ve a bob?’ - -A good story is told by a Cleveland vicar. The day on which he arrived -in his new parish he had to transact some little matter with the -sexton. On inquiry he was informed this worthy was to be found in the -far pasture. Thither he went, finding the old man busy mowing. ‘Well, -my man!’ began the vicar. ‘Noo then,’ said Old Willie, going on with -his mowing. ‘I wish to have a word or two with you,’ said the vicar, -not very pleased with his off-hand reception. He was not Yorkshire, and -didn’t understand their ways then. - -‘All reet, gan on wi’ tha.’ This without stopping the swing of his -scythe. - -‘I think you don’t know who I am. I am your new vicar.’ Doubtless at -the time the vicar imagined the effect of this startling announcement -would be such that Old Willie’s scythe would fall from his hands, and -most abject apologies be poured forth. But no, Willie just remarked, -‘Oh, are ya? Whya, ya maun’t stan theer; ya’ll ’a’e ti shift yersen, or -Ah s’all mow yer legs off t’ next swathe Ah tak.’ And the vicar moved. - -Our country-people have a way of summing up and giving a verdict quite -on lines of their own. But it must be borne in mind that what is taken -in a figurative sense by those of a wider experience, is often accepted -literally by those whose lives for the most part have been bounded by -their own homestead and dale. When the last historical pageant was -held at Ripon, trips brought the dales-people from all parts. And -although I do not think any of them went so far as to imagine the -various characters impersonated had been dug up and set in motion -for their amusement and edification, I am sure in the main they were -greatly mystified as to how they had all been gathered together. On -the last day, when possibly fifteen thousand people were present, a -group of ladies and gentlemen were standing near the east window of the -Abbey—near by were two or three monks conversing with several knights -in chain armour, and on their right stood King Charles surrounded by -the ladies of his court. A gentleman standing hard by said to his lady -companion, ‘It is really a splendid spectacle, and gives one a perfect -picture of what it must have been in days past.’ ‘You’ll excuse me, -sir,’ said a dame who had overheard his remark, ‘bud is this leyke what -it used ti be?’ ‘Yes, my good woman, exactly,’ the gentleman answered. -‘Whya then, Ah can weel understan’ hoo it war ’at tha pulled t’ pleeace -doon’ (meaning the Abbey), ‘for it’s a giddy gahin-on is this. Bud Ah -will saay,’ pointing to the ladies of King Charles’ Court, ‘’at Ah -nivver seed a finer set o’ lasses i’ all mah leyfe. An’ Ah’ve na doot -’at that accoonts for ’t.’ - -The last clause, I imagine, referred to the ruinous state of the Abbey. - -The same peculiar trait was fully exemplified during an Art exhibition -at York. Several of the pictures were offered for sale, the price being -given in the catalogue. Whilst a couple were gazing in wonderment at -one picture, the woman was overheard to say, ‘Ah nivver thowt ’at -fraams cost seea mich brass. Sitha, mun, that yan’s ower a hunderd -pund; it mun be t’ fraam, thoo knaws, fer t’ picter’s nobbut hauf -deean; t’ chap ’at’s pented it ’ezn’t ’ed tahm ti finish ’t, fer neean -on ’em’s gitten ther cleeas on.’ - -Some few years ago there was an excursion started from Whitby _viâ_ -Battersby, its destination being Wensleydale. Many who availed -themselves of the trip alighted at Aysgarth. One batch in charge of -the curate wended their way to the force, which owing to recent rains -was seen at its best. ‘By gum,’ said one, ‘bud ther’s a seet o’ watter -cuming ower yonder.’ ‘Ah’ll tell ya what,’ said another, giving a huge -wink, ‘they weean’t be yabble ti keep that gam up lang; tha’ll be -letting ’t all off afoor t’ tothers cum up, if they deean’t mahnd.’ -The curate was shocked; his poetical soul was pained at such, as he -imagined, crass ignorance, so he endeavoured to lift them from out of -themselves. After quite a rhetorical outburst bearing on the grandeur -of the scene, he wound up with, ‘Is it not marvellous, magnificent, -overwhelming, to behold it thundering, rumbling, tumbling over?’ Poetry -of that kind makes the speaker breathless, and he paused. Then, turning -to one of the party, he said, ‘What do you think, John, eh?’ ‘Aye, -ya’re all reet about its thunnering, tumm’ling, an’ rumm’ling, bud for -t’ leyfe o’ mah Ah deean’t see owt ’at ther is ti ho’d it back,’ was -the laconic reply. - -I remember on one occasion, when being driven to the station by a -real old Yorkshire coachman—I had been one of a house party for three -days as society humorist—the old fellow giving me a huge dig with -his elbows, and saying, ‘Ah saay, is yon all you deea fer a living?’ -‘That is all,’ I replied. ‘Well, by goa! bud ya git yer living easy, -you deea.’ ‘I don’t know; if you had all the knocking about that I -have perhaps you would not think it quite so easy,’ said I. ‘Whya, -Ah deean’t knaw; what ya’ll ’ev yer expenses paid, ’evn’t ya?’ -‘Certainly,’ I answered. ‘Aye; an’ ya git fed fer nowt, deean’t ya?’ -‘Of course,’ I replied, greatly amused. ‘Whya then,’ said he, ‘Ah’ll -tell ya what: ya travel fer nowt, yer sheltered fer nowt, fed fer nowt, -an’ ya deea nowt; Ah leeak upon ya ez nowt i’ t’ wo’lld else bud a -aristocratic pauper.’ ‘Wait a moment,’ said I; ‘don’t you think brains -count for something in a matter of this kind?’ And then, with that -ineffable scorn which I think only the Yorkshireman of that type can -assume, he said, ‘Braans! braans!! braans!!! Ugh, Ah’ve ez monny brains -ez you ’ev if they war nobbut scraped oot.’ - -‘Which waay did ta vote?’ asked one. ‘Whya noo, it war leyke this waay: -Ah went an’ heeard all ’at t’ blew chap ’ed ti saay, an’ he made it -oot ez cleear ez t’ neease on yer feeace ’at t’ yallers war up ti neea -good; an’ efter that Ah went ti lissen ti t’ yaller chap, an’ he sed -’at t’ blews war warse ’an nowt at all. Seea Ah thowt ti mysen, ’at if -them ’at’s my betters dizn’t knaw what’s what, it’s nut for sike o’ me -ti saay; seea when t’ voting daay cam Ah stopped at yam an’ sell’d t’ -pig.’ - -A classical curate was seized with an inordinate yearning to improve -and elevate the ’thought tone’ (I quote his words) of certain Cleveland -farmers. Now, as a body of men, the Cleveland farmers, as I know them, -are about as shrewd, practical, and thoroughly business-like as you -will find anywhere in Yorkshire, and that is saying a deal; still I -am bound to admit, though I know little of ’thought tone’ myself, -they know less. There is no money in it. Make it clear that an income -of two hundred a year can be squeezed out of ’thought tone,’ and -Yorkshire will supply the world with any amount, in tins, condensed, -and hermetically sealed. At present it is not quoted on ’Change. But -to my story. The curate made a dead set at one farmer in particular, -giving him, on one occasion, a graphic account of the siege of Troy. -‘One general, sir,’ said he, ‘though sorely wounded, commanded his -armour-bearer to strap on his armour, and this having been done he -placed himself in the forefront of the battle’ (here much dramatic -action and tone was indulged in by the curate, and the hearth-rug -greatly disarranged)—‘in the forefront, sir, and single-handed he -engaged three of the Trojans’ (seizing the poker and swinging it round -his head). ‘He slew two of them, but the third pierced him to the -heart, and he sank lifeless upon his vanquished foes. ‘Twas a brave -deed, and a noble death, the death of a hero. What do you think, sir?’ -Breathless, and with dampened brow, he waited for an outburst of tone, -which he fully expected would rush forth as waters from the burst bank -of a reservoir. The farmer just removed his pipe and placidly remarked, -‘Too bou’d, sir, too bou’d.’ The curate sank into a chair aghast. Was -the man human, or was he beyond hope! ‘Is that all?’ he gasped; ‘has no -other thought struck you whilst I recounted my story?’ ‘Whya,’ said the -farmer, ‘Ah did yance ower aim ’at ya’d be fetching t’ clock doon wi’ -t’ poker, bud fort’natly ya didn’t.’ The curate fled. - - - - - CHAPTER III - - WIT AND CHARACTER—_continued_. - - -Our country-people, as has been incidentally remarked, are very proud -and independent, but I venture to say both their pride and independency -are cast in a right groove, and may certainly be classed amongst the -chief elements which have made the Yorkshireman the self-reliant -mortal which he certainly is. I have already said that he is eminently -practical, and I now add hard to convince. Often, I admit, his mode -of arguing would puzzle a Philadelphian lawyer, but after all it is -argument, if you are only Yorkshire scholar enough to understand his -way of handling a subject. The country-people are hard to convince, and -no respecters of person. - -Mary W—-—- had for many years received a dole of ten shillings every -Christmas for coals, but having obtained regular work at the Hall, the -vicar rightly decided that five shillings in future would meet her -circumstances, the more so as there were many other deserving cases. -At the time appointed he left five shillings with Mary’s daughter, -the mother being out at the time. On her return she was told of the -vicar’s call, and of the five shillings which he had left. ‘And what -did you do, Mary?’ asked a lady, some short time afterwards. ‘Deea! -deea! Whya, Ah ’ed t’ fahve shillin’ seal’d an’ posted back agaan tiv -him, afore he left t’ village. Ah’m nut that poor ’at Ah want for fahve -shillin’; an’ if Ah can’t be treated like a lady wi’ ten shillin’, Ah -weean’t be maad a pauper on; neea, nut if t’ archbishop war ti cum wiv -it hissel.’ - -Chatting one day with a very old friend of mine, the Vicar of —-, he -gave me the following:—‘In my younger days,’ said he, ‘I was brought -up amongst the South-country peasantry, and for some time after I came -into the North Riding I was greatly surprised at the small amount -of deference paid to me as their pastor. So marked was this, that I -determined if possible to discover the reason; so one day I entered -into conversation with a blunt but honest old stone-breaker I found -hard at work by the roadside. “Now, Willie,” said I, “you are hard at -it.” “Aye,” said he, “Ah’ve gitten ti arn my bit; ya’ve nivver ’ed ti -deea a stroak foor yours.” Not heeding his remark—which, by the way, -a South-country man of like position would never dared have uttered—I -asked: “How is it, Willie, that none of the villagers ever touch their -caps or the women curtsy when they meet me?” I know it was a bit -snobbish to ask such a question, but I had good reason for so doing: -I wished to find out if I was in any way remiss. “Touch wer caps an’ -co’tsey!” said he, still continuing to break his stones. “Wa’ve neea -call ti deea owther t’ ane or tither; wa knaw varra larl aboot ya ez -yit.” “But I am your pastor,” I urged, feeling at that time that was -all-sufficient. “That coonts fer larl,” said the old fellow. “Ther’s -good uns an’ bad uns ov all soarts. Ah tell ya ’at wa knaw varra larl -aboot ya ez yit. Wa s’all finnd oot efter a bit what soart o’ stuff -yer maad on, bud ya’ll ’a’e ti treead yer teeas cannily, or wa s’aan’t -tak ti ya at all.” All this,’ said my old friend, ’at that time was a -complete revelation to me. Up to then I had been used, anyway before my -face, to something approaching servility, and here was a stone-breaker -plainly telling me I should have to be very careful, and doing so -without so much as ceasing his work.’ Let me add, the stone-breaker has -been laid to rest now many a year, and the flock has fully recognized -the vicar as their shepherd, and as one worthy both of their love and -respect; and in their way they give the one and show the other in a -marked degree. It takes a little time to get at the bottom of our -people, but the trying to do so always brings a plenteous reward. - -Mr. Pawson by nature was bumptious. He was distinctly of the genus -_novus homo_. He came to the village as a stranger, and built himself -a house, and from the day he came to reside therein, figuratively -speaking, he began to push the villagers about. ‘He’ll stritch t’ -lastic’ (elastic) ’whahl it flees back an’ smacks him i’ t’ feeace,’ -said one. And he did. It happened this way. One day, turning to a small -pig-jobber, he said, ‘Jackson, tell one of your lads to take my dog -back to the house; and, Jackson, he had better call at the saddler’s -and take some repairs along at the same time.’ Now, as has been already -remarked, this addressing the country folk by their surname is deeply -resented; and in the case of Mr. P. there was almost open rebellion. -Jackson, however, was in no way dependent on the self-elected squire; -so, winking to the bystanders, he said, ‘All reet; bud Ah saay, Mr. -Pawson, Ah think ’at ya owt ti saay Mister when ya speeak ti ma. Ya -knaw fau’k’s saying ’at maist leyklings wa s’all seean be related, ez -mah au’dest lad’s gitten his e’e on that eldest lass o’ yours.’ The -roar of laughter which followed was—well, I pity Mr. Pawson. - -A lady of ample means, whose one desire was to do good to others, found -the people very difficult to approach when she first came amongst -them. As a fact, she knew nothing of the idiosyncrasy of the Yorkshire -people. Said she one day to an old Yorkshire dame whom she had weeding -her garden: ‘Bessy, how is it the people do not take kindly to me? I am -most wishful to help them, and to make them my friends, but they won’t -let me; how is it?’ ‘Whya, ya see wa’re a larl bit different mebbe ti -t’ fau’k ’at you’ll ’a’e been amang, afoor ya cam inti these pairts; -Ah’ve allus fun’ ya varra canny ti deea wi’ mysen, Ah will saay that.’ -‘Yes, but how is it the other cottagers do not seem pleased to see me -when I call?’ ‘Whya, mebbins Ah c’u’d tell ya, bud Ah deean’t knaw ’at -Ah s’u’d be deeaing mysen onny good if Ah did,’ said Bessy, cautiously. -‘But I should be greatly obliged to you if you would.’ ‘Aye, ya saay -seea noo, bud ya’d leyklings git yer back up if Ah tell’d ya.’ ‘No, -indeed I won’t; I am really wishful to know.’ ‘Oha, whya noo, when ya -gi’e ma yer wo’d on ’t, Ah s’ ‘a’e ti gi’e ya a bit ov an inkling. Noo, -it’s leyke this, mum: wa deean’t tak kindly ti fau’k ’at tak liberties -wiv uz. Noo, Ah deean’t want ti saay owt ’at’ll vex ya, bud neea doot, -bidoot meeaning it, ya tak a gert deal upon yersen.’ ‘In what way?’ -asked the lady, being quite unaware of ever having done anything of the -kind. ‘Whya noo, for yah thing, ya nivver knock at neeabody’s deear; -ya just lift t’ sneck an’ cross t’ deearstan ez if t’ pleeace belang’d -ti ya. An’ Ah’ll tell ya anuther thing whahl Ah’s aboot it: ya ass[2] -a seet ti monny quessions for yan ’at isn’t varra weel knawn ti yan. -Ya s’u’dn’t deea seea. Ya wadn’t be sae setten up noo, if yan ov uz -cam an’ walked wersens inti your parlour, bidoot knocking or owt, an’ -started ti ass ya quessions aboot all manner o’ macks an’ mander o’ -things, noo wad ya? Noo, wa ar’n’t aboon awning wer betters; bud, mahnd -ya, wer betters ’ez ti wait whahl wa deea’t, an’ they ’ev ti let uz -deea’t i’ wer awn waay an’ all, an’ ther’s nowt aboot that,’ concluded -Bessy. Let me add, the lady took the hint, and in time learnt to love -the plain-spoken people she had come to live amongst; and they gave -their love in return tenfold, which, if rugged and rough at the edges, -only enables you to get a firmer grip of it. - -Just a few illustrations proving the practical side of our character. - -In the village schoolroom a lecturer very learnedly and emphatically -discoursed on the human eye. Amongst other things he declared the eye -could quell the most savage beast. ‘Ah saay,’ said a sturdy farmer -at the close of the lecture, ‘deea ya ho’d ti be trew all ’at ya’ve -been telling uz aboot wer e’es?’ On assuring him every word was quite -true, the lecturer was somewhat staggered by the farmer’s desire for a -practical proof. ‘Whya then,’ said he, ‘Ah’ll tell ya what, Ah deean’t -believe owt ’at ya’ve tell’d uz; an’ mair ’an that, if you’ll cum up -ti mah hoos ti morn at morn, Ah’ll gi’e ya a chance ti tell mah ’at -Ah’s wrang. Noo, leeak here, if you’ll gan inti mah paddock, Ah’ll gie -ya leave ti e’e mah bull ez mich ez ivver ya leyke, an’ if he dizn’t -shift ya afoor ya can count fo’tty, Ah’ll gi’e ya leave ti tak him yam -wi’ ya. Bud you’ll be shifted.’ A friend calling to see one who was -seriously ill, said just before parting, ‘Whya noo, thoo maun’t gi’e -waay; thoo mun keep thi pluck up, or else it’ll be owered wi’ tha.’ -‘Aye, mun!’ said the invalid, ‘bud it’s hard ti keep yan’s pluck up, -when yan feels all ov a shutther. Ah’ll tell tha what, if summat dizn’t -sthraangely alter, Ah’s foor off, an’ ther’s nowt can ho’d ma back.’ -‘Oha well,’ said the visitor, ‘thoo owt ti knaw t’ best; bud whativver -thoo diz, thoo maun’t dee iv a horry’ (hurry). ‘It’s fowr mile ti t’ -chetch, an’ thoo’s na leet weight, an Ah s’u’d be bidden, an’ ‘a’e ti -len’ a han’ ti hug tha. Liggin i’ bed a bit taks yan doon a lot; thoo -mun try ti hing on a week or tweea, hooivver.’ - -Old I—— of Masham, a well-known jobber in days past, was once asked for -a loan. But I will give the story as given to me years ago by William -Scorrer, than whom a finer specimen of the old school of Yorkshiremen -never lived, and to whom I am indebted for many of the best stories and -other information in this book. Could you but have heard the old man -tell them—old! why, he never looked old, and he was nearly eighty when -I knew him—but you never will hear him; he has stepped over the line. -His style, raciness, and everything which goes to make a Yorkshire -story worth listening to, were lost when the grave closed over his last -remains. At least, that is to my way of thinking. I know scores of -people who can tell a Yorkshire story, and tell it admirably, perfect -as to dialect, and humorously, too; but still, there always lacks that -something—I mean crispness; no, sparkle is the word—which the old chap -always managed to give just at the right moment. ‘Requiescat in pace.’ - -Pardon me, I will to the story. Old I—— was at Northallerton Market, -when another jobber rushed up to him. ‘Ah saay,’ said he, ‘c’u’d ta -mannish ti len’ uz fahve pund. Ah finnd mysel that sho’t, an’ Ah s’all -loss a grand bargain if Ah caan’t leet on sumbody ’at ’ll len’ uz ’t.’ -‘Whya, thoo knaws, Bill,’ said I——, ‘Ah deean’t ho’d wi’ lennin’; ta -knaws it offens maks frien’s leeak shy at yan anuther; bud if so be -’at thoo’s gahin ti miss a bargain, whya, Ah mun stritch a point foor -yance, bud, mahnd tha, thoo ’ezn’t ti mak a common practis on ’t. Noo, -when diz ta think ’at thoo’ll be yabble ti pay ’t back? An’ what ’ez ta -gitten, ’at thoo’s gahin ti ’liver up ez security?’ ‘Whya, Ah’ll let -tha ’a’e my watch, an’ Ah’ll gi’e tha mah wo’d——.’ - -‘Nivver mahnd thi wo’d, let’s leeak at t’ watch. Ah tell tha what,’ -said I——, when he had the watch in his hand, ‘thoo mebbins sets gert -store byv it thisen, bud tha’d bunch tha oot ov a pawn shop if thoo -war brazzen’d eneeaf ti ass a pund for ’t. When can ti let mah ’ev it -back?’ ‘Ah’ll gi’e tha ’t at Bedale next Tuesday.’ ‘Whya noo, Ah’ll -trust tha for yance, bud it’s mair ’an what thi awn feyther ’ud deea. -Noo thoo maun’t tak ma in; Ah s’all leeak for tha ti’ pay ’t back when -Ah see tha at Bedale.’ To Bill’s credit, the money was paid the week -following. But a fortnight afterwards he again begged for a loan, this -time for fifteen pounds. ‘Neea!’ said I——, ‘thoo teeak mah in yance; -Ah’ll nut trust tha na mair.’ ‘Teeak tha in! Didn’t Ah pay tha back -hard eneeaf at Bedale, when Ah tell’d tha Ah wad?’ ‘Aye, thoo paid ma -back all reet, bud Ah nivver thowt ’at thoo wad; naay, thoo’s ta’en ma -in yance, Ah weean’t be on agaan.’ - -That by nature the Tyke is tenacious of his opinion, and hard to -convince, may be taken as an axiom. I have referred to this before, but -this is a convenient opportunity to produce proofs of the same. - -For years, old Sykes and Hobson, though neighbours, had been on -unfriendly terms. Years back, Sykes had found on several occasions a -certain gate thrown off its hinges. Whether he held any proof, history -does not recount, but he blamed Hobson for doing it. Hobson, however, -stoutly denied all knowledge of the affair. Anyway, for long they -remained about as unfriendly as they well could; until one day, Hobson, -at the risk of his life, rescued Sykes’ lad from drowning. On hearing -of the rescue, Sykes hurried away to thank Hobson. They met in one of -the latter’s fields. ‘Whya, noo then,’ began Sykes, ‘Ah’ve cum’d ti -shak tha byv t’ han’; thoo’s saved my bairn, an’ Ah’s behodden ti tha -foor awlus. Noo wa s’all ’a’e ti let bygones be bygones, an’ start -afresh. Thoo knaws wa used ti hit it off all reet yance ower; noo, -what diz ta saay?’ ‘Wha, mun, ther’s my hand on ’t, an’ Ah’s mair ’an -glad ’at wa’ve hap’t t’ au’d sore up at last; an’ ez thoo sez, wa mun -start afresh, just ez if nivver nowt ’ed cum’d atween uz’ So they shook -hands, and talked farming for an hour or so, until it was time for -Sykes to return. Shaking Hobson by the hand, he said, ‘Noo thoo knaws -Ah s’all nivver be yabble ti mak it up ti tha for saving t’ lad, an’ -Ah’s reet glad ’at Ah can gan yam an’ tell t’ missus ’at thee an’ me’s -kind agaan, an’ Ah whoap ’at wa s’all awlus keep seea. Bud mahnd tha, -Ah still ho’d ti ’t ’at it war thoo ’at flang t’ yat offen t’ creeaks,’ -i.e. ‘But bear in mind, I still think it was you who flung the gate off -the hinges.’ - -Old Hall, a well-known character in one of our dales, was the doctor -for miles round, and proud was the village wherein he actually resided. -He was more than doctor, he was the vet. as well; he read the lessons -in church; in fact, he was the father of the village. He was consulted, -and his advice acted upon in all things which are incident to a village -community. And then he died, and a new doctor took his place—top -hat, frock-coat, and everything. Some little time after his arrival, -Wilson’s cow died, and the death of the said cow was fully discussed -the day following, in the blacksmith’s shop. ‘What did ta gi’e it?’ -asked one. ‘Nowt. Hoo mud Ah knaw what ti git for ’t?’ ‘Did ta gan for -t’ doctor?’ asked another. ‘Aye, an’ he war neean sae setten up, at -being fetched oot o’ bed i’ t’ middle o’ t’ neet.’ ‘Warn’t he! What -did he saay?’ ‘He tell’d ma ’at he warn’t a coo doctor, an’ knew nowt -aboot ’em.’ ‘Did he saay that?’ asked the smith slowly, resting on -his hammer, as he waited for an answer. ‘Aye, an’ he tell’d ma ti gan -yam an’ nivver wakken him up na mair on sike an earand,’ ‘Wha, then,’ -said the smith very deliberately, ‘he’s nut a Hall! an’ he mud just ez -weel teeam his stuff oot, an’ quit his bottles foor au’d glass. Foor -Ah meean ti saay ’at a chap ’at dizn’t knaw nowt aboot t’ innards’ -(the inside) ‘of a coo, an’ hosses, an’ pigs, an’ sike leyke, isn’t -gahin ti practis on onny ov uz, ’coz if he ’ezn’t gitten them off, he -caan’t knaw nowt aboot oor innards, foor wa’re a seet mair intrickiter’ -(intricate) ’na onny o’ t’ dumb critters. He’s nut a Hall, an’ he’s na -ewse tiv uz.’ The oracle having spoken, it was agreed on all hands that -it was so. And from that moment the influence of that man as a doctor -ceased. - -Here is another, which brings out a trait I purpose touching upon -afterwards. Incidentally, I may mention, a bargain is a bargain, and -must be maintained and carried out as originally agreed upon. The -story, however, I give as an illustration of how hard it is to convince -our people that their preconceived notion on any subject is wrong. - -It was quite four miles from a certain house to the village, and as the -gardener was often required to go thither for one thing or another, his -master bought him a bicycle, thinking to make the journey easier for -him. A few days after the machine had been presented, John said, ‘Noo, -sir, Ah wanted ti ’ev a wo’d wi’ ya. Noo, when Ah cam, Ah cam for ti -be t’ gardener, an’ ti deea onny odd jobs ’at wanted deeaing. Bud, -ya knaw, Ah s’all want a bit mair a week if Ah’ve ti larn ti mannish -yon thing’—jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of -the tool-house, where the byke was kept. ‘Ya knaw, sir, ther warn’t -nivver nowt at no tahm owt sed aboot a bisittle, an’ Ah s’ want a bit -mair afoor Ah tattle yon thing. Noo, hoo mich is ’t ti be?’ The master -pointed out that it was for his (the gardener’s) own comfort, and to -lighten the journey to and from the village, he had been induced to -buy the bicycle. ‘Whya, noo, Ah deean’t knaw sae mich aboot that,’ -said John; ‘it soonds weel eneeaf t’ waay ’at you put it; ther’s nowt -aboot that, bud Ah’ve leeaked fother inti ’t ’an what yow ’ev. Noo, -leeak here, it taks me nigh on ti tweea hoors an’ a hauf ti gan an’ cum -walking; noo, hoo lang is ’t gahin ti tak ma ti deea ’t o’ yon thing?’ -‘When you get used to it, you will run there and back easily in an -hour.’ ‘Oha, s’all Ah! Then that’ll be leyke an hoor an’ a hauf ti t’ -good.’ ‘Yes, you will save quite that.’ ‘Then when Ah git back, s’all -Ah ’a’e ti sit ma doon an’ deea nowt for t’ hoor an’ t’ hauf?’ ‘Sit -down and do nothing! Certainly not; you will go on with your work.’ -‘Aye, Ah thowt seea; an’ that’s what maks ma saay ’at ya’ll ’a’e ti -gi’e ma a larl bit mair, ez Ah’s gahin ti put sa monny mair hoors’ wark -in i’ t’ week. Ya see, you reckon yah waay, an’ Ah reckon another, an’ -Ah think Ah’s i’ t’ reet on ’t.’ - -Those who have given the slightest attention to the various traits -which are so interesting in the character of our people, will not have -failed to notice one which is very pronounced. I mean the objection -they have to showing, and the cleverness they display in hiding, their -ignorance on any matter. If in speaking to our country people you use -a word which they do not understand, they never let you know that they -do not catch your meaning: they wait until you say ’summat else,’ in -the hope that they may gather therefrom what you mean; and if you do -not happen to say anything which throws light upon the unknown word, -well, there the matter ends, and as a rule it does not trouble them -for one moment. A farm labourer fell off a bicycle, and sprained his -arm very severely; the doctor, a young locum, and a trifle pedantic, -gave him a bottle of lotion, saying, as he did so, ‘Your arm will be -all right in a few days: you have strained your biceps, you must rub it -well with this lotion.’ ‘What diz ta think on him?’ asked one, who had -been waiting outside. ‘Whya, he’s nowt bud a fondheead, is yon. What -diz ta think? He sez ’at Ah’ve spraaned my airm, an’ he’s gi’en ma a -bottle o’ stuff ti rub t’ bisittle wiv; let’s gan ti t’ bone-setter.’ -A lady visiting a poor young fellow who was seriously ill, and very -feverish, said to the mother, ‘Your son is very ill, I fear.’ ‘He is -that, mum; he’s nut foor lang doon here. Hooivver, wa’ve deean t’ best -’at lay i’ wer power, an’ yan isn’t yabble ti deea na mair ’an that. -Bud Ah’s pleeased ti saay ’at wa’ve gitten eneeaf saved up ti put him -deeacently by, an’ that’s a blessing. It’ll be a beautiful funeral, -mum, an’ wa’ve let him saay whau’s ti be bidden; an’ Ah deean’t think -he’s forgitten yan ov his au’d frien’s—bud he awlus was thowtful.’ -‘That is very nice,’ said the lady, for she understood something of -the people and their ways. ‘I will send you a couple of ice wafers,’ -said she, thinking they would be nice for him to cool his lips with. ‘I -think your son will like them, he seems so feverish.’ Next day, when -she inquired how the patient was, the poor mother said, with tears -in her eyes, ‘Thank ya, mum, Ah think he’s warse.’ ‘Did he like the -wafers?’ she inquired, adding, ‘you can have more.’ ‘Well, mum,’ said -the mother, ‘Ah c’u’dn’t saay foor sartin whether he liked ’em or nut. -Ya see, ez seean ez ya sent ’em, Ah put him t’ white yan on his chist; -bud he ’pleeaned ’at it felt varra cau’d, an’ seea Ah teeak it off, an’ -put t’ pink un on a plate i’ front o’ t’ fire ti warm. Bud Ah think t’ -cat must ’a’e gitten ’t, foor it war gone when Ah went for’t. So ya -see, iv a waay, he ’adn’t a fair go wiv ’em. Bud you needn’t send na -mair, he’s gahin fast noo.’ - -A gentleman said to a Yorkshire dame, ‘Your little chap looks very -robust.’ ‘Aye, an’ your larl chap leeaks t’ saame,’ said she; not in -the least knowing what ’robust’ meant. ‘Nay, nay,’ said the gentleman; -‘I only wish he was’—glancing at the very weakly child he held by the -hand. The dame perceived she had made a mistake, so added, ‘Whya he -seean wad be’; and then, not quite certain of her ground, or where -‘robust’ was going to land her, continued, ‘bud then yan nivver knaws.’ -When the gentleman had left the group, one of the bystanders said, -‘Dolly, what diz ro-bust meean?’ ‘Deean’t ass me, Ah’ve na mair idea na -t’ man i’ t’ meean,’ said she. ‘Then what maad ta saay ’at his bairn -leeaked t’ saame ez what he sed thahn did?’ ‘Whya, Ah thowt ’at if he -war calling mah bairn naames, Ah’d let him ’ev ez good ez he sent; -whahl, if he war sayin’ summat i’ praise on ’t, Ah sud be deeaing t’ -saame byv his.’ - -On another occasion, a village dame entered the doctor’s visiting-room. -‘Noo, then,’ she commenced, ‘gie ma summat, an’ leeak sharp aboot it, -fer Ah is badly; Ah can nowther bahd ti sit doon, stan’ up, ner nowt.’ -‘What is the matter with you?’ inquired the doctor. ‘Naay, what; it’s -neea ewse assing me, Ah’ve cumd to see you aboot that.’ ‘Well, but -what ails you?’ ‘Aals ma! Ah’ve gitten galloping paans all reet roond -aboot ivverywheear; Ah is badly.’ ‘But what have you been doing to -get them?’ ‘Whya, Ah can think o’ nowt bud, t’ daay afoor yesterdaay, -Ah war weshin’, an’ Ah mun ’a’e kept a damp ap’on on, an’ Ah aim ’at -it’s gi’en ma cau’d all reet roond aboot ivverywheer.’ ‘Now I know -what’s the matter with you. Here’s a bottle for you; take it home, and -you had better drink a teaspoonful every ten minutes, and it will be -best if you take it in a recumbent position,’ said he, handing Martha -the bottle. Now, ‘recumbent position’ was quite outside Martha’s -vocabulary; she had not the least idea what he meant, but she was not -going to expose her ignorance by asking. So off home she set, saying -to herself as she went along, ‘“Re-cum-bunt po-zition;” noo what diz -that mean?’ However, Yorkshire like, she hit upon a plan of getting to -know, without exposing her own ignorance. Calling on a neighbour as she -passed by, she shouted, ‘‘Liza Jane, Ah’ve been ti t’ doctor, an’ he’s -gi’en ma a bottle o’ stuff, an’ Ah ’ev ti tak a speeanful on ’t ivvery -ten minits; bud he sez ’at Ah ’ev ti tak it in a recumbunt po-zition. -Bud thoo knaws Ah ’evn’t gitten yan, an’ Ah thowt mebbe ’at thoo’d be -seea good ez ti let ma ’a’e t’ len’ o’ thahn; will ta?’ Liza Jane knew -no more what ’recumbunt po-zition’ meant than Martha, but she was not -going to give herself away, so she replied, ‘Ah wad ’a’e deean sa wi’ -t’ gertest o’ pleasure i’ t’ wo’lld, nobbut Ah lent mahn yisterday. Bud -ez thoo gans up t’ village, call in at t’ shop an’ buy yan for thisen, -an’ then thoo’ll ’ev it at heeam when thoo wants it; an’ if tha ’evn’t -gitten yan, buy a mug—it’ll deea just t’ seeam.’ - -One more. Bessy having explained to the doctor that her husband was -suffering from a fearful pain in the head, was ordered to apply the -half-dozen leeches which he gave her. Now, had the doctor said, ‘stick -’em on,’ or ’clap ’em on,’ Bessy would have known what she had to do -with them. However, she had half a dozen leeches to do something with, -so she went home and did her level best. A couple of days after, the -doctor, seeing Bessy, asked her how John was. ‘Oh, he’s all reet noo. -Them things capped him; tha did, hooivver.’ ‘You managed all right, -did you, Bessy?’ asked he. ‘Whya, Ah caan’t saay ’at wa mannished sa -weel wi’ t’ fo’st un ’at Ah gav’ him; he chow’d on wi’ ‘t, bud he c’u’d -catch ho’d on ’t neea road, soa Ah boil’d him t’ rest, an’ he sluthered -’em doon neycely.’ - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - WIT AND CHARACTER—_continued_ - - -There are many other side-lights to our character, only a few of which -it will be possible to notice. But every story is pictured in such -varying light and shade as to afford those who can fully appreciate -them many varied traits of our character. And one word, if you please, -with reference to these stories. Nearly all have the merit of being in -essence true. They have been gathered from various sources, but in the -main first hand. Many of the characters were known personally to the -writer; and although in a few instances the origin and authenticity are -doubtful, they are included because they so fully illustrate that which -was to be demonstrated, and because they are so true to life, and just -what would really have happened under like circumstances. - -There is one special gift which the Yorkshireman possesses in a high -degree, i.e. the humorous. It is a humorousness, too, which often -(given that you understand and appreciate the dialect) sparkles with -genuine wit. I plead guilty to the fact that much of the wit of our -country-people is, as it were, given with the back of the hand. Still, -it is none the less witty, for all that. And if the same sounds rough -and unmusical to you, kindly bear in mind that the Chinese consider -our best music little else than a tumult of discordant sound. It is -generally the last few words uttered which contain the bud, blossom, -and fruit all in one. I remember once being completely shut up by a -Yorkshire lad, and he only uttered two words; but the tone and the look -were the very cream of sarcastic jeering. This was how it came about. -The lad was driving home some ducks from the pond. ‘You have a lot of -fine ducks, my boy,’ said I. And then, thinking to buy a couple, I -asked, ‘How often do you kill them?’ ‘Nobbut yance,’ was the laconic -reply. - -‘T’ law’s nowt bud a tak in all t’ waay thruff,’ said one. ‘When me -an’ Tom went afoor wer betters aboot that hedge, Ah’d Jackson ti talk -foor me, an’ he ’ed Smith ti talk foor him. An’ ti lissen ti them tweea -blackguarding yan anuther when t’ case war on, yan mud ‘ thowt ’at tha -war i’ arnist, an’ ‘at tha nivver wad ’a’e spokken civil t’ ane tither -agaan; bud bless mah leyfe, when t’ case war adjourned ti t’ next court -daay, an’ when me an’ Tom, scooling at yan anuther leyke all that, went -inti t’ Black Lion ti ’ev a glass o’ yal, if wa didn’t finnd them tweea -takking wine an’ ‘ranging ti gan fishing tigither t’ next daay. “Tom,” -sez Ah, “if this is t’ waay tha mak t’ feeal o’ yan, seeaner thee an’ -me haps t’ business up an’ t’ better it’ll be foor baith on uz.” An’ he -sez ti me, “Gi’e uz thi han’ on’t,” an’ Ah did. An’ then Ah shoots oot, -“Hi! Ah’ll tell ya what, you tweea ’ed best ’range to gan fishing foor -awlus; bud mahnd ya, nowther me ner Tom’s gahin ti finnd t’ bait for -owther on ya!” - -Sally Ridge was a terror to all those she took a dislike to. She -usually played some prank to the detriment of those who, for the time -being, were out of favour. On one occasion, however, she went a trifle -too far; she broke the back of a duck with a stone. This got poor Sally -into fearfully hot water, and there was every likelihood of her being -summoned; however, the writer interceded on her behalf, and on Sally -faithfully promising never to stone a duck again, she was pardoned. -Within an hour afterwards, I surprised her gaily pitching stones -amongst the feathered swimmers. ‘Didn’t you promise me faithfully not -to throw stones at the ducks again, Sally?’ I asked, taking hold of -her, and adding, ‘it is wicked of you to break your word in this way.’ -‘Ah ’evn’t brokken my wo’d,’ replied Sally, trying to free herself. -‘But you have; you promised not to throw stones at the ducks again,’ I -repeated. ‘An’ Ah isn’t; Ah’s thrawing at yon geese, an’ it’s nut mah -fau’t if t’ silly au’d ducks git thersens i’ t’ road. Leave lowse, Ah -nivver sed nowt ti naebody aboot geese.’ - -Three visitors hired a boat at Staithes for an hour’s fishing, having a -man each to attend to their lines. On returning to land, the fishermen -were paid half a crown for the sail. The visitors had not got far away, -when one of the fishermen ran after them. ‘Ah saay, mister,’ said he, -turning the half-crown over in his hand, ‘ya see ther’s three on uz, -an’ nut being schollars, wa’re bet ti knaw hoo ti share ’t oot; bud -Ah’ll tell ya what wa deea knaw,’ he added, with a merry twinkle in -his eye, ‘if ya war ti gi’e uz anuther sixpence, wa s’u’d ’ev a bob -apiece.’ And they got it. - -An old keeper was told off to hand the gun for a very poor shot. After -blazing away at several coveys, he turned to the old chap, saying, ‘I -am afraid you will think me a very bad shot!’ ‘Nut Ah. Ah think ’at Ah -nivver seed naebody shut better an’ hit warse i’ mah leyfe.’ ‘And yet -I have made many a good bag before to-day,’ said the sportsman, just -a wee bit nettled. ‘Aye, bud oor bo’ds flee, tha deean’t sit ti be -shutten at,’ was the quiet rejoinder. - -Lady —- said to one of her under-gardeners, ‘Thomas, the maids tell -me that you often say very nasty things about women; do you ever do -the same of the men?’ And then her ladyship looked him squarely in the -face, but Thomas was equal to the occasion. ‘Neea, my lady, that Ah -deean’t, acoz i’ that case it ’ud be trew, ya knaw.’ - -Tommy had been fishing on Sunday; he had been caught red-handed by the -Chapel minister. The good man read Tommy a long lesson on the enormity -of his sin, concluding by asking what Tommy had to say for himself. -‘It’s nut a real rod!’ ventured Tommy. ‘That does not matter,’ said his -judge; ‘the sin is just the same, and the Lord never prospers those who -break the sabbath.’ ‘Wha, then,’ promptly replied Tommy, ‘it mun ’a’e -been Au’d Scrat’ (i.e. Satan) ‘’at’s egg’d ’em on ti bite ti-daay, foor -Ah nivver catched sa monny afoor’—holding up a bottle fairly alive with -sticklebacks and minnows. - -Whether I am succeeding or not is for others to judge, but what I -am striving to do is to paint the various points in our character -faithfully. I am neither hiding nor glossing. Our brusquerie and -doggedness, our tenacity of opinion and keenness to acquire the -all-needful, our pride and independency, as also our want of that -respect for those who may consider themselves our superiors, have been -as fully and as truthfully set forth as space would admit of. - -On the other hand, our people are warm-hearted, hospitable to a degree, -and exhibit a deep sense of gratitude for favours received, such as -would never be credited by those who judge us by our rugged exterior. -But it is there, for all that. Let me give you two or three stories -quite true, which prove to some extent what I have just asserted. - -A woman possessed an old, carved corner cupboard, not really worth -much, but it had been her mother’s, and she prized it greatly—in fact, -far above its market value. The village doctor had often tried to buy -it, but without success. Her husband falling seriously ill, the doctor -was called in, and though there was no hope of a long bill being paid, -he was most assiduous in his attendance day and night. When recovering, -the patient, fully aware that he had been fairly snatched from the -grave, said to his wife one night, when she was sitting by the bedside, -‘Fanny, thoo’ll ’a’e ti let t’ doctor ’ev t’ cupboard.’ He well knew -what a wrench this would be, and was no little surprised when his wife -replied, ‘Bless tha, mun, ez seean ez ivver thoo gat a to’n foor t’ -better, Ah ’ed t’ cupboard rovven doon, an’ sent Bob wi’ ‘t. Doctor -didn’t want ti ’a’e ’t, an’ sent it back, bud Ah sent Bob wiv it agaan, -an’ tell’d him ti saay ’at if he sent it back onny mair Ah’d mak -firewood on ’t. Thoo’s wo’th mair ’an all t’ cupboards i’ t’ wo’lld ti -me, an’ it war t’ only road ther war o’ paying him.’ - -Again. An old dame having been ill for a long time, recovered, much to -the surprise of every one. During her long illness a certain lady often -visited her, and sent her many little comforts. Some months after the -old dame’s recovery, she presented her benefactress with an elaborate -clip-hearthrug. For this the lady wished to pay her, but that the old -dame almost indignantly refused. ‘Neea, mum,’ said she, with tears in -her eyes; ‘Ah’ve ’ed ommaist ivvery bit o’ t’ stuff gi’en ma ’at Ah’ve -maad t’ clips on, an’ if ivvery prod ’at Ah’ve gi’en an’ ivvery clip -’at Ah’ve cutten war a gowden guinea, it wadn’t mak up foor hauf your -kindness ti me.’ Oh no, they do not lack gratitude. - -The vicar’s bride had a remark made to her by one of the oldest men in -the village, which seemed to her to have a nasty application, but in -its idiomatic sense it was quite innocent of any such construction; -and the remark as addressed to the lady was certainly given in its -idiomatic form. By-and-by she learnt she had been a little hasty in -condemning the old fellow. However, to make up for any unkindness on -her part, she engaged the old man as a sort of anything-you-like about -the vicarage. It was not long ere the old chap won a very warm place in -the lady’s heart. This was after the arrival of the baby. Every night, -when his work was done, he would say, ‘Noo then what, Ah’ve deean; bud -Ah mun ’ev a leeak at t’ baa’n afoor Ah gan.’ One evening, after this -same formula had been gone through, he said, ‘Noo, Ah’ll tell ya what; -t’ baa’n’s nut sa varra weel ti-neet, an’ Ah knaw a seet mair aboot -babbies ’an what you deea. Noo you mun put ’t iv a hot bath, an’ then -hap ’t up an’ keep ’t varra warm. Noo you mun deea ez Ah’ve tell’d -ya.’ With this admonition he left the vicarage, and, though turned -seventy-eight years of age, set off at once to trudge seven miles for -a doctor, landing back again about midnight. The doctor assured the -delighted mother that, having followed the old man’s advice, and with -the remedies he had brought, a severe fit of croup had been staved off. -Oh yes, these blunt country-people have feelings. And they are grateful. - -Gratitude shows itself in different ways, sometimes in a form of -self-sacrifice, as in the following, which occurred not so very long -ago. Said a vicar to one of his parishioners—who, by-the-way, was a -notorious poacher—‘I am very pleased to see you coming to church so -regularly; very pleased, indeed, William; and I trust that it may lead -you to see the error of your past life.’ ‘Well, Ah wadn’t gan sa far ez -ti saay ’at owt o’ that soart’s leykley ti happen, bud Ah s’ cum ti t’ -chetch, for all that.’ ‘And may I ask the reason for this sudden change -in your life?’ inquired the parson. ‘Whya noo, it war i’ this waay. Me -an’ Luke an’ tweea or three uthers war talking ya ower yah neet i’ t’ -Swan, an’ Luke sed ’at he didn’t ho’d wi’ neea parsons ’at hunted, an’ -Ah sed ’at a parson war nowt neea different ti neeabody else, when he’d -ta’en t’ white goon off, an’ ‘at it maad neea odds whether ya hunted or -whether ya didn’t. Bud t’ main on ’em seeamed ti ho’d ’at ya warn’t -i’ t’ reet on ’t hunting. And seea Ah thowt ti mysen, t’ parson’s -offens deean me a good to’n, an’ if ther’s gahin to be sike a lot o’ -narrer-mahnded fau’k i’ t’ village—an’ being a bit of a sportsman -mysen, ya knaw—wha, Ah sez, noo Ah’ll gan ti chetch if it’s foor nowt -else bud ti back ya up a bit, an’ sa Ah cums.’ - -The hospitality of the Yorkshire people is so well known, and so -generally admitted by all those who have been recipients of the same, -that I purpose just leaving it as an established fact. Still, there -is one curious offshoot from this generous branch, which needs _en -passant_ a moment’s consideration. - -I once heard a South-country man say, ‘Yorkshire people give you more -than you want at their table, and then beg from you on the doorstep.’ -And to those who know nothing of our ways, usages, and customs, -such would almost seem to be the case. Of course, as put by the -South-country man, the statement, if complete, would stamp Yorkshire -and its people as being rather more than contemptible. But such is not -the case, and when the reason for the remark was perfectly sifted, -the notion which had got such a firm hold of the speaker was found to -have been based on a want of knowledge of the elementary rules which -govern the unwritten law of bargaining. Why, pages could be written on -bargaining, and stories told by the score. - -But when a bargain has been concluded, the money paid, the receipt -given, a substantial meal partaken of, with grog, &c., ad lib., it -becomes quite easy to understand the South-country man’s surprise, -on leaving the house, to be asked ’ti gi’e summat back foor luck.’ -To him, not knowing our ways, the transaction was completed; with us -it was not, and therein lies the difference. It does strike one as -peculiar to find such marked generosity, when run on certain lines, -only to be confronted the next step with some little action which at -first sight looks very much like meanness. But all this misconception -vanishes if we bear in mind that _hospitality_ and _business_ are never -made to clash; they, as it were, occupy separate rooms. - -I have a story in my mind which illustrates fully these peculiarities, -as well as others already mentioned. As it was given to me by his -lordship, so briefly let me give it to you. - -One day two of a shooting party, his lordship and the Hon. G——, decided -to give their guns a rest, and visit an ancient church some six miles -distant. They were strongly advised to take a keeper with them, but -feeling quite sure they could find their way, started by themselves. -Possibly they might have succeeded, had not a sea fret and heavy fog -wrapped the whole moor in a shroud. They were lost, and they knew it. -Fortunately, when quite worn out, they discovered a farm-house; and on -inquiry they were told that they had wandered much out of their way, -being then quite ten miles from the shooting-box. Too tired to walk -back, they asked the farmer if he could possibly drive them. ‘Whya, -Ah c’u’d,’ said he, ‘bud it’s a langish waay, an’ mah meer’s a bit -tired; Ah’d ommaist rayther set ya ti wheer you c’u’dn’t loss yersels.’ -They, however, declared they were too tired to think of walking, and -offered him half a sovereign as an inducement. Then the bargaining -propensity came to the surface. ‘Haaf a sover’ign!’ said he. ‘Neea, -what ya’ll ’a’e ti mak it fifteen bob.’ To which they assented. During -this bargaining, the good wife was spreading the table with abundance -of food. ‘Noo then,’ said the good man, ‘ya mun’ reeach teea an’ mak -yersens at heeam. Ya’re welcome ti t’ best o’ what wa’ve gitten; -deean’t be neyce aboot it, ther’s plenty mair wheer that’s cum’d fra; -Ah’ll cum roond wi’ t’ meer efter a bit.’ When they were ready for -departure, one of them inquired how much they were indebted for their -splendid repast. To which the farmer, in characteristic fashion, made -answer: ‘What wa’ve gi’en ya, wa’ve gi’en ya, an’ ya’re welcome ti -’t; drhaaving ya ti t’ shutting-box war a bargain, an’ anuther thing -altigither, an’ ther’s nowt aboot that.’ And not a penny piece could -either be prevailed upon to receive for their hospitality. - -Just one other story, which illustrates the same propensity for -bargaining. A hamper containing a dead ‘pricky-back otch’n,’ with one -shilling carriage to pay, was delivered to one Pettigrew; by some means -he found out that the hamper had been the property of a friend of his, -named Tom Scott. But Scott declared on his word of honour that he was -innocent of the whole transaction. Unfortunately, Pettigrew did not -believe him, in consequence of which a coolness sprang up, which lasted -for two years. At the expiration of that time, Pettigrew met Scott one -market-day. ‘Whya, noo then,’ said he, ‘they tell ma ’at thoo’s gahin -ti wed mah cousin Martha; is ’t trew?’ ‘Aye, it’s trew hard eneeaf, Ah -is, hooivver,’ acknowledged Scott. ‘Whya, then thoo knaws thee an’ me -owtn’t ti be at loggerheeads when t’ ane’s gahin ti be related ti t’ -ither; owt wa, noo?’ ‘Neea, bud thoo knaws ’at it’s neea fau’t o’ mahn; -Ah’ve nowt agaan tha, thoo knaws,’ said Scott. - -‘Wha, bud Ah’d gert call ti blaam tha; thoo’ll awn ti t’ hamper, -weean’t ta?’ ‘Aye, Ah nivver, ’at Ah mahnd on, ivver tried ti disawn -’t. What mud Ah foor? Sumboddy stowl ’t; Ah c’u’dn’t help that, onny -road, c’u’d Ah?’ - -‘Then thoo’d nowt i’ t’ wo’lld ti deea wi’ t’ pricky-back otch’n?’ -‘Ah’ve tell’d tha ower an’ up agaan i’ tahms back ’at Ah’d nivver -nowt i’ noa waay whatsoivver owt ti deea wi’ t’ otch’n,’ said Scott, -emphatically. - -‘Whya, thoo knaws ’at Ah ’ed a shilling ti pay for ’t cuming; what’s -gahin ti be deean aboot that, then?’ ‘Whya, thoo dizn’t leeak ti me for -’t, diz ta?’ ‘Whya, Ah war that oot o’ pocket, an’ it war thi hamper -’at it cam in hard eneeaf.’ ‘Aye, an’ Ah’ll tell tha what, thoo’s -nivver let ma ’a’e ’t back agaan; bud nivver mahnd, thoo mun keep t’ -hamper, an’ wa’ll lap t’ job up that waay,’ magnanimously offered Scott. - -‘Ah see ’at Ah’s boun ti be oot o’ pocket wi’ t’ otch’n,’ persisted -Pettigrew, ‘bud Ah’ll tell tha what, thoo mun stan’ uz a glass foor -friendship’s sake.’ ‘Whya, noo then, ez Ah’s gahin ti wed thi cusin -Martha, cu’ thi waay.’ And so the matter was settled. - - - - - CHAPTER V - - WIT AND CHARACTER—_continued_ - - -I purpose devoting this chapter to stories which in themselves are -good examples, embracing, as they do, many phases of Yorkshire -character. With the exception of the first two or three, they will be -given regardless of classification. But these two or three do need -just a word. Our country-people, in their own way, hold in sincere -veneration all spiritual teaching; but don’t look for too much. Bear -in mind, superstition dies hard, and in judging them on this head, it -is well to keep to the forefront the fact that in religion, as well -as in everything else, they cling to much which their grandmothers -believed before them, just as they speak of their parents as ‘t’ au’d -fau’k,’ without in the least being disrespectful. So, without the least -intention of being irreverent, the Deity is often addressed and spoken -of in a manner which would shock the ears of many. ‘Ah wadn’t ’a’e -deean that if Ah’d been Him,’ said an old dame, after hearing how the -Israelites had been punished by God’s vengeance. ‘He owt ti ’a’e letten -’em off that tahm,’ was her concluding remark. It was her opinion, and -she freely gave it. The Deity being spoken of as ‘Him’ and ‘He,’ was -as natural to the old lady as it would have been for us to say ‘the -Lord.’ Anyway, for real piety, I for one make my bow to the old dame. - -Again, they have a way of materializing the most spiritual things. -To them, heaven is nothing more than a big, beautiful city, which -they have to try their best to get into, and having managed to do so, -they are safe for ever. Doubtlessly they picture it sunnier, purer, -and altogether more delightful than any place they have ever seen or -heard of. But to them it is just a city. Certainly this applies more -especially to the older people in our dales; the rising generation are -learning different, but it will be long before they altogether leave -the old and beaten track. And may it be so, for, after all, their -religion is to them a very real and tangible thing. It is something -which in these days of higher criticism many of us are letting slip -from us. When reading the following stories, it should be borne in mind -why they are given, and just what I wish to illustrate. - -A clergyman having asked an old dying woman if she were quite happy, -received this reply: ‘Neea, that Ah isn’t. Ah’s boun to dee, an’ Ah -s’ gan ti heaven, an’ it’s that what’s boddering ma. Nut gahin ti -heaven—Ah deean’t meean that—bud t’ music,’ said she, emphatically. -‘Ya see, Ah’ve nivver larnt nowt o’ music; Ah knaw nowt aboot it, an’ -if tha start ma off wiv owther a harp or a dulcima, Ah s’all mak nowt -bud a laughing-stock o’ mysel, for Ah can nowther tune ner scrat on -’em. Noo, if ’t c’u’d be ’ranged foor ma ti tak care o’ yan o’ t’ angel -babbies, Ah s’u’d be ez reet ez ninepins, foor Ah allus did git on wi’ -childer, an’ Ah’d fetch it up a pattern, an’ Ah’d promise nivver ti -slap it; onny road, Ah s’all mak nowt ow ’t wiv a dulcima.’ - -The village artist was dying; he had painted three out of the four -village signs, he had executed the scrollwork for every church -decoration for years past, and there was in his house an imitation -marble mantelpiece, which he had yearned to show every one. The -clergyman was about to leave him, but before doing so, asked if he -should pray. ‘Aye, aye,’ said the dying man, ‘and ez mebbe this’ll be -t’ last tahm ’at ya will pray foor ma, Ah s’u’d be glad if ya’d mention -’at Ah’s a good hand at decorating; it’ll mebbe help yan a bit.’ - -Old Matthew was a well-known character. For years both he and his old -dame lived in a little cottage near Newton-under-Rosebery. When on -his death-bed, a lady, after reading to him, said, ‘And after all I -have read and told you, Matthew, heaven is more beautiful than you can -possibly imagine; you might lie and call to mind all the beautiful -things you have either seen or dreamt of, and even then you would not -have the least idea what heaven is like.’ To say the least, she was -somewhat surprised when the old man, gently patting her hand, said in -a whisper, ‘Ya mebbe deean’t knaw ’at Ah yance seed Leeds pantomine; -that gave yan a inkling.’ N.B.—The Yorkshire people always pronounce -‘pantomime’ as spelt above. - -Old Bessy, who lived in an old house near Kildale, was very near the -borderland. The clergyman found her quite happy and reconciled, and on -leaving her (he was going away for some time), said, ‘Well, goodbye, -Bessy; I may never see you on earth again, but I shall hope to meet you -in heaven.’ ‘Aye, an’ Ah s’ leeak oot for ya cuming; an’ deean’t forgit -’at neean on uz is nowt na different up yonder, so you maun’t git yer -back up if Ah just shak ya byv t’ han’, an’ saay, famil’ar leyke, ’at -Ah’s glad ti see ’at ya’ve mannished it.’ - -The rest of this chapter is merely a collection of Yorkshire stories, -which I think should not be lost, and which I leave to the perspicuity -of my readers, who doubtless, without any hints from me, will grasp the -many different phases of character contained therein. - -The tire had come off the cart wheel, and the Tyke was in a bit of a -fix; shortly afterwards a cyclist drew up, and dismounting, remarked, -‘Punctchard. Can I lend you my pump?’ and then burst out laughing -at the man’s dilemma and his own wit. ‘Punctchard? neea, Ah isn’t -punctchard,’ retorted the Tyke, in fairly good imitation of the -would-be wit. ‘An’ thoo can stick ti thi pump; bud Ah deean’t knaw what -thoo wants it fer, fer thoo’d be all t’ better if thoo war punctchard -thisen a larl bit; it ’ud let sum o’ thi gas oot, foor thoo’s ommaist -brussen wi’ ‘t.’ And then he set to work to replace the tyre, as though -no cyclist had appeared upon the scene. - -Several rustics were admiring two brand-new machines, whilst the owners -(a lady and gentleman) regaled themselves in the village pub. When -about to start on their journey again, the young fellow, taking stock -of the group, and, as he thought, seeing good material for a joke, -said, ‘Admiring our machines?’ and then, nudging his fair companion, -continued, ‘These are the very latest; they can either be used as -cycles, musical boxes, or garden mowers. I only have to turn a screw, -that’s all. Clever, aren’t they?’ ‘Aye!’ said one of the group, looking -as if he had swallowed every word just uttered. ‘It’s wunnerful what -they’ve gitten ’em ti deea noo; my weyfe’s gitten yan ’at gans wiv a -can an’ milks t’ coos all byv itsen.’ Then those two proceeded on their -journey. - -There had been a terrific thunderstorm, lasting most of the night. -Talking the matter over next day, one said, ‘Did ta ivver hear owt -ti cum up tul ’t?’ ‘Naay, it gav mah a to’n yance or twice. What diz -ta mak on’t?’ ‘It’s t’ aliments’ (elements), ’thoo knaws; it’s t’ -aliments.’ ‘Aye, thoo’s reet, it’ll be t’ aliments; bud, Ah saay, it -sets yan on ti think.’ ‘It diz, an’ all; just eftther that despert lood -crack cam, Ah thowt ti mysen, it’s gahin ti be all owered wiv uz; an’ -foor a larl bit Ah wished ’at Ah’d ta’en Tom’s bid foor t’ colt.’ - -A delightful gathering had taken place at the rectory, followed by a -most sumptuous tea. The people had come to celebrate the home-coming of -the rector and his bride (a very dear South-country lady). After tea, -the bride, speaking to an old fellow, said, ‘I hope you have enjoyed -yourself?’ To which kind inquiry he promptly replied, ‘Whya noo, Ah’ve -been at monny a warse do ner this—Ah ’ev that.’ This really was the -very highest praise he could possibly have given. The bride, somewhat -annoyed at what she considered the ingratitude of the man, turned to -an old dame she saw walking down the drive. ‘Have you tired yourself?’ -she kindly inquired. ‘Tired mysen? Neea, Ah’ve nut tired mysen. Ah -’edn’t need git mysen tew’d at a do leyke this. Ah’s nut tired, bud -Ah’s gahin yam. Ah wad ’a’e stopped on ti t’ end, bud ther’s that monny -flees aboot t’ pleeace, whahl yan dizn’t knaw what ti deea wi’ yan’s -sen, an’ sae Ah’s foor off.’ The only thing which had been made at all -clear to the bride was that the old lady complained of being troubled -with fleas, which she found too many for her. ‘Fleas!’ said she; ‘I -feel sure you are mistaken.’ To which the old lady made this reply: -‘Noa, Ah’s nut; but Ah deean’t meean fleas ’at’s fleas, bud flees ’at -flee’ (flies that fly), leaving the rector’s wife more bewildered than -ever. - -A new-comer related to those assembled in the village bar a most -marvellous story of an accident from which his son had just -recovered. If anything, it erred on the side of being just a trifle -too marvellous. Several said, ‘How wonderful!’ but there was one man -sitting in the far corner, and spake he never a word. ‘Perhaps you -doubt my story?’ ventured the narrator. ‘Nut Ah. Ah’ve neea call ti -doot owt ’at ya’ve tell’d uz, foor yance yan o’ mah lads swaller’d a -pin, an’ ya can tak mah wo’d for ’t, bud i’ less ’an a month eftther it -cam oot o’ t’ back ov his brother’s neck. That’ll match your taal onny -daay.’ - -The following conversation between two old mothers was overheard by a -clergyman who happened to be travelling in the same compartment of the -train. Said one to the other, ‘Whya, noo then, wa’ve gitten him sahded -by.’ ‘Aye, wa ’ev,’ sighed the other; ‘Ah’ve knawn him ivver sin he -war a lad.’ ‘Thoo ’ez, an’ what thoo knaws ’at Ah went ti skeeal wiv -him?’ ‘Aye, thoo did,’ said her friend; ‘Ah’d forgitten that. Ah saay, -Mary, what a beautiful corpse he maad—sae still an’ sae quiet, bud they -maistly are.’ ‘Aye, aye,’ said Mary, slowly adding, ‘bud what a tea it -war; Ah’ve nivver been at sike an a-sitting doon i’ mah leyfe; ther -war nowt bud tea-cakes, an’ badly buttered at that. Noo Ah’ve sahded -fahve o’ my awn, bud thank the Lord Ah buried ’em all wi’ ham,’ which -was a sign not only of great respectability, but as having shown proper -respect to the dead. - -Taking my seat in a third-class carriage at Malton, two men and a woman -joined me, and much edified by their conversation I was. They commenced -discussing the merits of an entertainment which had been given the -night previous in one of the villages in the neighbourhood. I gathered -from their remarks that Lady M—— and the Hon. Mrs. B—— had taken an -active part in organizing the same. However, for the moment, Lady M—— -was very freely discussed. The woman had possession of the carriage, -and almost without drawing breath said, ‘Noo, sha’s a grand un, is t’ -au’d leddy; sha’s gam foor owt. Mah songs, Ah nivver cam across t’ -leykes on her onnywheear else; bud ther isn’t sike anuther onnywheear -aboot here, an’ Ah knaw summat aboot t’ maist on ’em. Sha’s nut yan o’ -theease twopenny-haupenny upstarts ’at dizn’t knaw what’s matter wiv -’em hauf ther tahm. Aye, sha’s a grand un, is t’ au’d leddy.’ ‘Aye, sha -is,’ joined in one of the men, as the woman ceased for want of breath. -‘An’ Ah’ll tell ya what, that au’dist lad ov hers isn’t a bad un, an’ -Ah meean ti saay ’at his lordship can rear poultry ’at neean on ’em -can touch aboot here; noo, he can. He’s a rare han’ wi’ bo’ds, is his -lordship.’ ‘Him rear poultry!’ burst in the woman. ‘Him rear poultry!’ -she repeated, with ineffable scorn; and then, slowly and emphatically -(you, who are Yorkshire people, know exactly what I mean), she added, -‘Ah meean ti saay ’at t’ au’d leddy can mak a hen lay mair eggs ’an -onny man, woman, or bairn i’ this countrysahd; an’ Ah’ll tell ya what, -if tha deean’t gi’e her yan o’ t’ best harps ti plaay on when sha dees -an’ gans ti heaven, Ah’ll ’a’e nowt ti deea wi’ ‘t.’ - -A vicar once asked his sexton what he thought of the previous Sunday’s -preacher. The pulpit had been occupied on that occasion by a clergyman -whose oratorical powers are pretty widely known, but whose sermon had -been quite over the heads of his congregation on that particular day. -The reply the vicar got was certainly to the point. ‘Whya, Ah wadn’t -saay bud what mebbe you mud larn summat fra what he tell’d uz, acoz -ther’s neea doot ’at he war varra far larnt; bud ez foor me, an’ t’ -likes o’ me, wa’d reyther sit an’ lissen ti t’ saam au’d ditties fra -you ’at wa’ve heeard ower an’ up agaan. Aye, that wa wad; ya see, wa -knaw what’s cuming.’ - -A neighbour’s third wife lay dead. Said a dame to the husband, ‘Mary’s -gone! Dear me, hoo sum fau’k diz ’ev bad luck; thoo’ll ’a’e ti gan ti -t’ burying, hooivver.’ ‘Naay,’ said the husband, ‘Ah deean’t think ’at -Ah s’all gan this tahm; Ah went ti t’ tother tweea—they’ll ‘ ti mannish -bidoot ma this tahm.’ ‘Naay, what, thoo’ll ’a’e ti gan, hooivver; it’ll -nivver deea eftther seeing t’ other tweea sahded by, nut ti gan ti t’ -tho’d un. Whativver maks tha think ’at thoo weean’t gan?’ ‘Whya, thoo -sees, it’s ez thoo sez, Ah’ve seen tweea on ’em sahded by, an’ Ah think -’at it leeaks a bit greedy ti gan ti t’ tho’d un. Thoo sees, up ti noo -Ah’ve nivver been yabble ti return t’ compliment, an’ Ah deean’t leyke -ti put on a chap, an’ Ah s’aan’t gan.’ - -A good dame found her husband lying on the chamber floor. ‘Whativver -is ta deeaing, ligging on t’ cham’er fleear foor?’ ‘Aa, lass,’ the old -chap groaned, ‘Ah thowt Ah war boun ti dee; Ah did, hooivver. If ivver -Ah’s ta’en leyke that agaan, Ah s’aan’t cum round na mair; thoo’ll -finnd ma deead wheear Ah tumm’ls.’ ‘Whya, let’s get tha inti bed, an’ -Ah’ll fetch tha a basin o’ gruel up; an’ Ah’ll put t’ au’d stick byv t’ -sahd o’ t’ bed, an’ thoo mun think on ’at thoo mun thump on t’ fleear -if thoo’s ta’en queer agaan; whativver thoo diz, noo, thoo maun’t dee -unbeknawn. It’s varra inconsiderate o’ fau’k ti tak thersens off i’ -that waay,’ said the wife, bustling about. ‘Bud thoo knaws yan caan’t -help ’t,’ said the old chap. ‘Whya, thoo mun deea thi best, an’ bear -i’ mahnd what a tideea ther wad ’a’e been if Ah’d happened ti finnd -tha deead on t’ fleear. Crowner wad ’ev ’ed ti cum’d, an’ all t’ jury -chaps gahin in an’ oot ez if t’ pleeace warn’t yan’s awn, an’ leykly -eneeaf afoor yan ’ed gitten tidied up, an’ then Ah s’u’d ’a’e ’ed t’ -bobby fussing aboot an’ assing all manner o’ quessions, an’ Ah deean’t -knaw what else. Noo, thoo mauh’t let ma in foor a gahin-on leyke that. -Ah’ve putten tha t’ stick handy, seea mahnd thoo dizn’t drop off bidoot -gi’ing yan warning. It weean’t tew tha mich ti thump on t’ fleear, an’ -then Ah’ll be up iv a crack. Noo, deean’t forgit thoo ’ezn’t ti dee -bidoot thumping.’ - -Old Sally was dying. On being asked by the vicar if she felt quite -happy, the old lady said, with great unction, ‘Oh yes, Ah s’all seean -be iv Jacob’s bosom.’ ‘Abraham’s bosom, Sally,’ corrected the vicar. -‘Aye, well, mebbe it is, bud if you’d been unmarried for sixty-fahve -year, leyke what Ah ’ev, ya wudn’t be particular wheeas bosom it war, -seea lang ez ya gat inti sumbody’s.’ - -A good story is told in Gloucestershire, which is a fair example that -Yorkshiremen are credited with being able to take care of themselves by -those of other counties. An ostler at one of the inns in that county in -a general way managed to draw a tip from all who put up, even from one -or two chaps who were well known as being very greedy. Said a gentleman -one day to the ostler, who had just led out of the yard the horse and -trap of one of these penurious old chaps, ‘Did you manage to drag a tip -out of him?’ ‘Aye,’ said the ostler, ‘he awlus gi’es ma summat, bud it -ommaist brecks his heart ivvery tahm he gans away.’ ‘Yorkshire, are you -not?’ questioned the gentleman. ‘Aye, Ah’s Yorkshire hard eneeaf,’ was -the characteristic reply. ‘Why,’ said the questioner, with a smile, -‘I am a bit surprised, seeing that you have been here so long, that -the whole place doesn’t belong to you.’ To which, with a twinkle in -his eye, the ostler replied, ‘It mebbe wad ’a’e deean afoor noo, if my -maister ’edn’t been Yorkshire an’ all.’ - -A story is told of two Yorkshire Tykes bargaining—of course this was a -case of ’when Greek meets Greek.’ Said one, ‘Whya, noo then, John, what -diz ta think if wa mak a unseen swap on ’t? Thoo ’ezn’t seen mah meer, -an’ Ah ’evn’t seen tha cob; bud Ah knaw ’at thoo awlus leyked t’ meer, -an’ Ah’ve awlus ’ed a bit ov a leaning ti t’ cob, an’ wa’ve knawn t’ -ane t’ ither foor a lang whahl—noo, what diz ta saay?’ ‘Whya noo, ez -thoo sez wa’ve knawn t’ ane t’ ither ivver sen wa war lads, an’ ez thoo -’ezn’t seen t’ cob an’ Ah ’evn’t seen t’ meer, whya, thoo mun ho’d the -han’ oot.’ And so the bargain was struck. Then said one to the other, -‘Whya, it’s owered noo. Ther’s neea backing oot fra t’ bargain noo, -bud Ah aim ’at thoo war a larl bit ti keen. Thoo sees it’s leyke this: -t’ meer’s geean that deead laam, ’at Ah deean’t think ’at sha’ll ivver -gan agaan,’ ‘Oha, why, nivver mahnd,’ said the other; ‘t’ cob’s deead -altigither, an’ flayed.’ - -In the preceding five chapters, I have striven to give you some insight -into the character of our people. This, however, has not been my only -aim. I have endeavoured—and shall continue to do so—to put the dialect -in such a way as to be easily mastered by my readers, even should they -be strangers to our county. - -Please bear in mind that the North and East Ridings dialectically are -the same. Certainly some few words have been retained or dropped, as -the case may be, in each Riding, but the pronunciation is identical, -or at least almost so. These remarks, however, do not hold good when -applied to the West Riding. Ripon (my native place) and Leeds are not -very far distant, only twenty-six miles. Ripon, although in the West -Riding, is to all intents dialectically in the North, but by the time -you have travelled the twenty-six miles all is changed—you have as it -were crossed the line. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - CUSTOMS OF THE YEAR AND FOLKLORE - - -Custom and folklore are so interwoven that it is quite impossible to -write of them separately. The North Riding to-day is _par excellence_ -the home of both. This is easily accounted for. Many of the dales -are far removed from the varied influences of the outer world; they -are little communities; they belong to themselves. Many of the older -people have never seen a locomotive. It is in and about such places the -student may gather a rich harvest of folklore, always remembering that -any given area is not the whole of the riding, much less of Yorkshire. -I mention this because a custom, superstition, or peculiarity of -dialect, which may still flourish in one dale, may be quite unknown in -some other part of the riding. Bear in mind the riding, within a very -few miles, stretches from the North Sea to St. George’s Channel; so -it will be readily conceived that over such an extensive area, much -of which is sparsely populated and not easy of access, custom and -superstition still go hand in hand. - -Our greatest observance of custom is, as it should be, in connexion -with Christmastide; indeed preparation for the same really commences -some weeks in advance. There is the pudding to make and partly boil; -all the ingredients for the plum-cake to order; the mincemeat to -prepare for the mince-pies; the goose to choose from some neighbouring -farmer’s stock; the cheese to buy and the wheat to have the hullins -beaten off, and to cree, for the all-important frumenty; the yule-cakes -or pepper-cake to make; the hollin to gather; the mistletoe and Santa -Claus presents to buy for the little folk’s stockings; the old yule -log and a new one to see after, as well as the yule candles. Even long -before these various duties have been taken in hand, children nightly -sing their Christmas carols on our doorstep, reminding us the great -event of the year is fast approaching, when peace and good will should -be extended to all men. The ’vessel-cups’ (i.e. wassail-cup) still come -round, with their doll in a box, decked out as the Virgin Mary, lying -in pink cotton-wool and evergreens. Some of these vessel-cups are in -their way quite little works of art. I remember (up to the time I left -Guisborough five years ago) Lavinia Leather travelled every year all -the way from the other side of Leeds, to sing the vessel-cup throughout -that part of Cleveland. As my wife had known the old body for many -years, we always had a call. There was no mistaking the advent of -Christmas, when, after unceremoniously opening the door, the old lady -commenced saying,— - - God bless t’ maaster of this hoos, - An’ t’ mis-ter-ess also, - An’ all yer lahtle bonny bairns - ‘At round yer table go! - - Fer it is at this tahm - Straangers travel far an’ near. - Seea Ah wish ya a merry Kessamas - An’ a happy New ‘Ear. - -But the days speed on, until there comes a night when the charred -remains of last year’s yule log glow with heat intense beneath the one -of that year’s cutting; for the new log must always rest upon and be -lighted by the old one, which has been carefully stored away for this, -the night of nights—Christmas Eve. The lads have kissed the lasses -under the mistletoe, fashioned out of two hoops bedecked with holly, -oranges, and apples, and with a bunch of the mystic white berries -glistening beneath. Every picture-frame, ornament, and everywhere, -where a sprig of holly would remain, has had the dark green leaves and -red berries thrust into or behind it. The old folk clasp each other’s -hands, knowingly nodding their heads the while, ‘for they remember,’ -and, remembering, note the flashing eyes and whispered nothings, -sweet and low, of those whose horizon for the present is illumined -with love, with never a cloud in sight. Shrieks of laughter loud and -hilarious from the younger branches ring from basement to roof, almost -deafening the ’au’d fau’k,’ but a smile lights up their wrinkled faces -as they remember. By-and-by, the magic words uttered by the maid, ‘T’ -frummety’s riddy,’ results in a rush for the dining-room or kitchen, -as the case may be. But first the yule candle must be lighted by the -master of the house. This must be done from a piece of the candle -saved from the year previous; it too must be lighted from the blaze -of the yule log, and on no account must anything be lighted from it. -That would be as unlucky as giving or receiving a light on Christmas -Day. Next, a cross must be scraped on the top of the uncut cheese, and -then, after having wished the guests assembled ‘A merry Christmas,’ -the frumenty may be attacked. And very palatable is the creed-wheat -when boiled in milk, thickened with ’lithing,’ seasoned with nutmeg -and cloves, and sweetened with treacle. After this there are the -yule-cakes, one for each person, with a dice of cheese and a glass of -mulled ale or hot elder-berry wine. - -By-and-by the younger ones are packed off to bed, and with us, as -the world over, their stockings are hung at the bed-foot to await -the mysterious visit of Santa Claus. It may be the sword-dancers are -announced; if so, their quaint performance is gone through, they are -served with ’summat to keep ’em warm’ and a few coppers, and they -depart for pastures new[3]. Some maiden mayhap has retired to her -chamber with a leaf and a berry plucked from the mistletoe under -which she has been saluted. Having locked her door, the berry must be -swallowed, whilst on the leaf she will prick the initials of him her -heart loves best; this she will stitch in the inside of her corset, so -that it rest near her heart, and thus bind his love to her so long as -there it remains. - -In the early hours of the morning the waits will arrive, and tunefully -or otherwise sing ‘Christians, awake,’ and, unless precautions are -taken to stuff the bell with paper and fasten down the knocker, there -will be no sleep after five o’clock; for the children, in their -eagerness to catch the early worm, follow one another without a -moment’s rest, singing loudly through your key-hole one or other of -their Christmas greetings, as— - - I wish ya a merry Kessamas - An’ a happy New ‘Ear, - A poss (purse) full o’ money - An’ a barrel full o’ beer, - A good fat pig - ‘At’ll sarve ya thruff t’ year, - An’ pleease will ya gi’e ma - My Kessamas box. - -Gentle and simple herald Christmas morn[4] with kindly greetings, ‘A -merry Christmas to you,’ as they pass. And oh the parties, night after -night, the games, postman’s knock, hunting the slipper, spinning the -trencher, cushion dance, forfeits, &c.! Aye, but we knew how to enjoy -ourselves when I was a lad, and in many of our dales to-day Christmas -is Christmas still, with all the old observances treasured; aye, and -the old old games too. Amidst such scenes one is apt to forget that the -hair is turning grey at the sides, and easy to brush on the crown. - -The Christmas dinner with its sirloin, turkey, or goose, followed by -the rich plum-pudding and mince-pies, in a greater or less degree, -is indulged in by all. Go where you may on and after Christmas -Day, either plum or pepper cake (a rich kind of gingerbread), or -spice-cake (a cheaper form of plum-cake) and cheese, will be found -upon the sideboard or table. ‘Ya mun ’ev a bit o’ keeak an’ cheese, -hooivver,’ say the country folk almost before you are seated. And be it -remembered, for every cake and cheese you taste one more happy month is -added to your life. - -On St. Stephen’s Eve maybe some will pay a visit to the ’coo byre’ in -the hope of seeing the oxen kneel, for the quaint notion still lives -that on this eve the oxen kneel in their stalls in commemoration of the -martyr’s death. - -On New Year’s Eve it is customary to eat the remains of the frumenty -left from Christmas Eve. This being finished, none other will be made -until the festive season comes round again. The older people always -watch the old year out and the new year in, which is made known by the -ringing of the church bells, and the loud knocking at your door of the -‘first foot or lucky bird.’ This happens immediately on the last stroke -of twelve. This first foot to cross your threshold—for none must go -out until the first foot has come in—must be a man or boy with dark -hair. Such only can bring luck to the household; for should he have -light hair, he would not be admitted, for he could only bring dire and -disastrous results. - -The same clamorous singing as on Christmas Day commences just as early -on New Year’s morn, greetings for the new year are as freely given, and -the festive season itself lasts pretty well on towards the middle of -the month. - -The dumb-cake is yet made—of which more hereafter—whilst other rites, -ceremonies, and charms are still indulged in by the buxom lasses of the -riding. - -By due observance of certain ritual performed on the eve of St. Agnes, -a maiden might have a vision of her future spouse. - -Very often, however, difficulties of no light kind had to be overcome, -before the ritual could be carried out in its entirety. And in some -cases, to my thinking, the maiden would need nerves of iron, and the -supple limbs of an acrobat, before she would be able to accomplish the -demands made upon her. - -Take for example the following, which was given to me by an old lady in -Rosedale:—At midnight on the eve of St. Agnes, a maiden must pluck from -the grave of a bachelor a blade of grass, walk backward from the grave -to the church gate, and then hurry to her bed-chamber. Safely there, -she had to lock her door, hanging the key on a nail outside the window, -then undress herself; but—and here comes the difficulty—her various -garments had to be removed in the same order as they had been put on, -that is, that which she had donned first must be taken off first. This -must have been a feat requiring great agility and no little patience, -exceeding by a long way the task of skinning an eel in the dark. No -doubt everything would be worn very loosely that day, and any undue -exertion must have rendered such a maid liable any moment to assume the -condition of a statue. Of one thing I am absolutely certain: did the -maid accomplish the feat so far as her skirts and other items of her -apparel are concerned, she would have to sleep with her boots on, for -her stockings would present a problem which jeers at the senile efforts -of the Sphinx. But, having performed the said ritual so far, it only -remained for her to wrap the blade of grass in a clean sheet of paper, -place it under her pillow, leave a burning candle near the window, and -retire to rest, when presently she would see the man who was to be her -husband open the window, look in, throw the key into the room, close -the window, and depart. Where the chamber was on the ground floor, -or ladders were handy, I can well understand this ritual would often -succeed. - -Maidens, however, may have a vision of their future lord and master(?) -without the necessity of almost dislocating their joints. For I find -at the present time it is only needful, on the day of the eve of St. -Agnes, to fast from the time of rising, only eating a little stale -bread and drinking parsley tea. On retiring to rest, remake your bed, -putting thereon clean sheets and pillow-cases, remembering to repeat as -you lay on each cover the following:— - - St. Agnes, I pray unto thee, - I, a maid, would married be, - So thou my husband show to me. - -Retire to rest, sleeping by yourself, and you will see the man you will -marry in a dream. Should you awake, my advice is—having seen the future -husband, get up and have a good supper; parsley tea and stale bread -for a day is not satisfying. There are other forms of the same charm, -differing only in minor details. - -The making of the dumb-cake, however, differs only in one particular -throughout the riding. Some hold that those engaged in its preparation -must stand on something upon which they have never stood before, no -two persons standing on a similar thing, e.g. a box-lid, a newspaper, -&c. Others altogether ignore this canon in the ritual. Therefore I -must leave my fair readers to decide which formula they will adopt, in -case they decide to make a dumb-cake for themselves. As to the actual -preparation, it must be begun after eleven o’clock p.m. on the eve of -St. Agnes, and either three, five, or seven maidens may take part. In -the making of a dumb-cake, each must take a handful of flour and lay -it on a sheet of clean paper (this must be pretty large), bearing in -mind that from the moment the first hand is dipped in the flour, not a -word must be uttered whilst the cake-makers remain in that room, or the -spell will be broken. - -Having each laid a handful of flour on the sheet of paper, all add a -small pinch of salt, water being also added, all taking part in working -the same into dough, every one kneading and assisting in rolling -the same into a thin cake, sufficiently large for each to mark her -initials in fairly large letters thereon. All must now lend a hand in -lifting it on to a tin, and in carrying it to the fire, in front of -which it must be laid. Having seated themselves as far from the fire -as possible, each will in turn rise, cross the room, and turn the cake -round once—not over, as it must be left the inscribed side uppermost. -All this having been accomplished before twelve strikes, remain quietly -seated; for, a few minutes after midnight, the husband of the maiden -who is to be married first will appear and touch her initials, often -leaving his fingermark upon the same. So there can be no doubt about -it. - -Should you have no opportunity of joining others in the preparation of -a dumb-cake, you may, if so inclined, on the Friday evening following -that of St. Agnes (some say any Friday but Good Friday), have a vision -of your future husband by a strict observance of the following:— - -Make a flat dough cake about the size of a crown piece; on this prick -the initials of the one you secretly love. Next procure three small -keys, all different, and make an impression of each on the underside -of the cake. On retiring to rest, thread the three keys on the garter -of your left leg, wrapping the same about the little cake; stitch -this ball to the inside of your nightdress so that it will rest in -the centre of your bosom, and you will then dream, either of the man -you love, or some other swain. If not of the one you love, then your -affections for the present are misplaced. - -The days in Holy Week are familiarly known as Collop Monday, Pancake -Tuesday, Frutas or Fritters Wednesday, Bloody Thorsday, - - An’ Lang Friday ’at’s nivver deean, - Seea lig i’ bed whahl Seterdaay neean. - -The usual menu for the week is still pretty much as it was. Collops of -bacon and fried eggs on Monday. Pancakes served with either treacle -or lemon-juice and sugar on Tuesday. Frutas, or fritters, made from -a light kind of tea-cake paste, only much richer in fruit and fried -either in lard or butter, on Wednesday; and, with many of humble -degree, black puddings on Thursday. Whilst on Friday, fast is kept on -any frutas which may have been spared from Wednesday’s feast, and -there always is a very considerable helping left over. - -Paste-egg or Troll-egg[5] Day, is now celebrated on Easter Monday, but -in days past Easter Day and Paste-egg Day were one. At the present -time the last five Sundays of Lent and Easter Day are still called -Tid, Mid, Miseray, Carlin’, and Paum, an’ Paste-egg Day. There is some -uncertainty as to what Tid and Mid mean, but there can be no doubt that -Miseray is a corruption of Miserere, the commencement of one of the -psalms ordered to be read during Lent. The whole of the names, however, -take us back to mediaeval times, and though some are inclined to think -that Tid means ‘Te Deum’ and Mid ‘Mid Lent,’ it seems to me careful -research will in time give a more plausible solution. Carling Sunday is -still observed in many places, grey peas fried with bacon or in butter -being a well-known dish on that day, many even carrying a goodly store -about in paper bags. At Great Ayton, and in many parts of Cleveland, -Carling Sunday is still fully observed. The same is equally true of -Palm Sunday, or, as it is called, ‘Paum Sunda,’ catkins, or lambs’ -tails, as they are universally designated, being carried in the hand, -thrust in the buttonhole, or worn in the hat, whilst many a mantelpiece -and ornament is often tastefully decorated with the same. From noon on -Easter Day to noon the following day, an old custom which is now only -kept up in remote villages, but which was quite general throughout the -riding when I was a lad, was that of one or more young fellows seizing -a female and forcibly pulling off her shoe, sometimes both, laces being -no protection. These were held in bondage until a fine was paid. This -very rough proceeding was formerly known as ’buckle-snatching,’ the old -name for the theft during the days when buckles were worn. However, -if the lads had their good time from the Sunday to Monday’s noon, the -lasses did not fail to retaliate from that time until noon on Tuesday. -From any hidden corner or doorway, out they rushed, and rarely failed -to snatch either a hat, whip, stick, handkerchief, or something, they -were not particular what, or to scratching either, generally managing -to recuperate themselves for any losses of the day previous. On Easter -Monday the bairns hie themselves to some field and roll or troll their -hard-boiled eggs dyed in many colours; this lasts until the egg is -broken, when the youngsters feed upon the contents. Many of the lads, -however, have a much speedier method of either adding to their store -of food or losing their egg. They jaup or jarp them together, i.e. one -lad strikes his egg against that of his opponent, when one or both are -broken; if only one, it is forfeited and becomes the property of the -conqueror. Shuttlecock and battledoor is now greatly _en evidence_ with -the girls, and knur and spell with the lads. One might well, and with -profit, write a chapter on the sequence of games, but such comes hardly -within the scope of this work. But here and there a few will be noted -when they have attached to them special peculiarities. - -There is an old custom, almost dead now. It is only in hidden and -unfrequented spots that it still survives—I mean ’the wading of the -sun.’ It was common enough thirty years ago. The _modus operandi_ was -as follows:—As the sun rose on Easter morn, a bucket of water was -placed in such a position that the sun was reflected in it. If the sun -waded, i.e. glimmered in the water, it would rain that day; but if it -kept fine in the morning and rained in the afternoon, then the spring -would be fine and the autumn wet, and vice versa. On this morning too -the flight of the crows was carefully observed; if they settled near -home, instead of flying far afield to feed, the farmer shook his head, -for they plainly told him, by so doing, that grub and other pests would -sorely afflict his crops that year. - -Friday is looked upon as an unlucky day to commence or conclude any -undertaking. It is considered unlucky for the first lamb to be dropped -on a Friday, to begin sowing or reaping, or to lead the last load on -that day. Should the weather be very threatening, instead of finishing -leading on the Friday, one stook is very often left, and not brought in -until the following day. - -Of St. Valentine’s Day we might truly write, ‘Poor St. Valentine! for -with thee it is Ichabod.’ No longer do we find shop windows filled -with works of art, wrought in silver, lace, and gold; no longer within -a coral bower, hung with icicles and rosebuds, is the maiden’s hand -clasped or waist encircled; no longer does a pathway of powdered -fish-scales lead direct to the little church seen in the far distance, -whilst the overfed cupid, who managed to sit on the edge of a very -thin cloud, must have fallen off and decamped with the couple of -skewered hearts which were usually floating at their own sweet will -’mid heaven. Hearts are at a discount now. Fifty years ago, love-making -was a very real and somewhat pedantic proceeding; in these days, when -time is money, the whole thing has been curtailed. It is—cut the -dialogue and come to the bank book. - -Why, there was a time, and only a few years ago, when as many pounds -were spent on these love tokens as pennies now. - -There may be, here and there, a maiden left who, before retiring to -rest, splits a holly twig and binds within the split part a small slip -of paper, upon which she has written, with her heart’s blood, the name -of him she loveth best, and who places the same under her pillow, -so that she may dream her fate. There may be, but I doubt it. Their -grandmothers did, though. - -Valentine’s Day may be dead, but April Fools’ Day is still with us. -‘Makking t’ feeal o’ yan’ is yet common. The last sell I heard of was -sending a lad from one place to another for a bucket of steam. I wonder -how long ago it is since the first boy was sent for ’a penn’orth o’ -strap oil’ or ’a pint ov pigeon’s milk,’ &c., &c. - -On Good Friday it is considered impious to dig or plough. - - On Good Friday rist thi pleeaf; - Start nowt, end nowt, that’s eneeaf. - -Perhaps one of the oldest customs is that in connexion with St. Mark’s -Eve. The belief is still held that those who watch the church porch at -the hour of midnight on that eve, will see pass in front of them and -enter the church the spirits of all those friends who will die during -the coming year. With some it is held to be a _sine qua non_ that the -watcher must sit within the porch; whilst others hold four cross roads -to be equally efficacious, always provided that the body of one who had -committed suicide, with the orthodox stake driven through the chest, -had been buried there, that being the end of suicides in the good old -days. - -It should be borne in mind that there are two slight penalties attached -to this porch or cross-road watching. - -Firstly, should the watcher fall asleep, there is every probability -of its being the sleep of death. Should he, however, manage to awaken -from such a lethargic slumber, it doesn’t amount to much, as he will -assuredly die within the next twelve months. Secondly, whoever tries -this game once must continue to do so ever afterwards. There is no -escape; the spell upon them is said to be too strong to withstand. - -Said an old fellow at Carthorpe, ‘Ah nivver watched mysen, bud one -James Haw used ti watch t’ deead gan in an’ cum oot o’ Bon’iston Chetch -ivvery St. Mark Eve ez it cam roond. He ’ed teea; he war forced tul’t, -he c’u’dn’t help hissen; he’d deean it yance, an’ ‘ed ti gan on wi’ -‘t. Aye, an’ he seed t’ sperrits ov all them ’at war gahin ti dee that -year, all on ’em dhrissed i’ ther natt’ral cleeas, or else hoo mud he -’a’e kenn’d whau tha war? They all passed cleease tiv him, bud neean on -’em ivver gav’ him a nod, na nowt o’ that soart. Bud,’ added he, almost -in a whisper, ‘them ’at duz it yance awlus ’ev ti deea’t; tha cann’t -ho’d thersens back, they’re forced ti gan ivvery tahm St. Mark’s Eve -cums roond. Mun! it’s a despert thing ti ’a’e ti deea, ’coz ya ’a’e ti -gan, whahl at t’ last end ya see yersen pass yersen, an’ then ya knaw -’at yer tahm’s cum’d an’ ‘at ya’ll be laid i’ t’ cau’d grund afoor that -daay cum twelve-month.’ - -There was another method of divination very commonly resorted to, known -by the name of ’caff riddling’ (chaff riddling). The rite was carried -out as follows:—At midnight, with the barn doors thrown wide open, a -quantity of chaff had to be riddled, those taking part in the ceremony -riddling in turn; should a coffin pass the door whilst any one was -working the sieve, that person would die within the year. A story is -still current in Malton of a woman who tried the above divination. It -would seem, some little time after she had commenced to riddle, two men -passed the open doors carrying a coffin, and on those who were with her -rushing outside to see where they went, neither men nor coffin were -anywhere to be seen. Only the woman saw the coffin. It is on record -that she died within the year. The occurrence took place about forty -years ago. - -Perhaps we are a trifle more superstitious than some other counties, -but it must be borne in mind that a wealth of folklore adds great -respectability to a genealogy which dates back to times so far remote, -that the rites and ceremonies of the religion from which it sprang must -now be sought for in the myth-history of other lands. - -In connexion with Royal Oak Day took place the locking out of the -schoolmaster by the scholars, loudly singing, whilst they held the -fortress— - - It’s Royal Oak daay, - T’ twenty-nahnth o’ Maay, - An’ if ya deean’t gi’e uz hollida - Wa’ll all run awaay. - -The above was sung, to the entire satisfaction of the lads, a couple of -years ago at Great Ayton. On this day it is customary for every one to -display a twig of oak; should any one be so remiss as to walk abroad -without sporting an oak-leaf or two, it is quite probable some urchin -may give the delinquent a sharp reminder by switching him over the -hand with a nettle. And woe betide the lad who is so foolhardy as to -venture forth oakless, for in addition to being stung with nettles, he -may have to submit to being rubbed over with chalk until he looks very -like a miller. It may be mentioned that Royal Oak Day is often called -Chalky-back Day. - -There are several charms and ceremonies peculiar to Midsummer Eve, the -careful observance of which enables a maiden to learn something of -what fate may have in store for her. Does she doubt the constancy of -her lover, she can satisfy herself once for all, no matter what other -folk may say, and in spite of anything she may have seen or imagined -herself, by observing the following rite. Certainly the carrying out of -the ceremony is a wee bit troublesome, but of what account is trouble -when such vital points are at issue as the unmasking of perfidy or the -establishment of truth and love? To perform the rite the maiden must -proceed as follows:—Pull three hairs from the tail of a perfectly -black cat, also three from a red cow; gather three leaves of the deadly -nightshade, and, having killed a white pigeon, smear each leaf with -blood from its heart. Now make three flat parcels, each containing a -cat’s hair, a cow’s hair, and a leaf. Next stew the pigeon, saving the -gravy. Now make a savoury dish, adding thereto the gravy. The suspected -one must be asked to supper on Midsummer Eve, the damsel being careful -to place under the tablecloth the three parcels, in such manner that -one will lie under his plate, one under the dish containing the gravy, -and the third under her own plate. During supper, should her lover -find the least fault with any person or thing, he is faithless. If the -maiden is very deeply in love, I should advise her to do most of the -talking; let it be only a one-course supper, and hurry through with it. -The above charm is rarely resorted to now; the several difficulties -which have to be overcome before it can be successfully carried out, -have almost laid it on one side. But I well remember its being tried -years ago by one of our servants, and I have been informed that it -was resorted to, inside of the last five years, at a farm-house near -Swainby. - -Here is another one for the same eve, which is much more widely known, -and believed in yet by many. Three maids, unseen by and unknown to any -other but themselves, must each gather a sprig of rosemary, and between -the hours of eleven and twelve p.m. retire to an upper chamber, lock -the door, and from the moment the key is turned not a word must be -spoken. Near one end of the room a basin half full of water must be -placed, in which each maiden has dropped a handful of red-rose leaves; -the three sprigs of rosemary must now be laid on the rose leaves; next, -fix a line across the room, over which each must throw—not fasten -in any way—a chemise of her own make, but which she has never worn. -Having thus arranged matters, they must seat themselves as far from -the basin as possible, when they will be shortly rewarded, for a few -moments after twelve o’clock the husband of each will appear. There can -be no doubt about this, because each apparition will seize a sprig of -rosemary and sprinkle the chemise of the girl he loves. Nothing could -be more convincing than this; now, could there be? - -If not yet fully satisfied, they may make another attempt on the eve of -St. Mary Magdalene. For this they will have to prepare the following -decoction:—Take a wineglassful each of rum, gin, and red wine, a -teaspoonful of honey, treacle, and sugar, and the same of vinegar, -lemon-juice, and sour oranges; these must be mixed together in some -utensil purchased that day, and for which each must pay an equal share. -When mixing the ingredients, the following rule must be observed: the -first maiden must pour in the spirits and wine, the second the sweets, -and the third the sours; this must be done at the hour of midnight. -Let each now take a sprig of rosemary, dip it in the liquor, and then -carefully stitch the same securely to the bosom of her nightdress; -bear in mind you are an old maid for ever if you and your sprig part -company during the night. Each in turn must now drink a tablespoonful -of the mixture, until every drop is consumed, then jump into bed, all -three together, and on falling asleep, each maiden will have a dream, -the meaning of which cannot be misunderstood. This seems to be quite -certain, and there is another thing equally assured—one and all will -awake with such a splitting headache in the morning, that they will -forswear improvised cold punch for ever afterwards. - -It is not within the scope of this work to take note of purely local -customs, deeply interesting though they be. Therefore the Vardy dinner -at Helmsley, the procession of the Lord Mayor and Lady Mayoress of York -at Kilburn, the race up the hill at Askrigg, or the May-pole dances at -several other places, and the like, must be passed over. - -The mell supper, though lacking much of its pristine glory, is still -with us. Mr. Robinson of Carthorpe, and many others in the riding, -still keep to the good old ways. The mell supper, i.e. a supper and -a dance after the ingathering of the harvest, is exceedingly common, -but with its older observances, or at least as many of them as are -remembered, is only adhered to here and there. Still, at the present -day, something of the old-time doings are to be met with. The last -sheaf at Carthorpe, as in Jutland, is called the ’widow,’ and the last -load is always led triumphantly home with songs of joy. - -In many places it is common for the last few sheaves to be bound -together, these being decorated with ribbons and handkerchiefs—the -women racing for the ribbons, and the men contending for the -handkerchiefs. This, of course, is a survival of the time when the -sheaves themselves were run for; and in the days when an additional -bushel of grain was a thing greatly to be desired, the prize would -be not a little coveted. Here and there the mell doll is still made; -certainly it is not now bedecked with all the gaudy trappings it was -adorned with in days of yore, but often some skilful hand will plait -the straw into fantastical shapes, exhibiting considerable artistic -taste and skill. When completed, whether it be in the form of a doll[6] -or that of some other device, it still goes by the name of ’t’ mell -doll,’ and is placed in the centre of the barn, round which, by-and-by, -the guests will trip on the light fantastic toe. - -One characteristic of the mell supper, so far as I know, is now a thing -of the past, i.e. the guisers. These were a kind of sword-dancers, who -twenty years ago generally came as unbidden guests after the dancing -had commenced; as a rule they were accorded a hearty welcome, as they -added greatly to the merriment of the evening’s revel, for as the cake -and ale went round, the excitement increased, songs and shouting became -general, and the dancing something after the nature of a stampede, till -at last the uproar was general. It is at such times when age forgets -its years, and the young let slip the tether of their youthful spirits, -and romp—aye, romp; for the ale is good, the lasses are bonny, ‘slim o’ -waist and leet o’ foot.’ It is Yorkshire, all Yorkshire. - -The fifth of November, with its bonfires and Guy Fawkes, is as -religiously observed in the riding as in any other part of the country. -Over a wide area it is the festive occasion on which every good wife -bakes a store of parkin, its general form being that of a flat cake of -gingerbread, the recipe varying according to the means of the house. - -In the days when there were no county police, if not wise enough to -securely lock up your yard broom, of a certainty it would be stolen; -and if ever you did see it again, it would be on the evening of the -fifth, soaked with tar, in the hands of some fellow rushing like a mad -thing along the street with your property blazing in front of him. -I have known of scores of brooms which were stolen—aye, and stolen -them myself—but I do not recollect an instance of the thief being -prosecuted. No, if you did not secure your broom, it went, and that was -very much the end of it. There was more fun running with a stolen besom -than a bought one. - -Quite an interesting collection of doggerel verses might be given, -which the lads in various parts sing when dragging their load of -sticks and thorns to the site of the bonfire. I give one, which an old -inhabitant of Great Ayton tells me was sung when his grandfather was a -boy. - - Au’d Grimey sits upon yon hill - Ez black ez onny au’d craw; - He’s gitten on his lang grey coat - Wi’ buttons doon afoor-oor-oor, - Wi’ buttons doon afoor-oor-oor, - Wi’ buttons doon afoor-oor-oor, - He’s gitten on his lang grey coat - Wi’ buttons doon afoor. - -Within a week, the young carol-singers will be on your doorstep night -after night, reminding you that Christmas is drawing nigh. - -A very old custom, but which has now been pretty nigh stamped out by -the county policeman, is that of ‘Riding the Stang.’ It is not dead -yet, though; I witnessed the stang being ridden as recently as 1891 in -Guisborough, and in many of the villages in Wensleydale it is to this -day resorted to when considered needful. - -The stang is held in wholesome dread by a certain class of evil-doers. -Wife-beaters and immoral characters chiefly had and have the benefit -of the stang[7]. Whatever their discovered sin might be, was fully set -forth in the stang doggerel. One or two points have to be, or at least -are, most carefully observed: (1) The real name of the culprit must not -be mentioned. (2) The stang must be ridden in three separate parishes -each night; and in many places, to make the proceedings quite legal, it -was considered a _sine qua non_ that the stang-master must knock at the -door of the man or woman they were holding up to ridicule, and ask for -a pocket-piece, i.e. fourpence. - -The whole proceeding was carried out as follows:—An effigy made of -straw and old clothes, representing the culprit, was bound to a pole[8] -and set in an upright position in the centre of either a handcart or a -small pony cart, in which was seated the stang-master; and following -behind were gathered all the ragamuffins of the village, armed with -pan lids, tin cans, tin whistles, or anything which could be made to -produce a discordant sound. Being ready, the cart was drawn in front -of the culprit’s house, and after a fearful hubbub, the stang-master -cried out, in a sing-song voice,— - - Ah tinkle, Ah tinkle, Ah tinkle tang, - It’s nut foor your part ner mah part - ‘At Ah rahd the stang, - Bud foor yan Bill Switch whau his weyfe did bang, - Ah tinkle, Ah tinkle, Ah tinkle tang. - He banged her, he banged her, he banged her indeed, - He banged her, he banged her, afoor sha steead need; - Upstairs aback o’ t’ bed - He sairly brayed her whahl sha bled, - Oot o’ t’ hoos on ti t’ green, - Sikan a seet ez nivver war seen, - Ez neean c’u’d think, ez neean c’u’d dream. - Sae Ah gat ma a few cumarades - Ti traal ma aboot; - Sae it’s hip hip hurrah, lads, - Set up a gert shoot, - An’ blaw all yer whistles, - Screeam, rattle, an’ bang - All ’at ivver ya’ve gitten, - Foor Ah ride the stang. - -Then, for a few moments, there arose a tumult of sound, to which the -wildest ravings of bedlam would seem insignificant. - -This performance lasts three nights, and on the third the effigy is -burnt in front of the culprit’s house. - -Another very old custom, which is now rarely seen, is that of bottle -breaking. When a house was ready for the thatch, in later days the -tiles, a bottle was suspended by a ribbon from the ridge beam. Stones -were then shied at it, and the one who was lucky enough to smash the -bottle claimed the ribbon. If in days past this custom had anything of -an occult nature attached to it, it has long ago been forgotten. In its -last days it degenerated into what was considered to be a valid excuse -for spending the rest of the day in the village pub. _O tempora, O -mores!_ - -The daily life of the Guisboreans does not seem to have altered much -from the time of Edward VI to the end of last century. In a letter -among the Cottonian MSS., the writer, addressing Sir Thomas Chaloner, -says, ‘The people bread here (Guisborough) live very longe, if they -be a while absent they growe sicklye; they are altogether given -to pleasure, scarce any good husband amongst them; Day and Nighte -feastinge, making Matches for Horse Races, Dog runninge, or runninge -on Foote,’ &c. The above was written about 1550, and we find in 1784 -that things were still pretty lively, as the contents of the small -hand-bill[9] (see next page) fully testify. The contents of another, -setting forth the varied attractions of ‘Staithes Feast,’ are also -characteristic of the time. - - Gisbrough Races. - - Saturday, August 14, 1784. - - A MATCH between SIR WILLIAM FOULIS’S Ass Colt, Turkey Nab, and Mr. - CHALONER’S Ass Colt, Sturdy; Catch-weights, 1l. 1s. play or pay, the - last Comer-in to Win. Change of Jockeys, crossing, jostling, and - kicking. - - A PURSE of SILVER to be run for by Men in Sacks. Crossing and jostling. - - LADIES’ PLATE. - - A SHIFT to be run for by Ladies. No crossing-and-jostling. No Lady to - enter who has won more than one Shift. A Pair of Cotton Stockings for - the second Lady; and a Pair of Garters for the third. Free for all - Weights and Ages. - - ⁂ After the Races, A Soap-tail’d PIG will be turn’d out. Whoever - throws him over his Shoulder by the Tail is to have him for his own - Property. - - ††† Smoaking, Cudgel-††playing, and other Entertainments. - - JOHN HALE, Steward. - - ‡‡ An Ordinary at the Cock at Gisbrough at Half past Two o‘Clock. The - Race to begin at Five o‘Clock. - - * * * * * - - STAITHES FEAST. - - —WILL BE HELDE ON— - - TUESDAY, JUNE 20, 1797. - - When the prizes AS ADVERTIZED BELOW will be offered to ALL those - skilled in such matters, as well as DIVERS others not herin stated. - - TO WIT. - - ⁂ A fish skin purse contayninge SILVER will be run or rolled for in - sacks a man and a boy in each sack. 25 Y^{RDS.} ERIC STAUMER Esq. will - adjudge. - - ††† A 50 Y^{RDS.} race. To be run for, A HOOD and CLOAK, each, for - maidens runninge in pairs, the right legge of the one to be fast bound - below the knee and at the ancle, to y^e left legge of the other[10]. - T. METCALFE WILL BIND Y^E LEGGES AND ADJUDGE. - - ⁂ A CROWN piece for A MAN and WIFE race, y^e wife to be hugged either - on the backe, in arms, or by any other device, so as she be lifted - clean from y^e ground, HUSBANDS with light wives to be put backe. No - WHEELBARROWS allowed. M^{R.} MAT PETCH WILL ADJUDGE. - - The choyce of a sark or petticote offered to the best performance of - skille in a SKEP and POLE tryal[11]. Only for married women. One - clean turn to be mayde. THOS. HILTUNE Esq. will adjudge. - - ††† A CŌBLE RACE for 1.l. 1.s. - - ⁂ A LYKE SUM will be gyven to the owners of the best kept CŌBLE. To be - equally divided. W. Hymers Esq. WILL adjudge. - - ††† 2 new CROWN pieces will be gyven to y^e maid under 18 yeares who - shalle fyrst cleanly bayte 100 hooks. M^{R.} W. PICKLES will adjudge. - - ⁂ LYKEWISE, Genning throw a BARFAN, SMOAKING, and other pastimes for - y^e entertainment of all commers will in nowise be found lacking. - - ALL friends and nighbours are dilligently invited. - - This was wrote by I. STOREY, schoolmaster. - -N.B. This hand-bill was not printed, but most carefully and neatly -written. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - CUSTOMS OF COURTSHIP, MARRIAGE, BIRTH, AND DEATH - - -_Superstition._ - -The old customs and superstitions connected with marriage festivities -are perhaps more closely observed here and there in the North Riding -than in any other part of Yorkshire. In some parts of Cleveland, I -doubt if the bride and bridegroom would consider themselves properly -wedded if there were no race for a ribbon or handkerchief. And -certainly it would be a most unlucky omen, should any one but the -bride cut the first piece from the bride’s cake. But I anticipate—let -us commence at the beginning. Very rarely, I imagine, is it that an -orthodox proposal is ever made by a Yorkshire lad to the lass of his -choice. No, they just ’keep cump’ny t’ ane wi’ t’ t’other.’ ‘Keeping -company’ is the Yorkshire idiom for courting; and during that happy -time, in days past, were a young fellow ever caught kissing his -lady-love whilst a roof was over their heads (i.e. in any one’s -house), he was liable—if he did not instantly throw on the table -kiss-money—to be ‘pitchered[12]’ on the spot, i.e. either have a hole -burnt through his coat or his buttons cut off. This violent attack -on the person of arson and robbery was usually effected by a bevy of -damsels. - -In time, if all went well, the twain decided to become one; to this -end the ’spurrings’ were put in, i.e. the banns were published. This -having been accomplished, the couple were said to be ’hanging in the -bell-ropes’—no maiden would ever think of attending church during the -time she was hanging in the bell-ropes, or to use another expression, -‘whilst she was suffering from a broken leg after having tumm’l’d ower -t’ bauk.’ - -The wedding day having arrived, the happy couple, accompanied by their -friends, either proceed two and two, or hire a cab. - -Of course the bride is properly garnished for the occasion, and very -nice and blushy she looks—that goes without saying. But whatever her -toilet may be, one thing is certain—not a speck of blue or green -will be found anywhere about her, both colours being considered very -unlucky; neither will the wedding take place on a Friday. - - Deean’t o’ Friday buy yer ring, - O’ Friday deean’t put t’ spurrings in, - Deean’t wed o’ Friday. Think on o’ this, - Nowther blue ner green mun match her dhriss. - -If during the ceremony the sun is obscured for a short time, and then -bursts forth shining on the couple, happy will such a bride be. For - - Blessed is t’ bride ’at t’ sun shines on, - An’ blessed is t’ deead ’at t’ rain rains on. - -Years ago, it was the custom, in many parts of Cleveland, for the -bride and bridegroom to leap over a form on leaving the church -porch. On this feat being accomplished, a gun was fired, this often -being charged with feathers. At Guisborough the firing of guns was -continued throughout the whole route. And in many parts of Cleveland, -meeting the bridal procession with hot pots was common; these were -bowls filled with a kind of steaming punch, and as the bridal party -were expected to drink from every hot pot, one can well imagine and -understand the revelry which so often took place, especially when the -hot pots were numerous. Afterwards, these pots were carried from door -to door, a plate covered with a saucer being also presented; a gift -of money was slipped under the saucer, given to enable the hot pot to -be replenished. In the Staithes district, if a guest stepped in any -kind of filth on his or her way to the house, on no account would it -be wiped off, it being considered very unlucky to do so. I believe, at -that time, sanded floors and not carpets were the rule. - -On passing through the church gates, the bridegroom usually threw a -handful of coppers amongst the crowd. A man now headed the procession, -carrying under his arm a young cockerel, which he made continually to -‘skrike oot’; this could only be silenced by the payment of bride’s -money. On arriving at the bride’s home, she was met on the doorstep, -and presented with a small cake on a plate. A little of this she would -eat, throwing the remainder over her head, typical of the hope that -they might always have plenty and something to spare. She then handed -the plate to her husband; this he threw over his head, their future -happiness depending upon its being broken[13]. - -The race for the bride’s garter was a common custom in former times, -its possession being held in high esteem, and valued as a potent love -charm. - -Now, however, the custom has almost fallen into disuse, though within -the last five years the ceremony was fully carried out. At one time it -was not only a recognized custom, but in most cases special preparation -was made for its due observance, the maidens spending no little time -and skill in the working of their bridal garters. - -Immediately after the plate had been broken, the bride’s attempt to -cross the threshold was hindered by the kneeling figure of the winner -of the race, claiming the privilege of removing the prize. The bride -then raised her skirt whilst he removed the valued trophy[14]. - -As it was the correct thing in those good old days for ladies to -raise the skirt quite as high when dancing, and as elaborately worked -stockings were worn to be looked at, nothing was thought of lifting the -skirt, and nothing would in these days if some lady of title revived -the custom. From an old rhyme, I give the following lines:— - - T’ BRAHDAL BANDS. - - Blushing, theer oor Peggy sits - Stitching, fahn stitching, - Luv knots roond her brahdal bands, - Witching, bewitching. - - T’ brahd’s maids all mun deea a stitch, - Stitching, fahn stitching, - An’ tha mun binnd it roond her leg[15], - Witching, bewitching. - - Bud sum bauf[16] swain ’at’s soond o’ puff[17], - Stitching, fahn stitching, - ‘Ll claim his reet ti tak’ it off, - Witching, bewitching. - - An’ he aroond his awn luv’s leg, - Stitching, fahn stitching, - ‘Ll lap it roond ti binnd his luv, - Witching, bewitching. - - Whahl sha sweet maid’ll wear his troth, - Stitching, fahn stitching, - Mahnding each tahm sha taks it off, - Witching, bewitching. - - That daay when sha will ’a’e ti wear, - Stitching, fahn stitching, - Nut yan, bud tweea, a brahdal pair, - Witching, bewitching. - - Oh, happy day! when sha s’all stitch, - Stitching, fahn stitching, - Her brahdal bands, the wearing which - Mak maids bewitching. - -It may be remembered that knights often bound the garter of their -lady-love about their sword-hilts. - -The following lines evidently were written when the bridal garter was -held in greater favour than the ribbon:— - - - SONG. - - DRINK TO THE BRIDAL GARTER. - - - Nance is wed ti morn at morn, - High doon a derry O, - Monny a lad ’s this daay ’s forlorn, - High doon a derry O; - Bud cheer up, lads, yer glasses fill, - Fer ivvery Jack ther is a Jill. - Sup off, my bucks, an’ divn’t spill, - An’ maay Ah win her garter O. - - Neea prude is Nance; tha saay sha’s maad, - High doon a derry O, - Her brahdal bands ov gowden braad, - High doon a derry O. - Noo fer a ribbon Ah weean’t run, - It gi’es neea luck, an’ stops wer fun, - Sike nimmy nammy waays ’ez sum; - Cum drink ti t’ brahdal garter O. - - Here ’s health an’ luck ti t’ brahd ’at darr, - High doon a derry O, - Her brahdal bands baith stitch an’ wear, - High doon a derry O; - Ti them ’at ho’ds a ribbon up - Neean on uz here’ll draan a cup, - Sike healths wa ’evn’t tahm ti sup, - Ov slipshod, undarned stockings O. - - T’ brahd ’at darn’t her skets pull up, - High doon a derry O, - Maist leykly is a mucky slut, - High doon a derry O. - Yan best can tell a lass’s waays - Byv what sha wears, ’an what sha saays; - A ribbon gi’en o’ wedding days - Screens mucky undarned stockings O. - - Maay ivvery bonny blushing brahd, - High doon a derry O, - ‘Ev nowther muck ner hoals ti hide, - High doon a derry O, - An’ maay sha on her brahdal daay - Pull up her skets, an’ smiling saay, - ‘Mah garter’s thahn, tak it, Ah praay, - An’ gi’e ’t ti thi true lovey O.’ - - Afoor wa pairt fill up each glass, - High doon a derry O, - Let each yan drink tiv his awn lass, - High doon a derry O, - Ti Bessy, Sally, Sue, an’ Peg, - Ti Martha, Mary, Maud, an’ Meg; - An’ here’s ti ivvery shap’ly leg - Roond which a brahdal band diz go. - -Originally the ceremony of removing the bridal garter was, as has been -said, carried out in a perfectly decorous manner; in time, however, it -degenerated into actually stealing the garter by force. This unseemly -proceeding possibly arose from the strong opposition and resentment -which was felt, and for long demonstrated, whenever the ribbon -supplanted the garter. - -Why, as recently as 1820, Lady —— [18], a great stickler after old -customs, on stepping from her bridal coach, inquired who had won the -race. ‘Ah did, my lady,’ answered one of the stable lads. Ascending the -steps, her ladyship stepped half over the threshold, calling out to -the lad, ‘Come, Tom, and claim your prize,’ adding, as she raised her -silken gown, ‘I intend to be properly married and have the luck I am -entitled to.’ Then turning to the young fellow, smiling, she added, -‘Take it off, Tom, and give it to your sweetheart, and may it bring -luck to both of you.’ - -In Great Ayton the ribbon seems to have supplanted the garter in -the early part of this century. In fact it is only the old folks -who remember, and can tell you anything concerning the gay and -festive doings of those days. But the older custom held its own -for long afterwards, and that, too, within a very few miles. But -intercommunication between villages has never been a strong feature. -Even to-day there is a species of rivalry existing between Stokesley -and Great Ayton people, but this is common to all adjacent villages. - -It only adds one more proof in support of what has already been said, -that the customs, superstitions, and dialect of any given locality, or -even that of a whole dale, cannot, and must not, be taken as being that -of the whole of the North Riding, much less of Yorkshire. - -A case in point may here be mentioned. In days past it was usual -in Great Ayton to discharge firearms over the bridal party as they -processed both _to and from the church_. This, however, was by no -means the custom throughout Cleveland[19]. Neither was the firing of -the stithy, which I am told was never omitted; i.e. a charge of powder -poured into a hole in the anvil, upon which a heavy weight was laid; -this, when fired, went off with the report of a cannon. In many places -the latter was only resorted to when either objectionable people were -united or in the case of a forced marriage. In Great Ayton it was done -in honour of the occasion. - -Much variation exists as to the exact time when the ribbon is to be run -for. In some places it is the custom for the racers to stand at the -church door, and start off on a signal being given that the ring has -been slipped on the bride’s finger. In other localities the race takes -place the moment the bride and bridegroom leave the church porch, the -one arriving first at the bride’s door being the winner. - -In other localities it does not take place until after the wedding -feast, and again, often not until evening. - -In many places it is customary for the bride to stand as the winning -post, holding the ribbon in her hand, the winner not only claiming the -prize, but a kiss also. It may be mentioned here that the best man -generally claims the first kiss at the conclusion of the ceremony. At -Great Ayton and many other places sixty years ago, before the bride -left the altar steps the sexton removed her shoe, which was ransomed -by the bridegroom. It was, and is still, considered most lucky to rub -shoulders with the bridegroom. And until somewhat recently the parson -officiating was always expected to kiss the bride. Before railways -were so general, and when, as often happened, the honeymoon had to be -spent amongst friends within driving distance, or at the bride’s home, -‘throwing the stocking’ at the bride and bridegroom after they had -retired to rest was never omitted. - -It is a bad omen should the bridal party meet a coffin, or should a -cripple cross their path. Had they to pass over a stream, it was usual -for both to throw something over their shoulder into the stream, -saying as they did so, ‘Bad luck cleave to you,’ being very careful -not to set eyes on the object again. On an occasion of this kind, -should the man wish to be master in his own house, he had better see -that he cross the centre of the bridge a little in advance of his -bride, or that lady will gain an advantage she will be careful not -to undervalue—the husband will have to do the wife’s bidding. It is -also considered unlucky to remove the wedding ring before the birth -of the first child. Should a bride unfortunately do so, be sure it is -the husband who replaces it; on no account must she let another man -do so, unless she wishes speedily to become a widow. Before the bride -and bridegroom left for their own home, it was common for a kettleful -of boiling water to be poured on the front step, upon which the bride -stepped, being careful to wet both her shoes. The due observance of -this custom ensured another happy marriage being arranged amongst the -company there assembled. - -When the time arrives for the happy couple to take their departure, -either for their own home or the honeymoon, great care must be observed -that the husband steps over the threshold in front of his bride, -otherwise she will take the lead in all things through life. It would -be a great advantage to a lot of men if the wife did step a little in -advance. They must also be very careful not to make their exit with the -back and front door open at the same time; and on entering their new -home, a man must receive them, never a woman, neither must they enter -an empty house, as it would result in a lack of friends. The belief -in open doors, &c., applies to all occasions when leaving or returning -home after having spent the night under a strange roof. As the bride -leaves the paternal roof, some swain will endeavour to seize her foot. -This doubtless is a surviving relic of the time when it was deemed a -post of honour to assist the bride into the saddle. It ensures little -separation through life if the happy pair, on rising from their bridal -couch, take each other by the hand, and slip out of bed, so that their -feet touch the floor together; then, still keeping hold of hands, they -must cross the room and step outside, as equally as possible. - -Whilst the immediate friends enjoyed themselves as guests at the -bride’s house, many of their well-wishers adjourned to the nearest -hostel and drank their healths with many a glass and catch-song. - -One, a kind of catch-verse, was very common a few years ago. Each time -it was sung the glasses were drained, some one else being called upon -to repeat the song. This had to be done at once, and in the reverse way -to the former vocalist, i.e. if the last singer toasted the bridegroom, -the next must commence with the bride; did he make a mistake, he had to -pay for glasses round. - - _The Verse._ - - The brahdgroom’s health we all will sing, - In spite of Turk or Spanish king, - The brahd’s good health we will not pass, - But put them both into one glass. - See, see, see that he drink it all, - See, see, see that he let none fall, - For if he do, he shall drink two, - And so shall the rest of the company do. - -Another catch-rhyme must have resulted in innumerable glasses having to -be paid for each time it was sung. It was quite an action song, each -taking a line in turn, every glass being raised at the commencement of -each line, and then replaced, forming a ring round the bride’s garter, -which lay in the centre of the table, or a borrowed one doing duty for -the time. As each glass had to be lifted on the word DRINK, and tapped -against that of its right and left hand neighbour at CHINK, then set -on the table again without spilling, some one would have to pay for -glasses round. The verse ran:— - - Wa lift each glass ti t’ brahdgroom’s health, - DRINK, DRINK, DRINK. - T’ yan ’at slaps pays fer t’ next roond, - CHINK, CHINK, CHINK. - An’ here’s ti t’ brahd, good luck ti t’ lass, - Drink, Drink, Drink. - Wa thruff her band noo pass each glass[20], - Wink, Wink, Wink. - Wer liquor will all t’ better seeam, - Chink, Chink, Chink, - When wa call ti mahnd wheer it hez been, - Drink, Drink, Drink. - Bud him ’at trimm’ls, smiles, or slaps (spills), - Chink, Chink, Chink, - Pays fer wer glasses gahin ti t’ taps, - Drink, Drink, Drink. - -Quite a collection of these catch-songs might be made; they are all -quaint, and if they point to days when things were a trifle different, -we must bear in mind that a hundred years hence we shall be pretty -severely criticized. - - - _Birth._ - -The future of a child greatly depends upon which day it is born. - - A Munday’s bairn will grow up fair, - A Tuesday’s yan i’ grace thruff prayer, - A Wednesday’s bairn ’ez monny a paain, - A Tho’sday’s bairn weean’t bahd at heeam. - A Friday’s bairn is good an’ sweet, - A Settherday’s warks frea morn ti neet, - Bud a Sunday’s bairn thruff leyfe is blist - An’ seear i’ t’ end wi’ t’ Saints ti rist. - -From the day of its birth to that of its baptism, pepper cake, cheese -and wine, or some other cordial, are offered to all those who cross the -threshold. No one would think of refusing to ’tak a bite an’ sup,’ to -wish the little stranger all the happiness and good luck possible. In -many places, the doctor cuts the cake and cheese immediately after the -happy event is over, giving a piece to every one present; neither cake -nor cheese must have been previously cut into, and what is cut must be -divided into just so many pieces as there are friends present, neither -more nor less. Should it unfortunately happen the pieces exceed in -number that of the guests, it would portend that troubles in this life -will be too many to contend against; but should there be not enough -pieces to go all round, then the child in after years will lack many of -those comforts, the possession of which make life a blessing. - -When possible, a new arrival, before being laid by its mother’s side, -or even touched by her, is placed in the arms of a maiden. To a boy, -this early contact, with our highest ideal of earthly purity, gives -to him a nobleness of character which in after years will help the -world to be better, whilst in the case of a girl she will grow up to be -modest and pure in all things. The idea is pretty. - -In Cleveland, and some of the dales westward, the notion still prevails -that a child should always go up in the world before it goes down; so -when it happens that a child is born in the topmost story, in which -case it is impossible to carry it into a higher room, the nurse will -stand upon the bed with the child in her arms, holding it above the -mother, that being a higher position than it held at its birth. After -this ceremony it may be safely taken to the lower regions. Were this -rite omitted, and the child allowed to descend before it had gone up, -failure in life would most likely be the lot of such a one—the tendency -of such always being downhill. These little ceremonies, anyway, point a -splendid moral. One cannot begin to be good and diligent too early in -life. - -When a child is born with a mask or caul over its head, good luck -will follow it all the days of its life, always provided the caul is -properly preserved. There is some rite in the preservation of such, -the details of which I have not been able to obtain. Speaking to one -old dame, she said to me that she did not rightly know what they did -in such cases, none of her children having been fortunate enough to -be so distinguished at their birth. This much, however, she did know, -that some just dried such a covering by laying it between two layers -of muslin, but—and to give her own words—‘Ther’s other some ’at ’ev a -straange carrying on wi’ sike leyke; they lap it roond t’ Bahble an’ -deea summat, bud Ah deean’t knaw what, bud Ah can git ti knaw foor -ya.’ That cannot be now; she has crossed the borderland. That such -cauls or masks were held in high esteem at one time, is proved by the -high prices paid for them, not because they had belonged to people of -note or high degree, but because they possessed the power to ward off -many evils which might assail the possessor. Sailors even to-day set -great store by them: they act as a charm, saving the possessor from -drowning in case of a wreck. These veils were much prized by witches, -and great was the evil they could work should such ever come into their -possession, hence the necessity of using all precautions against their -loss. - -An old body, Ann Caygill by name—I think she was a native of -Bedale—told me the following story. She was seventy-five years of age, -and the event took place some twenty years before she was born, but -as the individual affected told the story to Ann herself, I have it -pretty much from its original source. Jane Herd at her birth had a mask -covering both head and face, which, as quite natural in those days, her -mother carefully preserved. It turned out to be one of extraordinary -power. If Jane laid it on the Bible and wished to see any one, they -were bound to put in an appearance. And many other wonders she could -work with her caul. Jane, it seems, was a pious girl, and never used -it for an evil purpose, though, said my informant, she might have done -had she been so minded. One day when Jane was using her mask for some -rightful purpose, a puff of wind blew it through the open window. -Jane of course rushed into the street to recover her treasure, but it -was gone, and could not be found; being of such an exceedingly light -nature, the wind had carried it no one knew whither. - -And from that day Jane’s life became a burden. Her lover grew cold—the -wedding day had been arranged, but he declined to carry out his -promise—a nasty lump came on her neck, and a fearful pain and swelling -attacked her right knee, which made her walk very lame, and indeed -she became a perfect wreck. At last things got into such a parlous -state with her, that people began to suspect some evil-minded person -had found her mask, and was working her evil with it. It was then -remembered, when Jane had rushed into the street to recover her lost -treasure, that the only person visible at the time was one Molly -Cass[21], a witch of considerable local repute in those days. But Molly -at the time had been so far distant from Jane’s cottage, that she was -not even questioned. In the end, Jane had resort to the wise man, or -rather men, of that day—Master Sadler and Thomas Spence[22], both of -Bedale. These two worthies, after many questions, made a sign round -the lump as well as round her knee, telling Jane to collect certain -things—what these were could not be called to mind—and bring them -next day near midnight. These several things having been collected -and duly delivered to the charmers, were mixed together, with other -ingredients, and the whole boiled on a wickenwood fire, and stirred -by Jane with a wickenwood stick; near the end of this boiling, a great -smoke arose from the pan, which Jane was told to inhale. She did so, -but it nearly choked her, still she kept on swallowing mouthful after -mouthful, until she had done so nine times; she was then told to cease -stirring, but to retain the stick in one hand, the other being laid -on the Bible. She had then to repeat the following question: ‘Has —— ’ -(here mentioning the name of anyone she suspected) ‘gotten mah caul?’ -Then Master Sadler, after a moment’s pause, said, ‘No, she is free.’ -Master Spence then joined in with ‘By the power of the Holy Writ and -the charm of Hagothet and Arcon[23], mention the name of some other -person thou doubtest.’ This formula was gone through until the name of -Molly Cass was mentioned. Even as the witch’s name was uttered, the -pan boiled over, filling the room with such a fearful stench, that all -three had to hurry into the yard. So quickly was this accomplished, -that they surprised the old witch scrambling off a settle, upon which -she had been standing to enable her to peep through a small hole in the -shutters. She was instantly seized and thrust into the room, and kept -there until so nearly suffocated, that she confessed she had the caul -on her person, and promised then and there to deliver it up. On being -brought out of the room more dead than alive, she further confessed -that she had been forced to run all the way from Leeming—the current -belief, however, was that she had come astride of a besom—the moment -they had put the pan on the wickenwood fire. She begged to be forgiven, -but as a punishment she was locked up in a stable, a wicken peg having -been driven into the door to prevent her from escaping; and next day, -for the diversion of the Bedale inhabitants, she was hurried to the -mill dam and duly ducked nine times. - - - ‘A FRAGMENT,’ - - ON THE WITCH MOLLY CASS. - - * * * * * - - Foor seear sha war a queer au’d lass, - Ez meean ez muck, ez bou’d ez brass; - Ah meean t’ au’d witch, au’d Molly Cass, - ‘At lived nigh t’ mill at Leeming. - Noo fooak will clack, Ah’ve heeard ’em saay - At t’ dark o’ neet, when pass’t that waay, - Tha fan’ it ommaist leet ez daay, - Sike leets war awlus gleaming; - An’ sum held ti ’t ’at mair ’an yance - Wiv her feet fra t’ grund they’d seean her prance, - Loup hoos heigh up, wi’ t’ Divil dance. - - * * * * * - -The above would, I believe, be written about the year 1810 by one who -wrote under the signature of R. H.[24] At that time Molly must have -been dead some twenty years, but her deeds would still be remembered by -many. Mr. W. Hird, from whom I had the above fragment, told me he used -to know the whole piece, which was of considerable length. - -But to return to recent times, still keeping to Bedale. I remember a -shopkeeper’s wife saying to me, ‘That girl has been lucky, but then -she had a veil on when she was born, so one need not wonder.’ - -The case is a simple one, I know, but a straw shows which way the wind -blows, and here was the belief still flourishing in the potency of -the caul. This happened about twenty years ago. One has no need to go -that far back; so recently as four years ago, a man, a native of Great -Ayton, said to me, pointing to a girl, ‘Ah’ve putten that lass’s muther -intiv a straange stew. Ah’ve stown’ (stolen) t’ lass’s mask, an’ her -muther’s ommaist to’n’d t’ hoos upsahd doon latin’ on ’t, bud Ah s’all -let her ’ev ’t back agaan; Ah wadn’t keep ’t foor nowt;’ and then he -added, ‘An’ Ah wadn’t wark neeabody onny ill wi’ ‘t.’ Here again you -have the old belief showing itself as strongly as in days past. - -But to return to the baby. The baby’s nails must not be cut during -infancy; should they grow inconveniently long, they may be bitten -off by the mother, for if they were cut, the child would grow up -light-fingered, i.e. a thief. When the child has celebrated its first -birthday, they may be properly cut; but here again certain days must be -avoided—Fridays and Sundays are considered to be very unlucky. It is a -common saying— - - Better t’ baan ’ed ne’er been born, - ‘An cut its naals on a Sunday morn. - -There is no virtue attached to the pieces of the nails when cut, but -the first pieces bitten off should be carefully preserved, until -there is a scrap from every nail on both hands; these must be wrapped -together and buried under an ash-tree, and the child, if not freed -from the diseases incident to the young, will only have them in a -slight degree. - -The old rhyme says— - - Cut ’em o’ Munday, cut ’em foor health; - Cut ’em o’ Tuesday, cut ’em foor wealth; - Cut ’em o’ Wednesday, cut ’em foor news; - Cut ’em o’ Thorsday, ya cut foor new shoes; - Cut ’em o’ Friday, ya cut ’em foor sorrow; - Cut ’em o’ Seterday, t’ bairn nivver need borrow; - Cut ’em o’ Sunday, ’t ’ed better be deead, - Foor ill-luck an’ evil ’ll lig on its heead. - -Again:— - - Sunday clipt, Sunday shorn, - Better t’ bairn ’ed nivver been born. - -Before the baby is nine days old it is wise to decide upon its name, -and once having done this, _so let it be_. If either parent should -happen to say, ‘We will call it So-and-so,’ do not alter after having -so declared, for if so the child will grow up a liar, and probably -have to assume several aliases before death. But the worst of all is -to decide upon a name before the child is born, and then afterwards -change to some other. Singular to say, in Cleveland you are told that -such a proceeding ’can end i’ nowt bud harm’; but you are not informed -either precisely what form the harm will take, or why. There is a -legend lingering still in Wensleydale, to the effect that once a soul -was permitted to view the body it would shortly tenant. The mother -happened to say whilst the soul was near, ‘When my baby is born, if -a boy, we shall have him christened ——,’ mentioning the name they had -decided upon. The soul knew it would be a boy, and on its return to -spirit-land gave a full description of the body it was going to have -for its companion on earth, mentioning at the same time the name by -which it would be known. What then was its dismay to discover, on being -carried to the font, that it was being christened by some other name. -For a time it was sorely troubled. What must it do? What could it do? -In the end it felt there was only one way open: it must hurry back to -soul-land and clear itself from an apparent untruth, but in order to do -this it must free itself from the body; but if ever the soul and body -part company they never meet again. So the baby died, and the soul went -back to spirit-land. - -The above was given to me years ago by an old Yorkshire dame, who -during her girlhood, if not a native, lived for many years in the -village of West Burton. In the dales of Cleveland and Wensleydale, -to guard her babe from the influence of evil spirits and bad wishes, -the mother used to place a Bible under the pillow of the sleeping -child, until such time as the infant had been christened, that being -considered sufficient protection against all evil spirits. And in the -days of witchcraft, in many houses where the first cradle would shortly -be tenanted, it was most carefully kept wrong side up until the child -was laid in it. This was done so that no other living thing in that -house should sleep in it before the coming owner. Otherwise the cradle -would be forestalled, and in after years the occupant might have reason -to doubt the fidelity of his wife, or vice versa. - -In such fear was this forestalling of the cradle held, that one was -rarely purchased until absolutely needed. A cradle should always be -paid for before it crosses the threshold. It is said that the child -who sleeps in an unpaid-for cradle will end its days lacking the means -to pay for its own coffin, or, as others put it, be too poor to pay -for its lodgings on the earth or in it. Should the baby when grown -older say ‘Papa’ before he or she utters ‘Mamma,’ then be assured the -next little stranger will be a boy; however, should it say ‘Mamma’ -first, then it will be a girl; and should it say ‘Papa’ and a girl is -born, then be quite sure that it said ‘Mamma’ some little time before, -when no one was near. This last bit is mine; I like to help even a -superstition out of a difficulty. - -If baby’s first tooth appears in the upper jaw, it is not considered -a good sign; there is a fear of the child dying in infancy. Sometimes -they don’t. - -Should the baby be born with a mole on its chin, success is strongly -foreshadowed; the same on the left thigh is considered quite the -reverse. One on the right temple gives wealth and high position, and -one placed at the outside corner of either eye denotes a sudden death. -Whilst - - A dimple on the chin brings a fortune in, - A dimple on the cheek leaves the fortune for to seek. - -No woman ever dreamt of crossing any threshold but her own until after -she had been churched, as in doing so she carried ill-luck into every -house she entered. - -At the baptism, should a boy and a girl be presented at the same time, -the boy must always be christened first, as otherwise he will play -second fiddle to his wife, and when come to man’s estate be for ever -beardless and effeminate; and worse than this, the baby girl when -grown up will assuredly possess more hair on her face than is usually -considered needful, and more than beauty demands. She will also be -manly and masculine in her ways and habits. - -When the new baby is taken round for inspection, the lady of the house, -after passing various eulogiums on and over the small being, pins to -its garments a small packet to help the future Lord Chancellor on his -way through life. This packet contains three things—an egg, a silver -coin, and a pinch of salt: the salt, so that it may never lack the -savour of life, whatever that may be; the egg assures it food, raiment, -and a roof over its head; and the coin starts it off with a banking -account. If these well-wishers were to add a fourth gift, in the form -of a small cane, sufficiently hypnotized so that the young mother -would be compelled to use it when needed, what a lot of really fine -bairns there would be. Unfortunately superstition has never been run on -practical lines. - - - _Death._ - -A lack of the needful may compel the parties concerned to wed without -the smallest attempt at rural ostentation, but not so in the case of a -funeral. Every sacrifice is made to honour the dead. They like it to be -said that their loved ones were decently buried. They themselves feel -proud to say, ‘Aye, he’s geean; wa’ve gitten him sahded by’ (buried), -‘an’ it war a beautiful funeral; Ah will say that.’ - -In these days one can scarcely conceive the needless waste of money, -and by those too who can ill afford it, which is so lavishly squandered -on funeral folly. It was even worse a few years ago. - -Had it been possible for the moment to put on one side the solemn fact -that some dearly loved one was being borne to his or her last long -rest, funerals, as I remember them years ago in Ripon, were more like -circus processions than anything else. Happily many of the old notions -are being laid aside by the rising generation. Yet often to-day in -country places, as far as circumstances will admit, the old order of -things is most rigidly observed. - -Two years ago I witnessed a country funeral, almost in all the pristine -glory of my youthful days. One thing it lacked, the hearse and horses -with their sombre nodding plumes. This, be it remembered, was the -funeral of a widow’s son, her finances at the time being in anything -but a flourishing condition. Two mutes stood guarding the open door. A -silk scarf about three yards long was given to each bearer and mourner -to fasten round his hat, and a pair of black kid gloves to every one -bidden. I cannot say how much port wine was drunk, what it cost per -bottle, or the weight of finger biscuits consumed, but as these were -freely handed to every one assembled inside and outside the house, who -could roll a pocket handkerchief into a ball, and assume a funereal -aspect of countenance, considerable expense must have been incurred -with these two items alone. After the return from the graveside, there -was the funeral feast. Those who have never seen what provision is -made for an affair of this kind can form but a very poor idea of the -actual amount of food provided for and consumed by those who follow -as mourners to the graveside. Refreshment is necessary for those who -have driven, it may be, a long distance to pay their last respect to -the departed one, but in the case of those who live near by, surely -it does not need a moment’s thought for them to decide upon the more -seemly course to pursue. The old days of the funeral arvel, when almost -the whole countryside were bidden, not only to the funeral, but to the -funeral feast, have passed away, or nearly so. Even to-day, in many of -our dales, the neighbours are still bidden. This bidding, and the very -name of it, are both of Scandinavian origin. The order of men carrying -men, and women women, is still observed. The same also with the sex of -the young; only, in the case of a young maiden, the girls who act as -bearers are dressed in white, and the carrying of a garland in front -of the coffin is not even yet extinct. At one time these garlands[25] -were after the funeral hung up in the church, and I believe in some of -our dale churches in Cleveland these emblems of purity are to be seen -hanging yet. - -In the case of women who died in childbirth, a white sheet was thrown -over the coffin. The bearing of the coffin either by towels (staves -are things of the past now) or on the shoulders is equally common in -various parts of the riding. - -Should the family of the departed one possess a hive, the announcement -of a death must at once be made to the bees, and the hive be draped in -black. The bees must also have given to them a portion of everything, -to the minutest detail, which is offered to the bidden guests, -including wine, spirits, tobacco, and pipes; nothing must be omitted, -for in some undefined way bees watch over the welfare of those to -whom they belong, and it would be unwise to offend them. It is held -that if the first swarm following a death, no matter how long the -interval, is easy to hive, success is guaranteed for the next business -transaction, but should the swarm settle on a dead bough, it foretells -death to another of the family in the near future; while should the -swarm fly away and be lost, then great care must be exercised in all -undertakings, until such times as a swarm has been successfully hived. - -It is not so very long ago since every funeral at Guisborough[26] was -headed by the sexton singing a hymn from the house to the church gates, -but this singing by friends is common to-day. - -The superstitions connected with the dying and the dead are many and -varied. Few country people doubt the existence of a power by which the -living can (as they put it) hold back the dying. It is not an uncommon -thing to hear some one say, ‘Sha wad ’a’e deed last neet, nobbut Mary -wadn’t let her gan,’ or ‘Mary wadn’t gi’e her up,’ or ‘Mary ho’ds on -tiv her seea.’ It is, as it were, the last link of the chain connecting -life with the earthly side of eternity, the snapping of which would -for ever free the soul, but which the dying person is unable to break, -because some one refuses to be reconciled; they cannot bear to part -with them, and in this way hold them back. Again, the soul cannot free -itself if the dying person has been laid on a bed containing pigeon -feathers, or the feathers of wild birds even. Instances are on record -of pigeon feathers having been placed in a small bag, and thrust under -dying persons to hold them back, until the arrival of some loved one; -but the meeting having taken place, the feathers were withdrawn, and -death allowed to enter. - -On the other hand, when something unaccountable has seemed to prevent a -person _in extremis_ from passing into the other world, pigeon feathers -have often been suspected. Under such circumstances the invalid has -been lifted out of bed, and either laid upon another one, or seated in -a chair. And as a rule death speedily followed either treatment, the -patient passing away in an incredibly short space of time, which of -course clearly proved that such feathers had inadvertently been mixed -with those in the bed. - -When the signs of death are observed the windows and door are thrown -wide open, and a silence as still as death itself is maintained, so -that nothing shall either hinder the dark angel from setting his seal -on their loved one, or impede the soul’s flight over the borderland -into that of the great unknown. - -Much of what is done may be rooted in the rankest superstition, or -in many cases long-forgotten pagan rites, and one feels inclined to -smile; but, after a moment’s consideration, one is forcibly reminded -that it is equally deeply rooted in the old belief, which embraces -in its faith a devil, a fiery hell, Jonah, whale, and everything. As -things go nowadays, theorists are not leaving us much to believe or be -superstitious about. - -The death-watch, with its ’tick-a-tick,’ has blanched the cheek of -many an otherwise brave Yorkshire man and woman. Tell them it is only -the head of a small beetle called _Atropos_ tapping against the wood -as it eats its way out, and they will jeer at you. They know, as their -fore-elders did before them, that it is the sign of death; if not for -some one in that house, assuredly so for some one in the village, and -by-and-by some one dies, and wise heads are shaken—they knew. - -Every care is taken that nothing animate shall pass over the corpse. I -never heard of any domestic pet having been killed which so offended, -though such at one time would have been the case a little further north. - -The belief still lingers that the passing bell possesses the power to -drive away all evil spirits, and so prevent them from troubling the -soul in its upward flight, for even to-day a sexton, on being asked to -‘put the bell in,’ is also often urged to do so as speedily as possible. - -It is looked upon as a kindly action, when standing by the corpse of -some dear one, if the visitor gently touch the same. In some undefined -way, this solemn contact of the living with the dead, makes known to -the sorrowing ones that nothing but sympathy is felt. By this act all -past injuries or misunderstandings, if such existed, are blotted out, -forgiven, forgotten. - -So soon as the vital spark has left its earthly house, the fire, if -such be burning in the room, is immediately extinguished[27], and it -is not an uncommon thing for the looking-glass to be either draped -entirely, turned with its face to the wall, or removed from the room. -The omens denoting the near approach of death are many—a white dove -fluttering near the window, the rapid flight of birds over the house, -and in some instances the actual appearance, to some dearly loved one, -of the wraith of the person about to die. Many instances of the latter -could be given. - -I cannot say when or where the Lyke Wake dirge was sung for the last -time in the North Riding, but I remember once talking to an old chap -who remembered it being sung over the corpse of a distant relation -of his, a native of Kildale. This would be about 1800, and he told -me that Lyke Wakes were of rare occurrence then, and only heard of -in out-of-the-way places. Doubtless this was so, but a superstition -closely connected with the Lyke Wake is still with us. Old people will -tell you that after death the soul passes over Whinny Moor, a place -full of whins and brambles; and according as the soul when a tenant of -the body administered to the wants of others, so would its passage over -the dreaded moor be made easy. It seems, according to the old belief, -every one ought to give at least one pair of new shoes to some poor -person, and as often as means would allow, feed and clothe the needy. -Whether these rules were faithfully carried out or not, the soul on -approaching Whinny Moor would be met by an old man carrying a huge -bundle of boots; and if amongst these could be found a pair which the -bare-footed soul had given away during life, the old man gave them to -the soul to protect its feet whilst crossing the thorny moor. - - - THE LYKE WAKE DIRGE. - - This yah neet, this yah neet, - Ivvery neet an’ awl (all), - Fire an’ fleet an’ cann’l leet, - An’ Christ tak up thi sowl. - - When thoo fra hither gans awaay, - Ivvery neet an’ awl, - Ti Whinny Moor thoo cum’st at last, - An’ Christ tak up thi sowl. - - If ivver thoo gav’ owther hosen or shoon, - Ivvery neet an’ awl, - Clap tha doon an’ put ’em on, - An’ Christ tak up thi sowl. - - Bud if hosen or shoon thoo nivver ga’ neean, - Ivvery neet an’ awl, - T’ whinnies ’ll prick tha sair ti t’ beean, - An’ Christ tak up thi sowl. - - Fra Whinny Moor that thoo mayst pass, - Ivvery neet an’ awl, - Ti t’ Brigg o’ Dreead thoo’ll cum at last, - An’ Christ tak up thi sowl. - - If ivver thoo gav’ o’ thi siller an’ gawd, - Ivvery neet an’ awl, - At t’ Brigg o’ Dreead thoo’ll finnd footho’d, - An’ Christ tak up thi sowl. - - Bud if o’ siller an’ gawd thoo nivver ga’ neean, - Ivvery neet an’ awl, - Thoo’ll doon, doon tumm’l tiwards Hell fleeams, - An’ Christ tak up thi sowl. - - Fra t’ Brigg o’ Dreead ’at thoo mayst pass, - Ivvery neet an’ awl, - Ti t’ fleeams o’ Hell thoo’ll cum at last, - An’ Christ tak up thi sowl. - - If ivver thoo gav’ owther bite or sup, - Ivvery neet an’ awl, - T’ fleeams ’ll nivver catch tha up, - An’ Christ tak up thi sowl. - - Bud if bite or sup thoo nivver ga’ neean, - Ivvery neet an’ awl, - T’ fleeams ’ll bo’n tha sair ti t’ beean, - An’ Christ tak up thi sowl. - - -Although there is a place called Whinny Moor, as used in the Lyke -Wake song it is mythical, simply representing a wearying hindersome -tract of land through which the soul must perforce pass, the ease or -difficulty of such passage being lesser or greater according to the -good deeds done and alms bestowed during life. There are other versions -of the song; the one here given is as it was dictated to me. How the -original from which it was taken was worded, I cannot say. There is -another version in the North Riding which seems to have been written -according to the tenets of Rome; at least I imagine so, as purgatory -takes the place of hellish flames, as given above. It may be mentioned -that the influence of the Reformation never reached many of the dales -in Cleveland and those further westward. Hence the more commonly known -version is in the phraseology of the predominant belief of that time. - -Evidently the version given is one of a much later date, and must have -been sung by a Protestant. - -As to the ‘Brigg o’ Dreead,’ I dare say but little; ‘Fools only rush -gaily in where angels fear to tread.’ However, I may venture this far; -just as Whinny Moor had to be passed, so the ‘Brigg o’ Dreead’ had to -be crossed. Upon one point all authorities agree. Wherever it was, or -whatever its form, the Brigg was the real crux. Whether we incline to -the theory that it was as narrow as a thread, shaky as an aspen leaf, -or slippery as a glacier side, it had to be crossed. This accomplished, -the soul was fairly safe. But did it slip or stumble whilst crossing, -then the length of time occupied in its fearful descent, the depth -to which it fell, together with all the concomitant evils belonging -thereto, depended solely upon the amount of good and evil with which it -had been accredited during its earthly pilgrimage. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - OMENS, CHARMS, RECIPES - - -Quite a volume might be written on the above; their number and variety -is legion. Therefore in brief only will it be possible to treat many of -our omens, &c. To some few of the more striking a few details will be -given. - -Many of the omens, charms, &c., quoted are in no sense peculiar either -to our riding or county. They are with us, they are duly observed, and -the belief in them is not wholly dead yet. - -To break a looking-glass foreshadows an early death, or great evil in -the near future, and for any one (if they have not previously seen or -spoken to the person that day) to look over his or her shoulder, so -that their reflection is seen in the glass, foretells an untimely death -to one or both. Should a hen crow, the reward for its exhibiting such -marvellous vocal powers would be immediate death. The old song says -(date, the early seventies)— - - - Than awn a crawing hen, - Ah seeaner wad t’ au’d divil meet, - Hickity O, pickity O, pompolorum jig, - Or breed a whistling lass, - Ah seeaner wad t’ au’d divil treeat, - Hickity O, pickity O, pompolorum jig. - Nowt bud ill-luck ’ll fester wheear - Ther craws an’ whistles sike a pair; - Maay hens an’ wimin breed neea mair, - Pompolorum jig. - - -A dog howling under your window three nights in succession portends -evil or death in the near future. A picture falling, if the glass be -broken, speaks clearly of a death in the family at no very distant -date; the glass being intact, implies that misfortune of some kind is -hanging overhead, but possibly everything may come right in the end. - -A strange cat coming to your house, if black, should never be driven -away; if you do so, you simply drive luck from your door. - -If you are unmarried, be very careful to keep in mind the fact that, -having attended three funerals, you must at least be present during -part of a wedding service before standing at the graveside of a fourth, -or you will die single, unless you are exceedingly rash, and get -married in spite of everything. - -If you accidentally break anything, it is a good plan to let two other -articles of little or no value slip from your hand. This will save you -from breaking two other things of value, because you are bound to smash -three, and it is really an advantage to be allowed to choose two of -them yourself. - -Yes, things go by threes. If one death takes place in a street, it -won’t be long ere the bell tolls for two others—so say they. - -If the youngest daughter in a family is married first, the eldest -had better unravel one of her garters, knitting the same, mixed with -other wool, into something a man can wear. This she must present to -the one she has a special regard for, and it most likely will incline -his heart towards her. Garters, by-the-way, are rather out of it -now; they once were articles in great request, to work charms and -spells with, but that was in the days when either a long band with a -buckle, or a knitted affair about an inch wide and a yard long, was -universally worn. In these days of patent things and other inventions, -some of which do not encircle the leg at all, the girls are debarred -from resorting to many of the old-time spells. In days past, so long -as a fellow wore one of his lady love’s garters round his neck, he -was bound to be true to her and she to him. Did a fellow try the same -thing now, he would strangle himself. The old-time garters, by-the-way, -had other uses; the Bible, a key, and a garter often playing the part -of a private detective, or infallibly making known to some doubting -maiden the name of the man she would marry. The _modus operandi_ was as -follows:—In the case of an undetected thief, a key was placed within -the Bible; this was bound securely within by winding a garter round it, -the whole being suspended from a nail. The name of the supposed thief -was now mentioned three times—in some districts seven—and if the key -turned round, the thief was discovered. - -Very similar were the rites used for the discovery of a future husband. -In this case, however, the maiden wishing to know her fate, had to use -one of her own garters, and it was also needful that the Bible should -be opened at Ruth i. 16, 17. Some part of the key resting on the verses -named, the Bible was then closed, and the key as before bound fast with -the garter. The questioner and some other person now seated themselves -opposite each other, each placing an elbow on a table and resting the -open part of the key on their index fingers. All being thus arranged, -the names of several of their male acquaintances were mentioned, the -key turning on the name of the future husband being uttered. Not long -ago the writer helped a maiden through the ceremony. The above, and the -two following, are still commonly resorted to. - -There is no difficulty in obtaining information touching the time you -will be married. Simply let an anxious maiden take a looking-glass, -and an apron which she has never worn or held between herself and the -light, into the garden when the moon is at full; she must be careful -not to look upon the queen of night until the rites are concluded. -Keeping her back, then, to the moon, let her stand upon something she -has never stood upon before—a newspaper, an old box, anything—and -drawing the apron over the glass, hold it so that the moon shines upon -it; let her now count the number of moons she sees reflected through -the apron, and so many years will it be before the happy day arrives. -I may mention, if such a one is in any violent hurry to get married, -it is best to choose the apron of some light material, and to draw it -tightly over the glass; careful attention to these small details has a -marvellous tendency to lessen the number of moons. - -Throughout Cleveland the maidens have recourse to the following method -of divination for the discovery whether they are to be married or die -old maids. From a stream running southward a maiden fills a clean -glass with water, and having borrowed an old wedding ring, or one -worn by a widow—the ring must grace maternity—she suspends it over -the glass of water hanging by a single hair drawn from her own head, -her elbow resting on the table and the hair being laid over the ball -of the thumb. Should the ring hit the side of the glass, her fate is -sealed—she will die an old maid; if, however, it spins round quickly, -she will have to wait a year; if slowly, she will be wedded more than -once. - -It is commonly held that if you can find a four-leaved clover, and -then walk backward upstairs to bed, sleeping with the leaf under your -pillow, you will dream of the man you will marry. - -It is considered most unlucky to see the new moon for the first time -through glass. To break the spell cast upon you by such an unfortunate -occurrence, make the sign of the cross on the doorstep, and jump -backwards over it into the house. - -Should a hairy worm cross your path, pick it up, throw it over your -shoulder, and wish. - -If you tread on an ordinary road beetle, rain will presently fall. - -Whenever you hear a cuckoo, turn the money over in your pocket for luck. - -To see a single magpie is very unlucky; two together is the reverse. - -To see a single owl is also unlucky; but to hear one hoot, and then -see it, foretells that you will have timely warning of some impending -evil. - -Wet your finger and cross your left shoe and wish every time you see a -piebald horse. - -Should two persons utter the same words at the same time, they must -link their little fingers together and wish, keeping their wish secret. - -The deciduous teeth of a male child, which have not touched the ground, -if kept about the person are a specific against all manner of evil. - -To ensure the child having a good and sound set of teeth, those which -fall out of themselves, or which the child itself pulls out, should be -dipped in salt and thrown into the fire. - -A tooth found in a churchyard is believed to charm away the toothache -if rubbed on the cheek. - -And lastly, children’s teeth must either be carefully preserved or -utterly destroyed by fire with salt, as should one accidentally be -swept away and fall into the ground, or be buried by some evil-minded -person, the child will not live long, the first rites of ashes to ashes -having been consummated. - -No luck will follow a declaration of love if made on St. Dunstan’s Day. - -To be wed on St. Thomas’s Day makes a bride a widow ere long. - -A young woman, a native of Great Ayton, assured me the following was -a certain charm for obtaining a sight of one’s future spouse. The -individual desirous of obtaining such a vision must make a cake of -the following ingredients:—flour, a small pinch of graveyard mould -taken from nine different graves, sufficient water from nine distinct -sources, a pinch of salt, and a drop or two of blood from her third -finger. The resulting dough had to be baked at midnight on the eve -before that of St. Agnes, and whilst warm placed under the pillow; if -found whole in the morning, well and good; if not, the charm could not -be carried to its conclusion until the following year. The cake, if -whole, had to be carried on the eve of St. Agnes and laid where four -cross roads meet. All being accomplished, just before midnight the -future husband or wife would come along, halt, look at the cake, and -then vanish. Although the night might be pitch-dark, the apparition, it -seems, would be quite visible. Immediately the spirit form vanished, -the watcher must regain possession of the cake at once, or the water -elves would seize it and work all manner of evil. These water elves -keep cropping up, but little of their doings and nothing of their -appearance seems to be known amongst our people. It is a bit of lost -myth. - -During harvest time you may easily discover how long you are destined -to wait before being led to the altar. When the moon is at full, pluck -three ripe ears of barley, which must be carefully wrapped up together -with something belonging to him you love best. The parcel must be laid -under your pillow, and on arising in the morning, open it, and if all -the grains have remained _in situ_, then you will be wed that year; but -if any have broken away, count how many—they tell how many years you -will remain single. - -If a young fellow is in love, and the girl’s heart does not incline -towards him, there is a charm which will cast a spell about her from -which she cannot escape. There is a difficulty, and rather a grave one, -but love surmounts all things, so they say. He must cut off a willow -knot and chew it. So far, it is quite a simple affair; given time, a -love-lorn swain might manage to masticate the whole tree. But now comes -the difficulty—having chewed the said knot, he must secrete the same in -the bed of the girl he loves. Once she falls asleep with that chewed -knot as her companion, she will be bound to yield to his importunities. -Should, however, the knot be so placed that it causes the fair sleeper -such inconvenience that she is compelled to find the cause, and having -done so, throws it away, that young man may consider his case as -hopeless. - -If you can, within three days after becoming engaged, seize a snail -by its horns and throw it over your left shoulder, you will to a very -considerable extent reduce the roughness of the road which true love is -said to journey along. - -And remember it is unlucky to say good-night three times to the girl -you love, without returning to the house and starting the whole thing -over again, but one doesn’t mind that. When parting with friends for -any length of time, never say goodbye without adding that you hope to -see them again, and never watch the parting ones out of sight—it is -most unlucky. - -The various nostrums administered, and the methods employed in days -past for the cure of all the diseases man is heir to, one cannot help -but think, if carefully observed, would usually have terminated in a -funeral feast. The rank filth our forefathers had prepared for them, -and doubtless were induced to swallow, has left behind the unsolvable -mystery of accounting for the fact that specimens of the Anglo-Saxon -race are still extant. Putting on one side for the moment the wretched -stuff they had to swallow, let us turn to a few things usually employed -to effect a cure. - -If any one was seized with a colic, and colic water was not handy, all -that was necessary was for some one to slip out and catch either a carp -or a pike, slit the fish open whilst alive, and clap it on the stomach -of the sufferer—and lo! a cure. This sounds all very nice, but it has -often taken me three days to catch a pike, and carp, by-the-way, are -not very widely distributed; and as colic water required for the making -thereof nearly every flower which blooms in our woods and gardens, and -of two or three others which never do so in ’perfidious Albion’—and -when actually all things had been obtained, it could not be properly -prepared under nine months—possibly there may have been some other -remedy I have not heard of, and which could be applied during the time -the pike was being captured, otherwise the patient would often have a -lengthy squirm of it. - -For pains in the joints, a toad tied belly downwards over the affected -part would enable the patient to walk as well as ever. Now this is -something sensible; just you find a poor body suffering from pains -in the joints, and then produce a toad, and you will work a miracle. -Long before you can tie it belly downwards anywhere, the patient, if -a female, will be beating her best running record; if a male, his -joints will be right in an instant, and you will have to take the toad -outside, minus dignity. - -An old lady tells me she has known a drink made from the following -ingredients do a power of good in case of fever:—a handful of -dandelion, agrimony, verjuice, rue, powdered crab’s eyes and claws, and -yarrow from off a grave. These had to be boiled for some hours, and -taken when the moon was on the wane. Doubtless there was another recipe -equally efficacious for those who unfortunately were struck down with -fever when the moon was on the rise. - -The tongue of a still-born calf, if dried and worn so that it touched -the spine, would prevent fits of almost any kind. - -Wart-charmers are not defunct yet. I know several who, after -pronouncing an inaudible incantation, rub the wart with a special -stone, and then you are assured the wart or warts will die. Frog spit -rubbed on a wart is said to be a certain cure. If you rub your wart -with a black snail, sticking the snail on a thorn where you will never -see it again, the wart, as the snail dies, will disappear. If you -yearn to afflict any one with warts, let them wash in water in which -eggs have been boiled. This belief is quite common to-day. A plate of -salt, upon which a dead man’s hand has rested overnight, used to be -considered good for chilblains. - -Master Sadler of Bedale, in the year 1773, undertook the cure of ague -in quite a simple way. After the patient had answered a few searching -questions touching his past private life—which information doubtless -he would much rather have kept to himself—his name was chalked at the -back of the hob, an incantation pronounced, and he went home whole. I -am inclined to the belief that many in these days would have to take -the ague back with them. The ague is bad enough, but for a fellow to -systematically trot out one’s past doings would be infinitely worse. -That was a hundred years ago; but only the other day I was told that if -a field-mouse was skinned and made into a small pie and eaten, and the -warm skin bound hair-side against the throat, and kept there for nine -days, the worst whooping cough ’’at ivver was’ would be cured. - -Speaking of whooping cough, I remember a lady at Guisborough, only a -few years ago, taking both her boys to the gasworks for them to inhale -the fumes from the gas-tank. It nearly poisoned the whole three, but -the cough survived it nicely. However, that and the field-mouse were -infinitely preferable to the recipe I had from an old dame, who assured -me ’no cough o’ no kind whatsoever could stan’ agaan it.’ It was this: -equal quantities of hare’s dung and owl’s pellets—the latter are the -disgorged remains of feathers, bones, &c., which the owl objects -to digest. Well, having carefully mixed these two ingredients with -dill-water, clay, and the blood of a white duck, the resulting filth -had to be made into pills the size of a nut, three of which had to -be taken fasting on going to bed. This was to be continued until the -cough was cured or the patient buried. A much simpler method is to -catch a frog, open its mouth and cough into it three times, throw the -poor brute over your left shoulder, and the patient will be cured -at once. If not, depend upon it there is some very good reason why -the charm has failed. One woman I knew, used to take her little girl -and hold her over an old well when a bad fit of coughing seized the -child. She declared, if at the time either a frog or a toad happened -to be at the bottom of the well with its mouth open, the child would -be cured instantly. I offered to catch her a frog and open its mouth -for the child to cough into; this she objected to, because, as she -said, the frog might spit at it and injure it for life. This belief -in the poisonous and spitting power of frogs is still retained by the -good people of Great Ayton, and also of many other places. I remember -an old angler once saying to me, ‘Ya see, the Lord gav’ t’ fishes -understan’ing; tha knaw ’at frogs is venomous, an’ tha’re a gran’ bait -foor pike, bud neea pike’ll tak ho’d if ya deean’t run t’ heuk thruff -baith ther lips, seea ez tha can’t spit at ’em.’ ‘But,’ said I, ‘how do -the pike catch them when they are swimming in a natural state?’ ‘Easy -eneeaf,’ answered he; ‘tha tak hodden ’em fra behint, an’ tha can’t -spit backkards waay ower ther heeads, ya knaw.’ - -Still another plan may be tried to ease the little sufferers. If they -be passed nine times under the belly and over the back of either a -piebald pony or an ass (the latter preferred), the cough will be -immediately charmed away, whilst a touch on the larynx from the hand -of a seventh son of a seventh son is held to be a certain cure. And a -hairy caterpillar or small wood-lizard tied round the child’s neck, -having been stitched in a small bag, was, and I believe is yet, looked -upon as a sovereign remedy. - -Snail soup is drunk even to-day for the cure of consumption. And the -skin of an eel (if skinned when alive), placed in a silken bag and worn -so as to rest on the chest, is believed to cut phlegm when nothing else -will. - -To cure the ‘water-springs,’ an old name for acidity or heartburn, old -people tell me the following is an infallible cure if taken in time—a -very wise proviso—burnt oyster, cockle, and mussel shells ground to -powder, equal parts, and mixed in worm-water. This latter was prepared -by gathering a handful of worms from the churchyard and boiling them. -The burnt shells might do good; ordinary water and chalk would have -been equally efficacious, had they but known it. - -But nearly every disease or complaint had its cure in days past, and, -in a more or less degree, all were nasty. - -For the moment let us return to wart-charmers. There is room here for -both speculation and research. They did cure warts, of that there is -not the least shadow of a doubt. The amount of evidence on record is -such that contradiction and disbelief amounts to crass folly, and -shows an ignorance of well-authenticated facts. A man I know, whose -hand was covered with warts—warts which simply jeered at caustic and -all such applications—at last went to the charmer. What did the man -do? He simply asked the old chap if he believed he could remove them. -Having answered in the affirmative, the charmer just rubbed his hand -over the whole lot, muttered some words, and told the warty one to go -home—in a fortnight’s time he was wartless. Hundreds of cases could -be given. Absolute faith that they would disappear, may have exercised -some mental action over the physical, and the trick was done. In this -way, if we admit some hypnotic power which they unconsciously used, we -may account for many of the wonders which these charmers and wise men -worked in days past, often bringing about results at which possibly no -one was more surprised than the wise men themselves; but they, like -many of to-day, had the sense to hold their peace, and that has often -dressed many a conjuring trick with all trappings of philosophy. - -It is held to-day, when any one is bitten by a dog, that the only -certain remedy against hydrophobia is to have the brute killed at once. -For, say they, should the dog in years to come go mad, all those bitten -by it will go mad at the same time. - -The wearing of silver rings made from a single coin presented at Holy -Communion, was once held as a sovereign remedy and preventive against -epileptic fits. - -The cures for children and others afflicted with worms are many and -curious. A few of the more striking will be noticed. A bunch of fine -yarrow, gathered from off a maiden’s grave, had to be boiled in water, -and a wineglassful of the liquor, with the addition of as much finely -powdered glass as would lie on a groat, had to be taken fasting for -six alternate mornings, bearing in mind that each morning the patient -was not fattening himself on corpse yarrow and broken window-panes; he -had also to swallow a stiff glass of salts and senna, which not only -made every kind of worm quit its hold of his inside, but left him in a -condition almost, if not quite, ready for the worms to commence their -attack from the outside. Worms, however, are seized with such a sudden -fear when a live trout is brought near them, that they die right off. -Hence it is not an uncommon thing for a father to procure a live trout, -and lay the same on the stomach of a wormy one. And then, what with the -fish kicking and the bairn screaming, the poor worms have no chance, -and they know it, and throw up the sponge accordingly. - -In days past cramp seems to have awakened people three or four times -a week. But sleeping with your stockings on, with a piece of sulphur -in each, or the skin of a mole bound round the left thigh, or even -crossing your shoes on retiring to rest, would drive the cramp away. -Cramp, it would seem, was formerly looked upon as having a very close -connexion with the devil, and was often the result of an evil wish, -spell, or witch-work. In cases when it arose from any of the latter, -something more potent than sulphur and the crossing of shoes had to -be resorted to. A silken thread which had been passed round a coffin, -care having been taken to thread the silk through the handles, would, -if worn round the leg, just below the knee-joint, securely guard the -wearer against wicked spells of that nature. - -The skin of an eel, if tied round the leg, prevents cramp whilst -bathing. - -Rings fashioned from any metal accidentally turned up whilst digging a -grave, were until quite recently in great repute, especial virtue being -attached to one made from a coffin handle. Such rings acted as a charm -against almost every kind of evil spell. - -Years ago it was commonly believed that there was some kind of sympathy -existing between the cause and the injury itself. An illustration of -this has been given in the case of a dog-bite, but it had a much wider -application; e.g. should any one be injured by a nail, or anything -else, the nail, &c., was carefully cleaned, polished, wrapped up, and -put away each time after dressing the wound. - -I remember a case in point within the last ten years. A plough lad was -hurt by the colter, the cutting iron of the plough; the ploughing was -stopped, the colter removed, and sent to the blacksmith, with orders to -remove all dirt and rust, and to polish all parts to which blood was -adhering; and during the recovery, each time the wound was dressed, the -colter was cleaned and polished with equal care. - -Flint arrow-heads were for ages looked upon as elf-stones, and -are to-day worn as charms against unseen evils. They also possess -healing power in certain diseases. So, too, do the belemnites—a -fossilized portion of an extinct cuttle-fish. These, in the hand of a -skilled person, work wonders in the case of sore eyes and ringworm. -Unfortunately, though belemnites are common enough, the skilled hands -are rare, and so their virtue in thousands of instances lies dormant. -These belemnites are supposed to fall from the clouds during a -thunderstorm; the same is said of rounded pieces of quartz or flints, -one and all being called thunder-bolts, or ’thunner-steeans.’ - -When a boy, I was an ardent archaeologist. I remember on one occasion -having been told that chipped flints were to be found in a field -near Blois Hall[28]. Hurrying thither the first whole holiday, I was -fortunate enough on that occasion to find a flint arrow-head—the only -one I ever did find. This I showed to an old fellow who was hedging; -without hesitation he pronounced it to be an elf-stone, declaring that -the elves were evil spirits, who in days past used to throw them at the -kie—I had up to that time always been told they were shot at cattle—but -my informant stuck to throwing. I well remember that he also said the -elves got them out of whirlpools, where they were originally made by -the water spirits, but he could not say what the water spirits used -them for, though he knew of several instances in which both cattle -and horses had been injured by the elves throwing their elf-stones at -them. He further informed me that when the elves got them from the -whirlpools, they had much longer shanks than was on the one I had -found: this was so that better aim might be taken with them. ‘But,’ -said he, ‘tha’re nivver fund wi’ lang shanks on, acoz t’ fairies awlus -brak ’em off, seea ez t’ elves wadn’t be yabble ti potch ’em at t’ -beasts neea mair;’ and he had been told that fairies often wore them -as ornaments. Sore eyes could be cured by the touch from an elf-stone, -if a fairy had ever worn it, and they were also a potent love-charm if -worn so that they rested near the heart. - -Speaking of fairies, I know an old lady who still fully believes in -their existence. She assures me they have most beautiful houses at a -great depth below the surface. It seems no one ever finds them, because -the little folk possess the magical power of transporting them to a -distance in an instant, should there be the least likelihood of their -being disturbed; owing to this, ‘Nobody nivver cums across ’em when -well-sinking, mining, or owt o’ that soart.’ - -The old body told me the following story:— - -In the days when tailors went out to work, she remembered one who came -to work for her aunt being lost for a long time in a big field, and -unable to find his way out, and all because he had said, ‘If ever he -saw a fairy he would catch her, and take her home, and put her in a -bottle and keep her there.’ So it happened, when he left the house to -go home, and just when he entered the long pasture, he dropped his -scissors, and for long he could not find them, and when he did place -his hand on them, his sleeve-board was snatched from him. He heard it -drop quite close to him, but when he stooped to pick it up, a pork pie -which the farmer’s wife had given him mysteriously disappeared; how, -he did not know. However, a little way off, he saw a most beautiful -damsel carrying a light; he implored her to come to his aid, and as the -damsel and the light would not come to him, like Mahomet he went after -them. This proved a most bootless errand, for the damsel and light led -him on and on, hither and thither, now shining quite close at hand, -then disappearing, and at last vanishing altogether, leaving the tailor -utterly lost; and for long the poor fellow wandered about, until his -cries for help were fortunately heard, ‘bud nut afoor he’d bed aboon -tweea hours on ’t.’ - -That he had been under a fairy charm, and that she (the fairy) had been -making sport of him, was evident to all. Never again did that man say -he would bottle a fairy—at least, I imagine so. When a sleeve-board, a -pair of scissors, and a pork pie are snatched from you, and you see a -beautiful damsel carrying a light of some kind, which she snuffs out -every time she is going to be caught, only to light up again some yards -ahead, and then finally disappear altogether—well! even a tailor can -draw his own conclusions after a game of that kind. - -The other day I met an old lady in the train—a Mrs. Peary, of Sand -Hill Farm, near Picton. Although the old lady told me she was turned -seventy-three, she was as active as a woman of forty, and boasted she -could do the work of two lasses yet. I soon discovered she possessed -a fund of both witch and other lore. Next day I paid a visit to Sand -Hill, and had a couple of hours’ chat, or rather, I asked a few leading -questions, and then made notes as quickly as I could. - -For many years she lived in Bilsdale, her native place. Now, the dale -in question is only a few miles distant from the borders of Cleveland, -and yet she had never heard of many of the customs so common to that -division of the North Riding. ‘Mell suppers,’ she told me, were kept -up in Bilsdale in all their pristine glory so lately as twenty years -ago—guisers, mell doll, and everything. She did not know the word -‘spurrings,’ meaning putting the banns in. The common expression in -her part was, and still is, ‘So-and-so ’ev tumm’l’d ower t’ bauk an’ -brokken ther legs.’ I fail to see the application. - -Again, though it was the custom for the bridesmaids to undress the -bride, and see her comfortably into bed, she never remembered a case -of stocking throwing, though she had heard of it, or of any attempt to -keep the bridegroom amongst the revellers all night. Running for the -bride’s garter was common in her mother’s time, but mostly a ribbon in -her own. She had never heard of the custom of letting a child go up -before it went down, or that it was unlucky to mention what name the -child should be christened before its birth. - -I mention these facts because it bears out a previous statement, that -it is inadvisable to draw conclusions as to the non-existence of -customs or superstitions on evidence of a purely local character. - -Although much of what the old lady told me was general throughout the -riding, the following was new to me. - -For whooping cough I was assured that nothing was better than to walk -along a road until you found nine frogs; these had to be carried home -and made into soup. The patient on no account must see the frogs, or be -told of what the soup was composed—a most wise precaution—but on his or -her finishing the whole nine, soup and all, they would be found to be -quite recovered. It’s marvellous! - -Those who suffered from a weak bladder had a remedy at hand: they -simply had to stand astride at the head of an open grave, after the -coffin had been lowered, but before being filled in, and then walk -backwards to the foot of the same. It seems simple enough, but when you -come to look at it, nine people out of ten, in endeavouring to perform -the feat, would assuredly have surprised the onlookers by turning a -somersault and landing flat on their backs upon the coffin below. - -Again, count your warts, then unknown to any one take a small pebble -from as many different graves, put the lot in a small bag, throw it -over your left shoulder, and the warts will all disappear in a few -days. My old friend would not commence or conclude any business on a -Friday, and to break a clock-face was equally as unlucky as breaking a -looking-glass. Neither did she ever allow a candle to die out; to do -such a thing was, to her way of thinking, equal to passing sentence of -death on some one of the household. The cutting of the pepper-cake by -the doctor, on the birth of each grandchild, is still rigidly adhered -to by the old lady. Being farmers, one ceremony they still observed, -which was quite new to me. On the birth of a calf it was always carried -rear first to the stall in which it was to lie, a little salt and -water was given it to drink, and no one ever allowed to stride over -it, as that would mean death or ill-luck to it; but generally ’an -ower-stridden cauf deed,’ said she[29]. - -It is a bad sign, when starting on a journey, should the first person -you meet be a woman. In such fear was this held until quite recently, -that the fishermen near Staithes would not have gone to sea that day; -neither was it a good omen for a four-footed animal to cross their path -when going to their boat, or at any time. - -If whilst a fisherman was baiting his nets any one mentioned anything -in connexion with a pig, or Dakky, as it was called, the worst of luck -would be looked for, and in many cases the fisherman would have ceased -to bait his lines for a time. - -Again, no fisherwife would dream of winding wool by candle-light—to -do such a wicked thing would be tantamount to winding the husband -overboard. - -Some years ago a young fisherman paid a visit to some relations inland; -during his stay he fell in love with a maiden whom in time he took -home as his bride. She, new to their ways and beliefs, simply laughed -at their superstitions. It happened one night, when her husband was -away on a voyage, that a fisherwife looked in for a bit of friendly -gossip, and discovered the young wife by candle-light about to wind -some wool. She implored her not to do so, telling her of the dreadful -and sure result of such wicked folly; others, too, who had also dropped -in, joined in declaring what a fearful and certain risk she ran, but -it was all of no avail. With a laugh at such nonsense the winder laid -the wool over a chair-back, daring them to wait and watch her wind -it; but not a woman would stay in the house—they dare not. They fled, -and the wool was wound. Three times did the ball slip from her hand. -When the good wives heard of it, they shook their heads—it was a bad -omen, so said they. When the husband returned hearty and well from his -voyage, the young wife laughed at them more than ever, but they shook -their heads. The ball had slipped from her hand thrice; he might go and -return again, it was the third journey they feared. When he was told -what his wife had done, his face blanched—if she had no fear, he had. -He had been taught the belief all his life, she only, in a way, for -five minutes. One more voyage would he make, and then the sea should -know him no more; he would not, dare not chance a third voyage. Again -he returned safely to his wife, but, as he had said, that was his last -voyage. The two set up a little shop, and for three or four years all -went well. Then there came a great storm. Volunteers were needed for -the lifeboat—few able-bodied men were in the village at the time. For -the moment everything was forgotten; Jack jumped in, and off they went, -the women helping to launch the brave crew. The wrecked ones were -saved, but in getting the last half-drowned wretch into the boat, Jack -overbalanced and fell into the foaming sea; nothing could save him, and -his body was found lying peacefully on the beach next morning. And then -they remembered. Aye, and so should we, had we been taught the same -belief when round our mother’s knee. The neighbours were kind—they were -more than that, they gave to the sorrowing one all their sympathy—but, -in spite of their kindness, the widow felt that they held her guilty of -her husband’s death. So the little shop was closed, and she went forth -from amongst them, and the village knew her no more. - -There is a superstition in Cleveland that you must not eat a ’cock’s -egg,’ i.e. a small egg, the last one a hen lays before sitting. When -such are found, the contents are blown from the shell and burnt—the -merest speck of the contents even adhering to the clothes has a baneful -influence. The devil is said to superintend the laying of this last egg. - -It is considered advisable that a new broom should sweep something into -the house before it is used in the contrary direction, otherwise you -sweep good luck away from your threshold. - -I am told years ago it was considered ’a ventersome thing ti deea’ -for any one to speak disparagingly of their broom; the reason given -being that no one was ever certain as to whether or no it had been -witch-ridden. For should it have happened that a passing witch had one -night borrowed their broom for a ride, it became witch-ridden, and was -ever afterwards jealously watched over by the witch, and any indignity -offered to her steed was sure to be resented. - -It is looked upon as a most unwise thing for any one to give salt out -of the house. In days past it was supposed to give witches power over -the giver. Cases could be mentioned in which the work of the wise man -was totally frustrated by such a proceeding. - -It is most unlucky to give any one either a knife or any sharp -instrument: such folly severs love, and breeds suspicion in the breasts -of those who hitherto have held you in sincere regard. You may buy -such a present by giving something in return for it, and such payment -may be of the most trivial kind—a pin, a bit of paper, or anything. - -When you discover your shoe-lace is loose, walk nine paces before tying -it, otherwise you will tie ill-luck to you for that day. - -Should a mouse run across the room, throw something at it, or, anyway, -in the direction in which it ran. It may happen to have escaped from a -witch’s cat, and you will please either the cat or the witch, or both, -by making some kind of pretence to stop it. - -It is lucky, and acts as a charm, if you spit on, or place in your -mouth, the first money you receive each day. This is common to-day, but -I doubt if those who do so know its origin. - -Years ago witches were supposed to watch over or, as my informant put -it, ‘eye-spell’ the first money paid, and often used to spirit it away. -This they were unable to do after it had been placed in the mouth. It -has now degenerated into what is vulgarly called ’spitting on ’t fer -luck.’ It is quite commonly done in our markets to-day. - -A weasel crossing your path is most unlucky: it speaks of treachery. -This evil omen may be counteracted by the performance of a very mean -trick: drop a coin on the road where you saw the weasel cross, and the -evil which was yours by right, will cling to those who are unlucky -enough to find it. If there is a tramp behind you, when you see a coin -lying, leave it for him; he won’t mind about the ill-luck. - -Always pass an old shoe so as to have it on your right hand; and don’t -move it, lest you should help some unknown person on in the world, -which would only be done to the detriment of yourself, for just as much -as you advanced them, to that extent you would be the loser. An old hat -you may kick about as much as you have a mind, always being careful to -see some one has not placed a big stone underneath it—in that case it -is always unlucky to kick a hat. - -When a child was born, and it proved either unhealthy or deformed, it -was generally supposed some evil-disposed person must have pricked its -name with pins on a pincushion. When such a discovery was made by an -expectant wife, nothing was said to the person working the evil, but -the cushion was stolen, the pins withdrawn one by one, and stuck into -the heart of a calf. This had to be buried in the churchyard, care -being taken to bury it sufficiently deep, so that the dogs would not -scratch it up. All this had to be done before the child was born, and -by the mother. Such a discovery was made, and a heart stuck with pins -and buried, within the last twenty years. - -Sores or other evil diseases caused by witchcraft could be speedily -cured if attended to when the moon was on the wane. I do not know in -what form the application was used, but here are the ingredients as -given to me by an old fellow who, though he had never used it, had -heard ’’at nowt cud cum up tiv it.’ - - - Tak’ tweea ’at’s red an’ yan ’at’s blake (yellow) - O’ poison berries three, - Three fresh-cull’d blooms o’ Devil’s glut, - An’ a sprig o’ rosemary; - Tak’ henbane, bullace, bumm’lkite, - An’ t’ fluff frev a deead bulrush; - Nahn berries shak’ fra t’ rowan-tree, - An’ nahn fra botterey bush. - - -To this day there are fisher lasses who wear their chemises wrong -side out when their sailor lads are away at sea, and stormy weather -threatens. - -A friend of mine within the last five years heard a fisher lass say to -a group of her friends, ‘Ah deeant leyke t’ leeak o’ yon cloods, an’ t’ -winds gittin up; let’s gan yam an’ to’n wer sarks,’ and every one of -those who had a loved one on the water promptly did so. - -Again, does a maiden fear that her lover is growing cold, she turns -her chemise, so as to win back his cooling affections. This, like most -other old beliefs, is dying out now. It is rather an undertaking, as -fashion goes, for a lass to undress and dress again nowadays. - - - ... Her Jack war on t’ sea, - An’ t’ tuckkins marked her swelling breast, - Fer her sark war to’n’d aboot. - - * * * * * - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - WITCHCRAFT - - -Witch-lore runs so very much in the same groove, that one fairly good -example throws light on many points of interest. It was either the evil -eye, or the working of some spell, injury to cattle, or surreptitiously -riding horses during the midnight hour, an amusement which it would -seem witches were very prone to indulge in. Then followed a visit to -the wise man, during which he did something, usually winding up on his -part with an incantation, or the working of some anti-witch spell by -the injured ones on their own account at home. - -These charms for destroying the power of witches were numerous; in -fact a careless inquirer would be led to the conclusion that every -dale of any size possessed its own peculiar charm, but after a little -careful research and comparison, such an opinion will be found to be -untenable. The difference exists only in detail, nearly all springing -from one or two common roots. When and how it came about these varied -alterations crept in, is somewhat of a mystery, because one would -naturally suppose, where such a vital point was at issue, every word -and detail as to manipulation would be most carefully handed down. The -only solution I can offer—and I do so in all humility—is that these -charms had their birth in remote ages. Afterwards local circumstances -may have placed almost insuperable difficulties in the way of certain -details being carried out; others would then be substituted as nearly -approaching to the original as possible, probably by order of the -priest or wise man. Add to this the fact that a fable told through -long ages in different districts always unconsciously takes a local -colouring, and you have a partial solution. Still, if the details -differ, they do not run on widely diverging lines; in general they -manage to keep fairly parallel, the main essentials being always kept -well in sight. Whether animate or inanimate, the _thing_ had to be -injured, and then something burnt; midnight was always the time chosen -for the final part of the ceremony, seclusion, as far as possible, and -absolute silence being necessary. Many of these rites and ceremonies, -especially in connexion with witchcraft, consisting as they do of -blood, death, and burning by fire, seem to be all that is left us of -what may have been in remote ages a propitiatory sacrifice to some -pagan god. - -Chatting with an old mother one day, she remarked, ‘Aye, things is -altered noo. T’ young uns to’n up ther neeases’ (noses) ’at ommaist -ivvery thing ’at yan yance thowt an’ did; tha deea nowt bud mak gam -o’ yan if yan diz tell ’em owt, seea Ah nivver tells ’em nowt.’ This -statement explains much; the old people nowadays do keep their mouths -shut. It often happens that after an hour’s chat with some grey-headed -occupant of the big armchair, you gain more information about the -doings of days past than the rest of the household could have given -you, were they even willing to do so, because in many cases they have -little interest in things which ’happen’d afoor their tahm.’ But, -bear in mind, the unsealing of aged lips can only be accomplished -when properly approached, and a bond of mutual sympathy has been -established; then the lips and hearts will pour forth such a wealth of -bygone lore, that you will hardly be able to jot down your notes fast -enough. - -But to return to my old lady. ‘Why,’ said I, ‘when you were a girl -there would be witches, or was that before your time?’ For the benefit -of my readers I will give the rest of the story literally, but in -standard English. ‘No,’ said she, ‘that it is not. There was one Dolly -Makin; I once saw her myself, but she will be dead now, for she was -over a hundred then; but my aunt once had a strange bout with her.’ -‘And where did Dolly live?’ I asked, for I had years before heard of -this same Dolly Makin. ‘Nay, that’s mair ’an Ah can tell ya,’ said -she. ‘And what did she do to your aunt?’ I inquired. ‘Nothing; she -only tried to. It was like this. There was one Tom Pickles wanted to -keep company with my aunt, but he found out that she had a liking -for one William Purkis. It was always thought, when Tommy found this -out, that he went to the witch and gave her something to work a spell -on my aunt. Anyhow, one night when she had just finished milking, a -fortune-teller came up and took hold of her hand, and told her a long -story about the carryings-on of William Purkis and another lass, and -she advised my aunt to take up with Tommy, telling her that things -looked very black for her if she did anything else. But my aunt said -that she would wed who she liked, and it would not be Tommy. At that -the fortune-teller struck the cow with her stick; the cow lashed out -and knocked the milk-pail over; my aunt flung the milk-stool at the -fortune-teller’s head, but she ducked, and it missed her, and next -moment they were one grappling with the other like all that. My aunt, -however, was a well-built, strong lass, and after they had fought for -a long time, neither gaining an advantage, the fortune-teller screamed -out that my aunt had something about her that belonged to the unburied -dead, or otherwise she would have mastered her, and had her in her -power for ever. “But,” said she, as she walked away, “I have not done -with you yet;” and then my aunt saw it was the old witch. My aunt did -not know what the witch meant by saying she had something about her -that belonged to the unburied dead; but news came next morning that her -uncle had died the day before, and it happened that a brooch she was -wearing had a bit of his hair in it. It was that which had saved her. -It would have been useless trying to overtake the witch when she left -her, even on horseback, for she once went from the top of Ingleborough -to the top of Whernside at one stride.’ ‘But,’ I ventured to say, ‘it -is a long way, that.’ I was not quite sure of the distance, but I knew -I was within bounds when I added, ‘It will be quite nine miles.’ For a -moment the old lady hesitated; even to her, after making all allowance -for the witch’s marvellous power, it did seem a prodigious stride. -‘Well,’ she said, with a sigh of relief, as an idea struck her, ‘maybe -I am wrong; it would be a leap;’ or, as she put it, ‘mebbe Ah’s wrang; -sha wad loup it.’ Again I pointed out that it was an enormous leap. -‘Deean’t ya want her ti ’a’e deean’t?’ (i.e. ‘Don’t you want her to -have done it?’) she questioned, losing her temper. And then I had to -smooth her ruffled feelings. I knew I was precious near treading on -her pet corn, but I wished to see how, as I knew, she would explain -away the difficulty. ‘Whya, noo, ez you saay it’s a gertish loup,’ she -admitted, and then added, ‘maist leykly sha wad deea ’t iv a hitch, -strhad, an’ a jump; onny road, sha did it.’ That being settled, I asked -what took place when she herself saw the witch. ‘Nowt, bud summat might -‘ deean.’ And then she explained that one evening, a few months before -she was married, she and her sweetheart were walking to Feetham Holme -when they saw an old lady sitting on a great stone. It seems she looked -_that sackless_, that her sweetheart burst out laughing. The moment he -did that, the old lady sprang to her feet, and almost shrieked, ‘Ya -aren’t wed yet,’ and then disappeared. A moment afterwards, however, -a black cat sprang across their path, which was a most unlucky omen. -My informant could not say what it was, but something told her that -the black cat was none other than the old witch. She mentioned none of -her fears to her future husband, but the next day she paid a visit to -the wise man of Reeth. To him she unburdened herself of all her fears, -inquiring what would have to be done to break any spell Dolly might -work to prevent her marriage. It seems there were only two things the -wise man knew of equal to the occasion. One was to tear a piece of -cloth from the garment of a man hanging from a gibbet, cut it into nine -pieces, and burn them at dead of night, with every door and window not -only closed but securely fastened. This she had declared to be quite -impossible. Her next chance was to hear the last words of a man just -before he was hanged, write the same on nine pieces of paper, stick -a pin through each piece, and then burn them at midnight, doors and -windows as before. This she thought might be managed. From a copy of -the _Yorkshire Gazette_ which came into the dale every week, she learnt -that a man was to be hanged at York; so to Settle she went, and thence -by the carrier to her destination. She had a cousin living in York, -with whom she stayed until after the eventful day. She managed to hear -the last words, and carried out all other injunctions, and so, as -she said, ‘Dolly nivver c’u’d deea nowt nowther ti me ner onny o’ my -bairns.’ - -It is a well-known fact that witches have a decided aversion to a -stone with a hole through it. So one hanging in the house goes a long -way towards keeping them outside; and an old horse-shoe, which has -been picked up and nailed on the door, has even greater power. Again, -any girl, whilst a maiden, who was so fortunate as to find three -horse-shoes in one year, if she threw them over her left shoulder, and -walked round them three times, being careful to preserve all three, not -only she, but when married her children, could never be witch-held. -This, be it observed, only protected the person, it did not extend to -property of any kind. - -Dolly Ayre, the Carthorpe witch, died within the ken of many now -living. Richard Kirby, an old inhabitant of Carthorpe, gave me the -following only a short time ago. I must really give it in his words. -Filling his pipe, he began, ‘Aye! Ah ken’d her weel; she yance witched -sum coos ov au’d Tommy’s, an’ sha wadn’t tak ’t off.’ I inquired -what it was she would not take off, and was promptly informed it was -‘summat sha’d deean tiv ’em: a spell o’ sum soart ’at sha’d warked on -’em.’ Old Tommy, it seems, hurried off to the wise man, Sammy Banks o’ -Mickly, who, after Tommy’s story had been told, ‘did summat, an’ Tommy -did summat, an’ atween ’em tha baith did summat else ’at completely -flustrated Au’d Dolly intiv a cocked hat, bud nut afoor sha’d mannished -ti spell t’ leyfe oot o’ yan o’ t’ coos—ya see, iv a waay, sha ’ed t’ -fost ho’d.’ On asking what they had done to master Dolly, he replied, -with a shake of his head, ‘Naay, noo, Ah deean’t knaw; that war kept a -dark secret. All ’at ivver war knawn, war ’at Tommy ’ed driven a peg -o’ wickenwood inti summat, an’ ‘at he’d thrussen summat thruff t’ au’d -witch’s latch slit, but what it war no man nivver knew, bud it mun ’a’e -been summat varra larl, or else he c’u’dn’t ’a’e thrussen ’t thruff, -an’ he bo’nt’ (burnt) ‘summat at midneet ’at stank warse ’an nowt. Aye! -an’ noo ther war yance a queer thing happen’d at Ness, near Pickhill.’ -A man, it seems, took a farm over the head of the then tenant. The man -who had been so shabbily treated had once done a great kindness to -Dolly, though, according to my informant, it was a most risky thing -to offer a kindness to a witch, as they might take offence even at -that. However, in the case mentioned, the kindness had been graciously -accepted. When the new-comers arrived with their goods and chattels, -they found written in blood-red writing on every door and shutter, -these words, BAD LUCK; there was also something written underneath, -which no man could make out. ‘Aye,’ said the old man, in words which -there was no gainsaying, ‘an’ afoor they’d gitten hauf ther sticks in, -doon cam a lahtle bit ov a shelf they’d putten sum pans on, an’ it -tumm’l’d reet on t’ top o’ yan o’ ther bairns, an’ killed it wheer it -stood, an’ ther’s neea gitting ower that; noo, is theer?’ - -In this same Carthorpe, years ago, one of the houses was suspected of -being witch-held, and everything about the place witch-stricken, and -for some time neither land nor beast throve. It happened that one who -possessed the power of smelling witches slept for a night under this -particular roof. In the morning he said they were quite mistaken in -supposing the house was witch-held, declaring that it was haunted. He -advised them to prevail upon the parson to shout it down. The then -Rector of Burneston, having been seen, kindly undertook the shouting -down of the said spirit. To this end he partook of a good meal, rested -for an hour, and then betook himself to the farmer’s well. There he -read something out of the Prayer Book, which ‘incanted t’ spirit up ti -t’ wellsahd,’ and then the parson called out, ‘For ever and for ay,’ -to which the spirit replied, ‘For a year and a day.’ Then the parson at -it again, and the spirit did the same, ‘and they baith went at it leyke -all that foor ower tweea hoors, bud t’ parson gat t’ last wo’d acoz t’ -spirit c’u’dn’t ho’d oot neea langer, an’ seea t’ parson wan t’ battle -i’ t’ end, an’ cungled it doon; an’ seea that spirit nivver na mair, at -noa tahm, ivver agaan c’u’d cum oot o’ t’ bad pleeace ti wark ill agaan -neeabody[30].’ - -For some unexplained reason, witches held in great aversion posthumous -children, more especially male children. In fact their malevolence -was often made manifest prior to the child’s birth. An old dame gave -me the following as having occurred years ago at Kirby Hill, near -Boroughbridge. A young couple, recently married, met the witch (Sally -Carey) near the Devil’s Arrows. What they had done to gain Sally’s -displeasure, legend does not say, but as they passed the old lady she -shook her stick, and almost screamed, ‘Ya want a lad, bud Ah’ll mak it -a lass’; and sure enough, when the baby arrived, it was a girl. They -had hoped it would be a boy, for much future fortune depended upon -their having a son and heir. Still they hoped, should they be blest -with a further addition, that the next arrival would be a boy. Three or -four months after the birth of their daughter, the husband was thrown -off his horse and killed. - -Some time after the sad event, and late in the evening, Sally knocked -at the widow’s door; on its being opened, the old hag screamed, -brandishing her stick in the widow’s face, ‘It shan’t be a lad this -tahm, nowther.’ So terrified was her victim that she fainted, and -was found some time afterwards in a doubled-up position and unable to -rise. By-and-by, when sufficiently recovered, her friends strongly -urged her to pay a visit to the wise man of Aldborough. At last she was -prevailed upon to do so, when a supreme effort on his part was made to -break the witch’s power. Much of what the wise man did, the old lady -had forgotten. All she remembered was that at midnight, with closed -doors and windows, a black cat and a black cock bird were roasted -to a cinder, on a fire made from boughs of the rowan-tree; a long -incantation was also pronounced, of which she could not call to mind a -single word, for as she put it, ‘wa war all ti freetened.’ The ’all’ -consisted of the widow, my informant—then a maiden—and a mother of -seven sons, the trio being necessary for the working of the charm. When -the baby was born, it was a boy, but a cripple. Once again the wise -man was visited. This time the almost heart-broken mother was assured -that, if she remained unwedded for seven years, her son would outlive -his weakness, his back would grow straight, and all would be well. This -demand was readily complied with. ‘But,’ added the old dame, ‘t’ au’d -witch tried all maks an’ manders o’ waays ti git her ti wed. Ah nivver -knaw’d a lass seea pesthered wi’ chaps iv all mah leyfe. Sha’ (the -witch) ‘war awlus sending some good leyke leeaking chap for ti ’tice -her, bud sha kept single, and bested t’ au’d witch i’ t’ end, fer t’ -bairn grew up ti be ez straight an’ strang a chap ez yan need wish ti -clap yan’s e’es on. Ah mahnd him weel, an’ ther’s nowt aboot that.’ - -Only the other day I met an old fellow who firmly believed not only -in the power of witches, but that they existed at the present day. -He held that the evil eye accounted for many mishaps, which ‘fooak -c’u’dn’t account for nooadays neea road at all.’ Of witches he had -known several, but of fairies he could only speak from hearsay. ‘Nobbut -sum fooak,’ explained he, ‘war yabble ti see t’ fairies’; he had never -possessed that power; but he continued, ‘Ah’ve knawn fooak ’at ’ez -seean ’em monny a tahm, bud that’s years sen noo.’ He had come to the -conclusion that as people had got so into the way of saying there were -no such things, ‘tha ’ed all ta’en t’ hig, an’ takken thersens fo’ther -up t’ dale; bud tha cum back sumtahms ti t’ au’d spots, acoz yan offens -sees t’ rings wheear tha’ve danced owerneet. Onnybody can see t’ rings -fer thersens if tha nobbut tak ther een aboot wiv ’em; bud,’ said he, -emphatically, ‘Ah think ’at tha mun awlus keep ther heead-gear on noo.’ -I was given to understand that so long as a fairy kept its cap or -bonnet on it was invisible, but this, I think, is a bit of lore gone -wrong; he ought to have said, so long as they keep their invisible caps -on, &c. This old chap gave me a bit of lore which was quite new to me. - -We all know that witches kept a black cat, and as a rule it was a -Thomas cat; but if, to work something especially evil, a witch took to -keeping a black tabby, she was, by some higher power, compelled to keep -that tabby until it had kittens. When this interesting event was about -to come off, the said tabby was securely locked up and guarded until -the expected increase arrived; immediately this happened, the whole -lot were drowned. The reason for this hurried departure of mother cat -and kitten babies from the land of the living was made quite clear. -For had the witch a son when the kittens were born, and any person -managed to steal one of the said kittens, the witch from that moment -became a ’bustard,’ being bereft of all power to work evil; but if up -to that time she had only given birth to girls, she remained a bustard -only until a son was born; then all power was restored to her. My -informant remembers a witch who was made a bustard of, and who never -again regained power to work evil, being too old at the time to dream -of having a son. - -Perhaps the most widely adopted anti-witch charm was that of sticking -a beast’s heart full of pins and roasting the same at midnight, being -careful to observe the rule of closed doors and windows, absolute -silence, and the refusal to admit any one during the performance of the -rite; this, however, will be referred to by-and-by. - -I think it must be put on record that witches sometimes did good even -if they committed evil to bring it about. To do this, I shall have to -step just over the boundary of the North into the West Riding. There -was a widow residing in the village of Aldfield, whose son, her only -support, lay at death’s door: he, so I was informed, was afflicted with -a disease which was consuming his vitals. After the matter had been -fully discussed by the neighbours, the consuming of his vitals was -pronounced to be the result of a bad wish, the evil eye, or a witch -spell, and, according to their verdict, one Nanny Appleby was suspected -of being the spell-worker. Nanny lived somewhere on the other side -of Dalla Moor. This must have been before the days of the wise man of -Mickley, or assuredly thither the widow would have gone. It seems that -the poor mother screwed up courage to seek Nanny out herself, hoping to -appease her—an almost hopeless task. Anyway, early one morning off she -set; fortunately she met the old witch before she had completed half -her journey. - -On being questioned, Nanny swore she was innocent, but declared she -knew what ailed the lad, and offered to go back with her and cure him. -In much fear and trembling, the widow returned with Nanny, to the -astonishment of the whole village. After having been left alone with -the young fellow for some little time, Nanny told the weeping mother -that her lad was possessed of a devil, which she promised to drive out. -By what means she managed to induce the devil to let go his hold ’of -the vitals’ is not known; but a terrific fight took place, furniture -was smashed and pots were broken, amidst yells Satanic, and Nanny came -off victorious. Having got the devil out of the young fellow, the next -thing was, what must be done with the little imp? Nanny, however, seems -to have been equal to the occasion. Of course such a doubtful customer -could not be allowed to roam about at his own sweet will; oh dear no, -Nanny would not grant a favour of that kind. The spirit was commanded -to enter the body of a certain Tom Moss. Probably she had a spite -against Tom; anyway the order seems to have been most promptly obeyed, -for within a month Tom was found drowned in Grantley Lake. The invalid -recovered, and so there is no doubt about anything. - -The following witch story unfortunately is wanting in one or two points -of interest. I am unable to give the witch’s name, or with certainty -her dwelling-place. One or two things, however, tend to the belief that -she was the Ayton witch, who flourished about 1750-80. If in this I am -correct, she was known as Au’d Nanny; and though a native of Stokesley, -she lived for many years in a tumble-down old cottage in the far corner -of the green near the mill at Great Ayton. - -Though doubtless a terror in her day, nearly all her deeds, like -herself, have passed away. Two or three stories are yet told concerning -Au’d Nanny, but they are unauthenticated and of doubtful origin. They -seem to me most like latter-day ghost stories told to terrify children, -with Nanny’s name tacked on to them. They preserve her memory and -christian name, and that is all. - -One story, however, I had from an old lady whose grandmother once had -an encounter with Au’d Nanny. As the story was told to me in that -matter-of-fact way which leaves small room for imagination to exploit -itself, I have no doubt it was repeated, for my benefit, as her mother -or grandmother had told it her years before. The main interest of the -story lies in the fact that it contains a witch’s curse, and sets forth -the proposition that a witch had the power not only of assuming the -form of one recently dead, but could even inhabit the body itself. - -To divest the story of much repetition and redundancy, it will be -better to keep mainly to ordinary English. - -It seems that her grandmother lived at Stokesley, and had a cousin -living at Kildale, to whom she was deeply attached. This cousin’s name -was Martha Sokeld. One day Martha was taken very ill, and sent for -her cousin Mary Langstaff to come at once and nurse her. Mary sent -word back she would be along directly; so after she had cleaned up and -‘putten things ti reets,’ she put on her hood and shawl and set off to -walk to Kildale—‘an’ it’s a goodish step an’ all, Ah can tell ya; an’ -ther’s nowt aboot that.’ Well, when Mary had walked above halfway, she -saw an old woman ’hoppling alang t’ road.’ It seems there was something -about the old lady which struck Mary as curious—‘sha didn’t leyke t’ -leeak on her.’ What it was which made her feel certain the old body -approaching was none other than ’t’ au’d witch[31],’ she never could -tell, but such became her conviction. So, to avoid the necessity of -speaking to her, she stooped down and commenced to cull flowers from -the hedge side. But on the old witch drawing near, she called out in a -creaking voice, ‘Thoo’s neea call ti hing thi heead doon i’ that waay. -Ah ken tha, Mary Langstaff, reet weel; aye, ez weel ez if thoo ow’d ma -summat. Noo, ’t wadn’t ’a’e cossen[32] tha mich ti ’a’e passed t’ tahm -o’ daay wi’ ma; bud sitha, Ah s‘an’t forgit ti-daay, an’ Ah knaw all -’at thoo off’ns sez aboot ma an’ all; but Ah’ll paay tha oot for ’t, -Ah’ll paay tha oot for ’t.’ She then banged the ground three times with -her stick, and when my informant’s grandmother looked up, the witch had -disappeared. The reason why the witch did not do her an injury at that -time was easily accounted for—she happened to be wearing in her bosom a -bunch of wicken-tree, i.e. mountain ash, berries. - -On arriving at her cousin’s, she found her almost recovered. She stayed -with her a few days and then returned to Stokesley—this was on a Monday -afternoon. Much to her surprise, who should walk in on Wednesday -evening but Martha Sokeld. Martha told her she had had another bad -bout, and felt she was not going to last long, but before she died she -would like to see her sister who lived at Northallerton. She had got a -ride so far on the way that afternoon, and then, after a night’s rest, -she thought she would be able to go by the carrier to Northallerton. -Just then she felt very tired, and thought if Mary would go over to -Hannah’s and get her to put some things together which she wished to -send to her sister, she could manage to get a nap lying on the settle. -She was most pressing that Mary should not hurry back, but stop a good -hour, giving as an excuse—she did not wish to be ‘wakken’d efter sha -’ed yance gitten ti sleep.’ Mary went to Hannah’s, but there was a -something that made her feel very uneasy—she did not know what it was; -‘an’ i’ t’ end it gat sike a grip on her, ‘at sha left an’ set off yam -agaan.’ So that she should not awaken her cousin if she had fallen -asleep, she approached the house very quietly; and peeping between the -shutters (they did not fit very closely), she beheld a sight which -made her ’oppen wide baith e’es’—her cousin, instead of being asleep, -was sitting in front of a blazing fire, dropping things into a pan ‘an’ -saying ower an’ up agaain’— - - - Fire cum, - Fire gan, - Curling smeeak - Keep oot o’ t’ pan. - Here’s a teead, theer’s a frog, - An’ t’ heart frev a crimson ask; - Here’s a teeath fra t’ heead - O’ yan at’s deead, - ‘At nivver gat thruff his task[33]; - Here’s pricked i’ blood a maiden’s prayer - ‘At t’ e’e o’ man maunt see; - It’s pricked reet thruff a yet warm mask, - Lapt aboot a breet green ask, - An’ it’s all foor him an’ thee. - It boils, thoo’ll drink, - He’ll speeak, tho’ll think, - It boils, thoo’ll see, - He’ll speeak, thoo’ll dee. - - -Something seemed to say to Mary, ‘Sha’s working a curse on thee an’ -Tom’ (Tom was her sweetheart). ‘Thoo mun deea summat, or sha’ll mak -mischief atween ya.’ So Mary opened the door and walked boldly in. She -then told the witch—for by this time she had no doubt her visitor was -such—that she had heard all she had said, and seen all she had done. -She then took hold of the Bible, and said, ‘Ya mun deea yer warst; Ah -ho’d byv this,’ meaning the Bible. No sooner had she said that she -had heard and seen all, and declared that she held by the Bible, and -dared her to do her worst, than the witch turned the pan wrong side -up on the fire, and shrieking out, ‘Thoo’s ’scaped ma this tahm, bud -Ah’ll mell on tha yet,’ disappeared. Early next morning a man rode -over from Kildale, with the news that Martha Sokeld was nowhere to be -found, and it was not until three days afterwards that her dead body -was discovered on the moor head. The conclusion come to at that time -(and which my informant thought most probable) was that the witch had -lured Martha on to the moor and then spelled the soul out of her, -taking possession of the body herself, and so deceived her grandmother. -However, her grandmother lived until she was eighty-five, having -brought up a large family; and so, as the old lady put it, ‘Efter that -t’ au’d witch ’ed nivver been yabble ti deea owt tiv her; sha aiblins -off’ns aim’d ti deea, bud it seeams ’at it nivver cam tiv a heead.’ - -The following further information regarding Molly Cass, the Leeming -witch, of whom mention has been made, was given to me by Abe -Braithwaite, a noted character of Bedale twenty-five years ago. Molly, -although a native of Exelby, lived for many years in a cottage close -to Leeming Mill: some declare in a disused part of the mill itself. -Be that as it may, one night whilst the miller, two others, and Abe’s -grandfather were playing cards in the mill, George Winterfield (one -of the players) had the nine of hearts dealt to him eight times in -succession. As the ninth deal was proceeding, one of the players laid -a guinea on the table, offering to wager Winterfield that amount to a -shilling, that the nine of hearts did not fall to his hand that deal. -‘Put thi brass i’ thi pocket,’ said Au’d Molly, popping her head just -inside the door; ‘thi brass is nut foor him, an’ his brass is nut -foor thee. Put thi brass i’ thi pocket, an’ leeak sharp aboot it.’ So -terrified was the owner of the guinea of gaining the ill-will of Molly, -that he pocketed his guinea at once. When the last card of the deal -fell, and whilst the cards still lay on the table, Molly said, ‘Thoo’s -gitten ’t again, George; tak thi han’ up and see,’ and such turned out -to be the case. ‘Aye, thoo’s gitten it hard eneeaf, an’ thoo’s had it -eight times alriddy; t’ au’d un’s[34] i’ tha noo, an’ he’ll nut leeav -tha whahl he’s gitten tha altogither. Thoo hed thi chance, an’ thoo -wadn’t tak’t, seea Ah’ve potched it inti t’ Swale’ (the name of the -river hard by), ‘an’ thoo’ll ’a’e ti gan theer ti late it. T’ Swale’s -waiting ti be thi brahdal bed. Thoo’d better gan noo; think on t’ -langer thoo waits, an’ t’ langer thoo’ll stay[35].’ On hearing this, -George, turning as white as chalk, arose, saying, ‘Ah’ll wed her; Ah’ll -mak an honest woman on her, if thoo’ll nobbut gi’e ma anuther chance; -Ah’ve rewd all ’at Ah’ve deean.’ To which Molly replied, ‘Ah’s nut -off’ns i’ t’ mahnd o’ gi’ing onnybody yah chance, let aleean tweea; -thoo sez ’at thoo’ll tak her ti thi bed, Ah’ve sed ’at thoo s’all gan -tiv hers. Noo, then, gan thi waays; thi brahd’s waiting foor tha, sha’s -ligging asleep on a bed o’ bulls an’ segs. Oh, what a brahdal bed! Oh, -what a brahdal bed!’ she screamed, banging to the door. - -Winterfield left the company, saying he would go at once to his old -sweetheart and promise to marry her. The night was intensely dark, and -whether he missed his way and slipped into the beck, which was much -swollen at the time, and his body drifted into the Swale, or whether -it was as Molly shouted to him as he left, ‘Good-neet, George, all -roads leead ti t’ Swale ti-neet,’ it is impossible to say. One thing, -however, is certain—though he joined his old sweetheart, he never saw -her again. It was as a corpse the current carried him along, and left -his body late that night by the side of her, who, only a few hours -before, in a fit of desperation and despair, had confided to the -silent waters the whole of her sin and shame. Both bodies were found -quite close together, tightly held by the ‘bulls and segs,’ in the -backwater where the beck joins the Swale. I well remember, when fishing -near the spot late in the evening for eels, an old lady remarking on -what she considered my temerity, for she fully believed that any one -who ventured near at midnight would see the dead body of a girl, and -presently that of a man, float by, both being quite visible until they -joined each other in the high seaves and bulrushes. - - - - - CHAPTER X - - WITCHCRAFT—_continued_ - - -So far as we have gone, it will be evident to those who read a -little between the lines, that mixed up with fact, imagination, and -exaggeration, there exists a very considerable amount of respectable -myth. But to which of the ancient myths we owe many of the stories -told in connexion with our local witches, is often somewhat difficult -to determine; but certain it is that nearly all of them possessed the -power, so common to those of an earlier date, of changing themselves -into some animal, the hare and cat being the favourite forms which -they assumed when hard pressed. Very similar stories exhibiting -this power are told of the following well-known local witches, all -of whom flourished during the present century:— Peggy Flaunders, of -Marske-by-the-Sea; Bessy Slack, of West Burton, Wensleydale; Nanny -Pearson, of Goathland; the Guisborough witch, Ann Grear; Nan Hardwicke, -of Spittal Houses; Au’d Nanny, of Great Ayton; Nanny Howe, of Kildale; -and Nanny Newgill, of Broughton and Stokesley. Then there was Dolly -Makin and Au’d Mother Stebbins, who seem to have had no regular place -of abode, but tramped the country with a few small wares. - -Of these and others, pretty much the same stories are told, differing -only in slight details. These also bear a very strong resemblance to -others current in different parts of Europe, but of much earlier times. -Then, too, we have their malicious attacks on the dairy, either in -the form of spoiling or purloining the produce, or in surreptitiously -milking the cows, though the latter was more prevalent further north, -and often practised by the German witches. But in the exercise of the -evil eye, and in the committal of all manner of evil acts, our North -Riding witches held a position second to none. - -Again, the methods used to overcome their power and break their spells, -as has been said, runs very much on the same lines throughout Europe. - -Peggy Flaunders died in 1835, at the age of eighty-five, and was buried -in the churchyard at Marske-by-the-Sea. - -Many old people have a lively remembrance of Peggy, with her tall hat -and red cloak; and the stories which are told to-day of the pranks -she played and the wonders she worked, make us open our eyes with -amazement, because we are not listening to the marvellous deeds of -some person who lived in mediaeval times, but of one who lived amongst -those now living. Do you wish to hear of her doings from one who knew -her? then find your way to Boyes Wetherell’s cottage, and have a chat -with the old worthy, and you will have such an outpouring of ancient -customs, rites, lore, smuggling stories, and the doings of days gone -by, together with touches of his own eventful life, as will stock your -mind with information such as it is only possible to obtain from an -original source[36]. - -But of Peggy and her doings. - -On one occasion Peggy is said to have cast a spell against one Tom -Pearson (who lived on a farm near Marske), and every head of cattle -he possessed died. Whether this ruined him or not, is not known, but -he left the farm, and his cousin took it. As this cousin crossed the -threshold for the first time, Peggy passed by. (This cousin, it seems, -had once befriended Peggy.) She called out to him as she passed, ‘Thoo -’ez mah good wishes,’ and with that she turned three times round, threw -her cloak on the ground, jumped over it, mumbled something, and walked -away, and from that day everything prospered ’awlus wiv him.’ - -For three weeks in succession, Hannah Rothwell’s butter didn’t come -rightly, churn as long as she might; and at the same time Mary Parker, -her next-door neighbour, began to get very little milk from her cow. -These two old worthies having talked the matter over, decided they -would pay a visit to Jonathan Westcott of Upleatham, a wise man of that -day[37]. Jonathan, on hearing what they had to say, declared it was -all owing to Peggy’s malice. So far as Mrs. Rothwell was concerned, -she was told to return home, scald her churn out three times, first -with boiling water, in which a handful of salt had been dissolved; -secondly, with boiling water in which a handful of wicken-tree berries -had been thrown; and, thirdly, with a large amount of plain boiling -water. She had also to get two small wickenwood pegs and drive them -into each end of the churn, and whilst turning the churn with the last -filling of water, she had to repeat, as she pretended to look if the -butter was coming,— - - This tahm it’s thahn, - T’ next tahm it’s mahn, - An’ mahn foor ivver mair. - -This had to be repeated nine times, giving nine turns before repeating -the lines, when the churn would be found to be all right. At least -it would be quite clean, and that is needful for the making of good -butter. The milk case was a much more difficult one to tackle. However, -after Jonathan had consulted his almanack, and seen what direction and -position the heavenly bodies were in—he was great on the planetary -world—he advised the following: first, a good drench[38] must be -given the cow, followed by gentle exercise; secondly, it was not to -be milked to its full yield for nine days, but on the tenth, before -seating herself to milk, Mary had to whisper in the cow’s ear, ‘Ah’s -milking tha foor Peggy Flaunders.’ The cow would then yield its proper -quantity. This pious fraud of deliberately whispering tarradiddles into -the cow’s ear had to be continued indefinitely. On the other hand, if -after having so whispered Mary drew no more milk than usual, Jonathan -declared Peggy had nothing to do with the case, that she would be free -from all suspicion of milking the cow at home by magic art, and that -it was nothing ’neea warse ’an that t’ au’d coo war a larl bit oot o’ -fettle, an’ wad mebbins cum roond iv a bit; if nut, sha mud git shut -on’t sumhoo.’ - -On one occasion some sportsmen, coursing in the old close field at -the top end of Marske, put up a hare, which was recognized as one the -dogs had often tried unsuccessfully to capture. Peggy’s son was one -of the company. The lad, it seems, had heard his mother say no hare -could escape their black bitch, but he was to be very careful not to -mention the fact, and never to slip it at one without her consent. In -the excitement the lad disregarded his mother’s commands, and repeated -what she had said. The black bitch was slipped, and, after an exciting -chase, seized the hare by the haunch just as it was trying to enter -Peggy’s worral hole[39]. On Peggy being examined, teeth-marks were -found on a corresponding part of her body. - -The Guisborough witch, Jane Grear, was perhaps more widely known than -Peggy. She, like Peggy, was bitten by a dog, and bore the marks until -the day of her death. She received her injuries when trying to jump -through her own key-hole: it must have been either a very small hare -she had turned herself into, or she must have owned an abnormally -large key-hole; but this is a matter of detail. Whatever Jane may have -been like in the decline of her life, in her youthful days she must -have been quite a good-looking girl. There are two old rhymes still -remembered, one of which tells of her various charms, perhaps a little -too freely. So much into detail does it go, that only a few lines can -possibly be given. The second recounts a mighty hunt which once took -place. - - * * * * * - - Plump ez a suker[40] war Jinny when young, - Wi’ t’ waast an’ t’ bust[41] ov a queen; - T’ gallants an’ t’ bucks did all on ’em sweear - Sha beeat owt ’at ivver tha’d seen. - Her hair it war black ez an au’d raven wing, - An’ breet war t’ glint ov her een; - Neea kerchief hauf hid sike an _ivory breast_[41], - Whahl her throat wad ’a’e deean foor a queen; - An’ larl war her feet, an’ trim war her waast, - An’ reead ez a roaze war her lips, - Whahl her cheeks egg’d yan on for ti steeal a sly kiss, - An’ shaply an’ roond war her hips. - - * * * * * - - An’ when, tripping ti music, sha pulled up her goon, - Tweea feet war nivver mair nim (nimble); - Her ankles an’ buckles fair ’wildered yan’s seet, - An’ seea, mun, did t’ shap ov each limb. - Bud noo ’at Ah’s au’d, Ah finnd ’at sha’s t’ seeam. - Her charms ’ev all swithered awaay; - Sha ’s ugly ez muck, wi’ black blood iv her heart. - Au’d Scrat’s[42] bowt her sowl, seea tha saay. - - * * * * * - -It would seem that Jane, like Peggy, occasionally afforded sportsmen -a good run; at least, so the following would lead us to believe. -But here, again, much has had to be suppressed, being unfit for -publication. The lines, however, which are given are valuable, showing -as they do that several old customs were quite common at the time—about -1820, I should imagine. - - - * * * * * - - Fra t’ Applegarth, ti Slapewath slack, - Wi’oot a rist i’ seet all t’ waay, - Sha (the hare) teeak uz roond byv t’ alum warks - Ti Aisdale gaate, an’ gat awaay. - - * * * * * - - Wa knocked at Tom’s, bud he warn’t up; - Bud then, it’s t’ seeam wiv all. Besahd, - Yan may loup up ti cauv a coo, - Bud finnd t’ bed pull ti leeave a brahd. - - * * * * * - - Wa drank ther healths at Jack’s belaw, - Wa wished em weel, an’ soup’d wer beer, - All hoaping when tha did git up - Tha wad tigither loup on t’ fleear[43]. - - * * * * * - - Jack leeaked bit dazed, an’ hauf asleep; - Bud then, he’s a fair Tyke wi’ t’ lasses. - He cuddles, kisses, drinks wiv all; - Neea hot pot ivver by him passes. - - * * * * * - - T’ race he’d won, an’ t’ brahd he’d kissed, - On t’ thresho’d knelt, her garter gitten, - Fra snowy breasts ther kerchiefs stown, - Then wi’ ther budding charms war smitten. - - * * * * * - -Again they put up the hare, and the old dog gave chase. - - Fra Scaling dyke ti Wapley end, - Thruff Tommy[44] geese an’ Mary[44] stee, - Alang t’ au’d to’npike, here then theer - That witched hare alang did flee. - Neea cleeaser did wa ivver git, - Neea gerter leead it ivver teeak; - Ten yards i’ front o’ Billy bitch— - Fra t’ fost it seeam’d a narrer squeeak. - At last ’mang heather, brackken, whin, - Lang stanghow bru’, wi’ hosses blawn, - An’ Billy bitch wi’ tongue loll’d oot, - Fair beeaten it war fain ti awn. - Just when, wi’ yah gert loup, t’ bitch thowt - Ti grab t’ hare haunch, t’ poor spent au’d bitch - Fan nowt ti snap at; t’ hare ’ed geean. - An’ then wa kenn’d wa’d hunted t’ witch[45]. - -I know a very similar set of verses exist, telling of a wonderful run -after a hare in connexion with Bilsdale and that district. But the -language, in fact the whole tone of the rhyme, is much too loose for -the publication of any part of it. - -A word here explaining what is meant by witches milking cows may not be -out of place. It has been mentioned that Peggy Flaunders was thought to -have drawn the milk from one Mary Parker’s cow. How or by what means, -deponent sayeth not, but one Ann Allan, of Ugthorpe, who kept pigs, was -almost caught in the act. This was about 1780, and as Ann’s procedure -was run on much the same lines as the most respectable witches used -some hundreds of years before her time, we may take hers as a typical -example. - -Not one, but three or four Ugthorpe cows ceased to give their usual -quantity of milk. Of course the villagers talked, and at last the -priest was visited; but a hundred years ago many of the clergy, both -of Rome and the Church of England, so far as learning was concerned, -would have been knocked into a cocked hat by a Primitive Methodist -local brother of these days. So it will be readily conceived the visit -to the priest resulted in very little good. He declared the devil had -got hold of the defaulting cows by the tail, and this made them hold -their milk back; he further assured them the only way to get the devil -to let go was to say three pater nosters and Ave Marias over their -milk-pails, and to subscribe a certain sum, which had to be paid to -him, to celebrate a mass to Saint somebody, who would send a holy -angel to frighten the devil away. Now, I know nothing about doctoring -cows, but I am inclined to the belief that old Jonathan Westcott, -of Upleatham, was much nearer effecting a cure, when he ordered an -aperient draught, to be followed by gentle exercise, than prayers -muttered inside any number of milk-cans. - -I believe the good people of that day would have fallen in with the -prayers, but they drew a hard and fast line when the collection box -obtruded itself. They returned home dissatisfied. They were losing -their milk—that they could not help; but they could prevent their -pockets being dipped into, and they did. Another meeting was held, and -a watch was set on Ann, but nothing came of it. At last a neighbour’s -cow dried up altogether. At this the good man was so exasperated, that -he went to Ann’s and boldly accused her of milking the cows. Words -ran high, till in the end he seized a three-legged stool, intending -to hurl it at Ann’s head, when, lo! a curious thing happened—as -he gripped the leg of the stool, a stream of milk ran from it. The -neighbours, who by this time had flocked round the door, cried out -with one voice: ‘Thoo’s gitten ’t; that’s what sha milks wer coos -wi’.’ And sure enough such was found to be the case. On the name of -any neighbour’s cow being mentioned, and a leg of the stool handled as -in milking, a fine stream of milk came from it, and the bag of that -individual’s cow was found on examination to have shrunk. No wonder -she had fat pigs, when she could give them new milk in any quantity -and from any one’s cow she liked to name. Such a stool was not a fit -piece of furniture for any one to possess, so it was publicly burnt -on the moor just beyond the high end of the village, near to where -the windmill stands. Ann was ordered to walk three times from one end -of the village to the other, clothed in nothing but her sark[46], -i.e. chemise. The Godivan rule, which compelled every one to keep -within doors during the time of penance, seems (so far as Ugthorpe was -concerned) to have been absolutely reversed—they were all there, even -down to the babies in arms. From all accounts, Ugthorpe has never had -quite such a lively time since. Before judging the people and the ways -of that time as altogether too idiotic, indecent, and unjust, it is as -well to bear in mind that every age has its curious idiosyncrasies. In -1898 affiliation cases are heard in open court; a man may nearly kick -the life out of his wife with a pair of clogs at a small outlay of -about seven-and-six; but stealing a turnip necessitates a low form of -diet, and enforced seclusion for three months. These masterpieces of -our time will bring a smile to faces yet unborn. - -Nan Hardwicke’s fame at one time was great, and her name and deeds -still live in many of the Cleveland dales. I remember once being -driven to Westerdale by an old chap, who gave me the following story. -I think the circumstance occurred to his father, and not himself—on -this point my notes are silent, anyway. Either his mother or his wife -was expecting the advent of a new baby, and the expectant mother’s -sister had to be sent for, to some place about five miles distant. -That afternoon Nan Hardwicke called as she was passing (she must have -been some miles from home), and asked for ’a shive o’ breead an’ a pot -o’ beer,’ which were given her. Nan let them know she was aware of -all that was about to transpire. Finishing her food, she opened the -door of the room where the wife was lying, and poking her head inside, -said, ‘Ah wish ya weell; ya’ll ’ev a lad afoor morning, an’ ya’ll call -him Tommy, weean’t ya?’ ‘Whya, wa ’a’e made up wer mahnds ti call him -John,’ replied the wife. ‘Aye, mebbe, bud ya’d best call him Tommy; an’ -thanking ya, Ah’ll be saying good-daay ti ya.’ And with that she closed -the door and departed. The husband, on being made acquainted with the -witch’s request, declared that nothing of the sort should happen—John -they had decided to call the bairn, and John it should be—he dare not -run the risk of changing its name then. About six o’clock that evening -the husband put his horse in the gig, or whatever he had, and drove -away to bring back the sister-in-law. About three miles on the journey, -he had to cross a small bridge, but when within twenty or thirty yards -of it, the horse stopped, and could not be persuaded to move a step -further. The good man at last decided to get out and lead the mare -over, but in this he was wrong. Much to his amazement, he discovered he -could not leave his seat—he was ‘ez fast ez owt.’ Vainly did he strive, -but it was of no use. At last he came to the conclusion that a spell -was on them both, so he called out, ‘Noo, Nan, what’s ti eftther? this -is thi wark.’ Immediately he heard Nan commence to laugh, and then she -shouted, but he did not know where the voice came from, ‘Thoo’ll call -t’ bairn Tommy, weean’t ta?’ The husband was desperately bold for those -days, for he shouted, ‘Neea, Ah weean’t, nowther foor thoo na all t’ -Nan divils i’ t’ country.’ ‘Then thoo’ll bahd wheer thoo is, whahl t’ -bairn’s born an’ t’ muther dees,’ croaked Nan. This, in its way, was a -bit of a clincher, to sit stuck fast in a gig, neither able to proceed -nor get out, at a time too when all speed was necessary; add to this -a sinister threat of immediate death of the one he most loved, unless -he consented to christen an unborn child Tommy, when he had decided -to name it Johnny, and with a feeling at the bottom of his heart that -there was a margin for uncertainty, and that after all it might happen -to be a girl. Taking all these things into consideration, was it to be -wondered that he gave way, and swore the child, if a boy, should be -christened Tom? Having made this promise, he was allowed to proceed on -his way. - -But Nan did not always have her own way. She had a habit of hiding -herself amongst the whins and brackens, which grew in abundance near -her humble roof. The young men used to collect all the hounds together -and put them on the scent of Au’d Nan. According to legend, they had -many a good run, ‘bud tha nivver catch’d her.’ One other unrecorded -story of Nan[47]. - -Nan had a relation living at Lowna Bridge, to whom she occasionally -paid a visit. This relation, I believe, only looked forward with -pleasure to Nan’s departure. On this point, however, Nan seems to -have been pretty thick-skinned. It is a mystery how this journey was -accomplished. Some thought she turned herself into a hare and ran the -distance of twenty miles easily in that form; anyway, the fact remains -that now and again Au’d Nan turned up at Lowna Bridge. It may, _en -passant_, be mentioned that human nature was very much the same in the -early part of this century as it is to-day. I mean, poor relations -are never welcome; their presence, or anything which calls them to -mind, makes one feel we ought to do something which we had very much -rather not do—their presence digs the spur into one’s conscience, you -know! But to return to Nan and her Lowna relations. I believe the -following occurred on her last visit: she arrived just after the bridal -procession of the daughter of the house had returned from church. -By-and-by the question arose—where could Au’d Nan sleep? On this -particular occasion every bed had more than one claimant already. The -matter was solved by a kindly bridesmaid offering to take Nan home and -share her bed with her, and then bring her back when the guests had -departed. Unfortunately, the bride, not knowing that Nan was near, said -to her friend, ‘Relation though the old thing is, I would not sleep -with her for anything.’ At this Nan turned round and, before the whole -company, exclaimed, ‘Neea, bud thoo wad sleep wi’ him,’ pointing to the -bridegroom; and then she added, shaking her stick,— - - Ah’ve let tha be wedded, - Bud Ah’ll stop tha being bedded; - -and so saying, turned about and left the house. Good cheer and bonny -bridesmaids soon banished any gloom the old lady’s words for the moment -had cast over the party. - -Late that evening, after the bride had retired to rest, one of the -bridesmaids, sister of the bridegroom, whispered to him, that it would -be useless trying to join his bride by way of the stairs, as there -was a plot on foot to keep him with the revellers the night long—not -an uncommon thing in those days—it often needing all the scheming of -bride and bridesmaids, to outwit the well-laid plots of the bucks of -those gay old times. The plan which the bridesmaids had arranged for -the bridegroom’s escape, was that a game of blindman’s-buff should -be played, and on a given signal a maiden was to call out, ‘Kiss the -girl you love in the dark’; on this being said, every candle was to -be blown out, and the bridegroom had to seize the opportunity to -escape. A ladder had been placed underneath the bride’s window, and -although it was a little short, the bridesmaids had tied a long towel -to the window-sash, by which he could pull himself through the window. -Everything worked splendidly until he was just going to pull himself -up by the towel, when some half-intoxicated idiot discovered he was -escaping, and pulled the ladder from underneath him, bringing him to -the ground with an awful bang. The poor fellow, on being carried into -the house, was found to have broken his leg. The old lady was right -after all. It seems they did have their little excitements in the good -old days of yore—in these days it is a shower of rice[48] and an old -shoe. - -Wrightson, the wise man of Stokesley, although he died about seventy -years ago, has left such a record behind as few men in his position -ever build up to their credit[49]. He was known as the wise man of -Stokesley. He was the seventh son of a seventh daughter; and whether -such a concatenation of circumstances lift a man out of the ordinary -rut, I am not in a position to say. But judging Wrightson from the -lips of those who knew him—they are all about gone now—or from those -who have heard of him from their parents, one cannot but come to the -conclusion, that he was undoubtedly a man endowed with marvellous -psychic power, and with the smallest amount of charlatanry possible. -In fact, all agree in testifying to the fact that he claimed nothing -beyond the power which belonged to all such as are born under similar -circumstances; and that sort of thing was fully believed in then, and, -I might add, is yet, for the matter of that. - -In dealing with such a celebrity—for such he was, his fame extending -far beyond the boundary of the North Riding—one cannot be too -particular as to the source from whence information is obtained. -Fortunately, years ago, I knew an old Yorkshireman, already alluded -to—William Scorer, a native of Basedale, but who for some years kept -an inn at Fearby above Masham. During the time I knew him, he was the -landlord of the Fleece, Bedale. He personally knew Wrightson. - -Take the following as examples of the man’s marvellous power. A friend -of Scorer[50] had bought several head of cattle at Northallerton fair. -These had to be driven to Stokesley; to this end they were given in -charge of an old drover who was driving a lot to the same place for -another buyer. The drover, arriving late at night, put the two droves -into a field about a quarter of a mile on the other side of Stokesley, -but in the morning two of Scorer’s beasts were missing; the drover -declared they were all there when he gated them the night before. A -suspicion somehow arose that the old chap had sold them on the way, and -pocketed the money. At that time they were altogether without any proof -that he had done anything of the kind. - -The only way to discover if their surmises were correct, was to visit -Wrightson. But to put the wise man’s power to the test, they decided to -say it was a horse they had lost; arguing, if he really knew anything -that could help them, he would find out the trick which was being -played upon him. On entering his cottage, and before they could speak, -Wrightson shouted from the scullery, where he was washing himself, ‘Noo -then, if you chaps is sharp eneaaf, an’ ez that mich off’ (i.e. know -that much) ‘’at ya can manish ti to’n tweea coos intiv a hoss, it’s -neea ewse cumin’ ti me, foor Ah can’t to’n a hoss back inti tweea coos, -an’ seea ya’d better mak yersens scarce. Ah’ve nowt ti saay ti ya.’ -And for some time the wise man was past all persuasion. In the end he -shouted, without leaving the scullery, ‘Tha’re baith i’ t’ beck, an’ -tha’ve been theer sen yester neet.’ And sure enough both their bodies -were found a good mile below the bridge; evidently they had missed the -bridge when being driven over late the night before, and had both been -drowned in the Leven, which was much swollen by recent rain. Here, as -in many other stories told of the marvellous man, was an evidence of -foreknowledge; and many of them rest upon what must be admitted to be -very reliable testimony, and vouched for by most respectable people -of that time[51]. Now for the other story, which occurred some years -afterwards. - -One Nathan Agar, for security, hid a stocking-foot (in which he had -wrapped five golden guineas) under a portion of the thatch. One -day, intending to add another golden one to his store, he found the -stocking-foot, guineas and all, had vanished. Nathan said nothing -to any one, but just went straight to Wrightson. ‘Thoo’ll knaw what -Ah’ve cum’d aboot,’ said Nathan. Wrightson at once twitted the old -man, touching some previous conversation they had held as to the -advisability of Nathan, who was about sixty years of age, marrying a -girl not quite nineteen. But the combined wisdom and unhappy future -which had been foretold by Wrightson, had not been sufficient to -overcome the old fool’s idiotic passion for the buxom lass. In the end -he was told to go home, and when no one was in the house, he had to -lift up the flag in front of the doorstep, and place a certain leaf -of the Bible underneath, and carefully watch who stumbled over the -threshold as they entered. This, Nathan most carefully carried out. The -first who entered was their young lodger, and he stumbled; after awhile -in came the wife, and she stumbled. I don’t know if the flag tilted, -or whether the next person would have stumbled also, because Nathan -didn’t wait to test the result of a third entry, but hurried off to -Wrightson, to whom he made known the result. Wrightson told him that -his property was hidden in a certain part of a pig-sty, together with -an old watch, which up to that time Nathan had not missed. Other and -more serious charges were made, which for ever destroyed Nathan’s hope -of future happiness. Wrightson’s advice was that he should return home, -secure his watch, give them the five guineas, and send them about their -business. This was promptly carried out, and I believe is the quickest -and cheapest divorce proceeding on record. One other story has just -come into my mind, which, if true, proves to what a wonderful degree -he must have possessed a clairvoyant power. - -A lady residing in some part of South Durham was likely to die from a -lump in her throat—possibly a quinsy. Nothing that was done gave her -ease; at last some one suggested the wise man of Stokesley. A man on -horseback was dispatched—I believe the son of the lady. On approaching -Wrightson’s house, even before he got to the door, the wise man looked -out, saying, as the young man came up, ‘Bait thi hoss, git summat ti -eat, an’ git thisen back agaan; t’ bleb’s brussen; sha’s all reet now;’ -i.e. ‘Bait your horse, get some refreshment, and return home again; the -lump has burst; she is all right now.’ - -I have just had the following story given me by Old Willie Bradley of -Great Ayton. His father, who was a quarryman, had some tools stolen, -and, like every one else in those days, he went to Wrightson. ‘Noo, -then,’ said that worthy, on Willie’s father entering, ’thoo’s cum’d -aboot thi teeals, bud Ah can deea nowt fur tha, ez they’ve been hugg’d -accross watter; bud Ah can let tha see wheear tha’re liggin.’ Wrightson -then put him in front of a seeing-glass (looking-glass) in a darkened -room, and told him to keep looking at the glass, telling him if he -took his eyes off something awful would happen, but my informant -cannot remember what. Anyway, his father never was so terrified in -all his life, and wished he had never bothered about the lost tools. -In a little while, however, he saw them quite plainly, lying amongst -some bracken in a wood—the place he recognized quite easily. On -telling Wrightson what he had seen, he was cautioned not to touch -them. Wrightson said he must bring him a live magpie. This he tried to -obtain, but failed; he could not catch one, neither, for some reason, -would any boy who had one part with his pet; so, after a week, he -had to tell the wise man that the task was impossible. ‘Then,’ said -Wrightson, ‘Ah caan’t wark him onny harm, an’ thoo’ll ‘ ti loss the -teeals[52].’ - -Other stories of this man’s foreknowledge could be given almost ad lib. -Many of his methods suggested and adopted were of the heart-frizzling, -pin-sticking, wickenwood, and bottery-tree order. His rites and -ceremonies, too, occasionally savoured of the time in which he lived; -and, after all, there is not much to wonder at. - -We are most of us very much influenced by the environments of our -own day; and after seeing a few of my own sex in Town, I can forgive -Wrightson much. Like many another clever man, he played to suit his -audience, and sang the songs of the day. There was, if all is true, no -need that he should have done so, and possibly he knew it—who knows? - -Nanny Pearson was held in great fear by the good people of Goathland, -and that, too, a good way into the present century. As a witch of -the old school, Nanny’s fame was not confined to that locality. Many -stories are still told of her and her doings, two of which I will -give, as they afford a bit of new information, i.e. the power which -holy water had over witches. I believe in her younger days she was a -communicant of the Roman Catholic faith; be that as it may, she was -neither better nor worse than her sister witches of any other faith, or -no faith at all. It seems that a Mrs. Webster had a goose, which, as -was the custom of the time, was sitting on a cletch of eggs near the -fireside. Now, Nanny came daily to Mrs. Webster’s for milk, bringing an -empty jug, which she left, taking a full one away with her. The goose -was set one morning, and remained dutifully on her nest until evening; -but as Nanny approached the house, off flew the goose in a great state -of agitation, breaking two eggs, and could not be pacified until Nanny -was well off the premises. The same thing occurred each time Nanny came -for her milk, until some one, who was going to Scarborough, called upon -the wise man and asked his advice. He told them to get a little holy -water, put it in the jug with Nanny’s milk, and her power would be -broken—I suppose that meant her power over the goose, for she worked a -vast deal of ill after that. This was done; the jug with the holy water -and milk in due course was handed to Nanny, and just as she took hold -of it, the goose plucked up courage and flew at her, knocking it out of -her hand. It was broken in the fall, the contents splashing over her -feet and gown; with a shriek she fled, and from that day the goose was -never disturbed again. - -Years ago, the Squire of Goathland had a very beautiful daughter. -Some old chap with any amount of money, and quite ugly, wished to -wed her, and for some unknown reason the Squire favoured his suit; -but, as is often the case, the damsel had given her heart to a young -farmer in the neighbourhood. The elder lover got it into his head -the couple would elope, so he sought the aid of Nanny; and the old -hag helped him with a vengeance, inasmuch as she so sorely afflicted -the damsel that she could not rise from her bed, and her legs began -to die—I don’t quite know what that means; anyway, her limbs became -useless. Her father told her that one of the female saints was greatly -displeased with her obduracy, and would not restore power to her limbs -until she consented to marry the man of his choice. This she flatly -refused to do, choosing rather to die outright. The younger lover was -distracted; he could not gain any reliable information, and a personal -interview was impossible. So he did as every one else did in those -days—he paid a visit to the wise man of Scarborough. The wise man, -after a considerable performance of his own, placed a seeing-glass in -front of the young fellow, desiring him to gaze steadily thereon, and -to tell him if he saw the likeness of any one appear. Presently the -young chap swore he had seen the face of Nanny Pearson. The wise man, -on hearing this, declared that she was the origin of all the evil, -and told him to return home, procure by some means a drop of Nanny’s -blood, and steal a few drops of holy water; these had to be mixed in a -cup of milk drawn from a red cow, and rubbed by him on the soles and -calves of his lady-love, when all would be well. This was a strongish -order, and well-nigh staggered the young chap. Firstly, how was he to -procure a drop of Nanny’s blood? Stealing the holy water was a simple -affair, as also was the red cow’s milk; but how to gain admission to -his lady-love’s chamber, and apply the remedies when obtained, was not -only a task of difficulty, but of danger. Bear in mind this was in the -days of dogs and horsewhips, which were often freely used; but then, as -now, love laughs at difficulties. Once let him become possessed of a -drop of Nanny’s blood, and he would overcome all the other obstacles. -On making his trouble known to an old dame in the village, one Janet -Haswell, she told him something he already knew in part, i.e. that in -a certain field a hare nightly sat, which neither dog could catch nor -man shoot; this hare, declared the old lady, was none other than Nanny -herself. She further assured him that if he melted some silver and made -shot of it, he would be able to hit the hare, and perhaps he might -find some blades of grass stained with blood. Most carefully the young -fellow carried out the old dame’s advice. He was successful; he hit the -hare, and found several blades of grass spotted with blood, which he -carefully gathered. Next day Nanny was confined to bed, and for some -weeks after. At the time, he alone knew the cause. Having procured a -ladder, he invaded his love’s room, and applied the remedy, when she -recovered instantly; he then retired. The damsel, rising and dressing -herself, descended the ladder, and was conveyed to a place of safety, -where she remained until they were wedded. This, by-the-way, I believe -is the first recorded case of massage. - -A curious belief still clings to Gribdale Gate. Any one who dares to -stand near the said gate on New Year’s Eve, will see an old man open -it, pass through, and then vanish. This takes place just as the new -year is born. There is one man still living in Great Ayton who has seen -the old chap thus herald in the new year. Again, old people of Great -Ayton still aver that on a certain night a once noted witch, Nanny -Howe, may be seen riding astride on a broomstick over Howe Wood just at -midnight. This witch, so mounted, is said once to have chased the devil -for miles—on this occasion the two must have fallen out; perhaps at -that time honest folk got their due. Howe Wood is near Kildale. - -Ailer Wood, her real name being Alice, was a witch of considerable note -throughout the Bilsdale district fifty years ago. In the form of a cat -or hare, she seems to have cared little either what kind or colour the -hounds were which chased her. She never was caught, but then she had a -little way of making herself invisible when too hard pressed; but in -this she was not alone, a case in point having already being mentioned. -Innumerable times was she fired at, ‘bud nivver nobody could hit her.’ -On one occasion a damsel named Annie Wilson felt sure the old thing -had bewitched her sweetheart. The reason for such a supposition lay in -the fact that the young fellow had transferred his affections to some -other fair charmer. My idea is that the other girl had bewitched him; -that, however, was not Annie’s notion. She, like many another maiden -of her time, went with the sorrow of her aching heart to the wise man -of those parts, one Henry Wilson, who, after carefully listening to -Annie’s woeful story, told her how she could discover if it was the -witch who had cast a spell on her lover. She was to return home, turn -the cricket[53] wrong side uppermost, pushing pretty close together -and very securely into the wood nine pins, saying, as she pushed in -the last one, ‘There’s nine for him and her and the witch’; in another -place she had to push in another nine, repeating at the ninth, ‘There’s -nine for the witch and her and him’; and lastly, in another place, -another nine, concluding at the ninth by saying, ‘And there is nine -more for all three of them, wi’ her in t’ middle.’ By this arrangement, -the vile creature who had stolen her lover, was always mentioned so -that she occupied a place nearest the witch. All this having been -accomplished, the stool had to be set on its feet, and, under some -pretext or other, Ailer was to be induced to seat herself thereon. On -doing so, she would be unable to get up again until she truly answered -any questions Annie asked her. Everything was carried out as ordered by -Wilson: Ailer was called in, and offered a cup of tea, the stool having -been pushed toward her; she was invited to seat herself, and have her -bite and sup comfortably. Now, was ever a maiden nearer finding out -just why her lover had deserted her? The stool was even put in front -of the fire, and Ailer again invited to seat herself; but no, the -witch quietly replied, it would not be possible for her to enjoy the -good things they had given her, seated on the back of a ‘pricky-back -otch’n[54].’ Ailer by some means had found out what had been done, and -so escaped the charm which had been prepared for her. - -No doubt exists in the minds of many people now, that hedgehogs milk -the cows[55]. It seems they creep up to them whilst they are resting, -and draw their milk from them. My old friend told me they always killed -a hedgehog whenever they saw one, for that reason. - -One Nancy Newgill, a Broughton witch, used to set hedgehogs to milk the -cows of those she had a spite against, and it was commonly believed -that at times she used to turn herself into one, and then ‘neeabody’s -coos had onny chance’; anyway, there was one hedgehog which could run -as fast as a hare, and never was catched, ‘ner killed ner nowt.’ This -Nancy Newgill cast a spell on a certain Martha Brittain, from which -she could obtain no ease, no matter what she took; so off to the wise -man[56] Martha went. She was told to go to Stokesley, and buy a new -fire-shovel, upon which she had to chalk Nancy’s name[57]; then to make -a cake—the ingredients need not be given—and, after closing her doors -and window, the cake was to be baked upon the shovel resting on the -fire. This was done at four o’clock in the afternoon[58]. Now, at the -time this cake was being baked, Nancy Newgill was ’luking’ weeds in a -field a mile away, and standing quite close to her was my informant, -Mrs. Peary. Suddenly Nancy clapped her hand on her stomach, crying out, -‘Ah mun gan yam! Ah mun gan yam!’ She left the field, and was ill for -days after; but Martha Brittain began to mend straight away, and was as -right as ever she could be. - -This, however, is a small affair, compared with the case of a man who -lived at Broughton, and had a spell cast on him, by whom he did not -know; at least, he was divided in his doubts. He suspected first Nancy, -and also a man with an evil eye at Nunthorpe, but he could not really -say which of them had cast the spell; so he went to the wise man, but -in this he got little comfort. The wise man told him, before he could -do anything he must be quite certain who had cast the spell, because if -he worked a counter-charm on any one, and they were innocent, what he -did would fall upon the complainant, in addition to what he was already -suffering. He advised him to ‘plump[59]’ both Nancy and the Nunthorpe -man with it. On accusing Nancy, she was so indignant, and looked him -so straight in the face, and swore such a fearful oath, that he felt -certain she for once was innocent; in such contrast was the behaviour -of the evil-eyed one of Nunthorpe, that he was equally satisfied that -he was the man. So sure was he, that he told the wise man he would -chance it; so they set to work. A fire of wickenwood having been -lighted close on midnight, a ball of clay was beaten flat with the back -of an old Bible; on this a rude figure was scooped out in the shape of -a man. Into this rough mould was poured a mixture of pitch, beeswax, -hog’s lard, bullock’s blood, and a small portion of the fat from a -bullock’s heart. The whole having been melted and well stirred on the -wickenwood fire, what remained of the mixture after filling the mould -was divided; one-half was thrown into water, worked into a ball, and -thrown away; the remaining portion was poured on to the fire, causing -a most tremendous blaze; when this died out, the ashes were buried in -the churchyard. The figure having been removed from its mould, and two -small holes made to represent the eyes, a pin was thrust into one of -these eyes, an incantation pronounced, and the spell was concluded. -The pain left the man as he was returning home, and that very night -the evil-eyed Nunthorpian was seized with a fearful pain, and before -morning was blind of an eye—the eye corresponding to the one through -which the pin had been thrust in the wax figure. I had the above from -one who well knew the trio. My informant is still living. - -Matthew Appleton, of Busby, for many years ruled the planets—it seems -he ruled them so well that he found a pot of gold. This was ruling the -planets to some purpose, and it is a great pity astronomers don’t work -this seemingly dead science up a bit. - -In connexion with the witch-lore of the riding, it strikes one as -singular, that whilst many of the stories told of local witches closely -resemble those of other countries, yet other stories, equally common, -both abroad and a little further north, so far as I have investigated, -are with us conspicuous by their absence. Of witches turning their -victims into horses by throwing a bridle over their heads and riding -them the night through, or of a witch having been outwitted and treated -in like manner, even in some instances casting a shoe, and of being -reshod during the night, the shoe remaining nailed to the hand on -regaining their natural form—of such stories, I repeat, not a vestige -remains amongst us. Thorpe’s _Mythology_ and the Wilkie MS. give many -instances; and though some of the stories are dated almost in recent -times, doubtless their radicals are to be found in the myth of times -remote. - -Again, whilst we retain the belief in the efficacy of the dead hand in -the curing of certain diseases, one never hears mention of the ‘hand of -glory[60].’ There are old people to-day who tell you of its marvellous -power, but their knowledge is that gained from hearsay. I have never -met a single person who knew of an instance of its having been used in -the North Riding; and if ever such was the case, it must have been long -ago, for many of the old folk know absolutely nothing about it. - -Silver shot was a deadly charge, because, in some way not explained, -it was charmed. Jane Wood, who was accounted a witch about seventy -years ago in the Basedale district, gave little heed either to dogs -or guns; when she assumed the form of a hare, she escaped from the -former quite easily, and the latter never could hit her. At last one -sportsman, acting on the advice of a wise man, melted some silver -coins in an iron ladle smeared with the blood of a hare. This was done -at the blacksmith’s forge, the same being plentifully supplied with -wickenwood. The melted silver was poured into a basin of water, which -divided it into fine particles; suitable pieces were collected, the gun -charged, and next evening the venturesome hare was fired at. Though it -escaped, it was evidently badly hit. Suspicion had for some time rested -on Jane. Her cottage was visited; she declared she was too ill to rise -and open the door, having, as she said, accidentally turned a beehive -over and got severely stung. This statement did not satisfy those -outside. The door was burst open, and Jane pulled out of bed; over one -part of her body she was found to be covered with small sores, which -there was no doubt had been caused by the silver shot. Anyway, that -venturesome hare was never seen again, so no further proof was required. - -There is one point which requires a few words of explanation, at least -so far as it can be explained. We have heard of witches who allowed -themselves to be chased as hares, some of which, if not caught, were -bitten just as they were entering their own homes; on examination, -teeth-marks were found on a corresponding part of their body. The -same may be said of the injuries inflicted by the silver shot. The -telling of these stories leaves no doubt in one’s mind that the witches -in the cases mentioned are supposed to have turned themselves into -hares. This, however, was not always the case, as the following story -will show. There was a woman on whom grave suspicion rested; for -some reason or other she was never openly charged with being a witch, -but old heads were ominously shaken when her name was mentioned. In -the district in which she lived, there was a notorious hare, which -simply jeered at dogs and guns alike. At length some one suggested -silver shot; this was duly made, and the hare shot dead. Afterwards, -on comparing the times, it was found that Mrs.—— had thrown up her -arms the very moment when the hare was shot, ejaculating, ‘They have -killed my familiar spirit’; uttering these words, she fell dead on her -kitchen floor. Now Mrs.—— had not been out that day—there were plenty -of witnesses to testify that—so it would seem it was not always a case -of transformation, but a familiar spirit which was chased, whilst the -individual herself was at home attending to her household duties. Of -course all such were subject to the ills which might befall their -familiars. - -There seems to be a very close connexion between a hare being shot and -corresponding wounds being found on the person of those who had so -transformed themselves, and the stories told of the witch mares being -shod and the shoes remaining fixed to their hands when their original -form was resumed. - - - _Hobmen._ - -At one time the family of Oughtred, who lived on a farm near Hob Hill, -Upleatham, were greatly assisted in their various occupations by the -hobman, who lived in the Hob Hill. These hobmen are heard of now and -again in the North Riding. The hobman[61] with us seems to hold the -same place as the brownies of the north, and the pixies of Devonshire. -Anyway, the hobman still did his work as recently as 1820; for the -Oughtreds had their hay turned, their cattle brought home and driven -back again, their corn and other grain winnowed, their turnips topped -and tailed, and I do not know what all. What they did to offend the -hobman, is not known. But it is thought that a man hung his coat on -the winnowing machine, and forgot to remove it when his day’s work was -done. The hobman possibly thought, when he entered late at night, that -it had been left for him; and no offence, it seems, could be greater -than to offer a hobman clothes of any kind, so he went away, and has -never been heard of since. It seems at the very time they unfortunately -displeased their friend the hobman, they also incurred the ill-will -of Peggy Flaunders; for about this time, late one evening, a fearful -knocking came at the back door. The maid, on opening it, saw a fearful -thing like a blazing pig standing on the step; with one wild shriek -she fled, crying out to her master and mistress that the devil had -come, and was standing on the back doorstep. They at once asked, had -she closed the back door? On being told that she was too frightened -to do anything else but flee from such a monster, they both sank back -in dismay, well knowing the evil spirit had been given a chance to -enter, which they rightly feared it would not fail to avail itself -of. They rushed to the back door, but nothing was there; still they -had their misgivings—they were terribly apprehensive. And sure enough -it turned out not without cause—crockery was smashed, machinery was -broken, cattle died; in fact things got into such a parlous state, that -they decided to leave. On the day when they were preparing to flit, a -friend looked in, and asked Oughtred if he really meant shifting. As he -asked the question, a queer little head popped out over the top of the -press, and a voice squeaked out, ‘Aye, we’re gahin ti flit ti morn’; on -hearing which, Oughtred said, ‘Whya, if thoo’s gahin wiv uz, it’s teea -neea ewse gahin; wa mud ez weel stop[62].’ The wise man was eventually -consulted. Legend sayeth not where he lived; but under his directions a -live black cock bird was pierced with pins, and roasted alive at dead -of night, with every door, window, and cranny and crevice stuffed up. -By these means Peggy’s power and the imp were overcome. - -Years ago, when the old church at Marske-by-the-Sea was condemned, -and a new one about to be built, it was decided to pull down the old -structure and use the stone for building the new. This bit of vandalism -was duly commenced; part of the old building was razed, and the stone -carted to the new site[63]—so far, so good. The old people murmured, -for they objected greatly to the demolition of the edifice in which -they and their fore-elders had worshipped; but they were powerless—they -could only stand by and watch with aching hearts stone after stone -being carted away. And so the first day’s work came to an end, which -to them was work of desecration, and they returned home sad at heart. -But if they were powerless, they had a champion, and one whom they -had never dreamt of taking up their cause. Next morning, when the men -returned to their work, what was their surprise, and the amazement of -every one else, to find the old church whole again, without a stone -displaced or a mark of the previous day’s work to be found anywhere. -Every stone had been brought back again and replaced _in situ_, and the -mortar which had been used to reset the displaced stones was as hard -and set as that of hundreds of years before. - -This marvellous occurrence was duly reported at head-quarters. What -the officials thought or imagined, is not recorded; they ordered the -work to proceed, and even set on more men to pull the old place down, -so that on the second day a considerable portion was carted away and -stacked on the new site; but next morning the old church was found to -have been fully repaired during the night, every stone having once -again been brought back and placed in its original position. Things -were now looking a bit serious. On the third day, however, work was -resumed, a portion again pulled down and carted away, but this time -men were set to watch the stones and find out who came for them. Now, -whether these watchers fell asleep—they declared they did not—or -whether in the darkness the stones were all stolen away so quietly that -they never heard or saw anything of what was transpiring, cannot be -stated; one thing is only known—when daylight appeared, every stone had -vanished, and again the old church was found to have been restored, so -perfectly that no one could tell that ever a stone had been removed. -Those in authority were bound to admit that it was useless to contend -further against such a powerful and invisible opponent. For long it -was not generally known by what means the work of replacement had been -wrought; but there were those who knew, and in time every one did. It -was the hobman, assisted by others of his friends. In those days it -was simply the essence of folly for architects and bricklayers to pit -themselves against a hobman, just the same it would be to-day, if the -hobmen took it into their heads to undertake a job—but they don’t now. - -There was a hobman once had his home in a hill near to Hob Garth, -and no doubt in his day performed many acts which are now forgotten; -however, I had one related to me years ago by an old chap who at that -time was working on the Mulgrave estate. His grandfather, Thomas -Stonehouse, lived at Hob Garth for many years. I think he had a small -holding; anyway, he kept sheep. It seems that some misunderstanding -arose between him and one Matthew Bland, of Great Fryup. Bland was of a -vindictive nature—at least, if the supposition was true that he broke -Tommy’s hedge down late one night, drove the sheep out, and left them -to wander whither they liked. And wander they did to some purpose, -for at the close of the day following, Stonehouse had only managed to -find five out of forty. Next morning, what was his surprise not only -to find his sheep back in the field, but the hedge repaired with new -posts and rails. The neighbours knew that he could not have done the -repairing, for he had caught a severe cold, having been wet to the skin -searching for the lost sheep the day previous. Next night, however, -every head of cattle belonging to Bland was turned loose. ‘And great -deed there was lating on ’em; it war ower a fo’tnit afoor they war all -gitten tigither again.’ That Stonehouse was quite innocent of this bit -of retaliation was clear even to Bland, as it was well known he was too -ill to stir out of doors. But when Bland had recovered all his lost -cattle, Stonehouse’s were set loose again, and the damage done was even -greater this time; and as the poor fellow was still too ill to turn out -to find them, the neighbours did what they could. This time, however, -even fewer were found, but again on the following morning all but four -were safely back in the field, and all damage repaired; subsequently -the four were found dead, having fallen into a disused quarry. People -talked, as naturally they would, and the bringing back of the lost -sheep and repairing of the rails was put down to the hobman. When this -conclusion was come to, heads were shaken in an ominous manner, for -evidently if Tommy was befriended by the hobman, Matthew would have to -mind what he did. As soon as Tommy could, he set off to see his sheep. -It happened to be rather late when he paid the first visit after his -illness, owing to the fact that a neighbour was driving past where -the sheep were, and as he was returning presently, he offered to put -Stonehouse down and pick him up again as he returned. Tommy counted his -sheep, and after cutting some hay for them—it was wintertime—he sat -by the gate waiting for the return of his neighbour. Presently an old -man accosted him, and begged him not to fret about the lost sheep, as -they would be more than compensated for when lambing time came. The -old chap told him that Bland had on both occasions been guilty, but -that he had not to mind. Just then his friend drove up. Tommy bade his -new acquaintance good-night, thanked him, and got into the cart. No -sooner was he seated, than the good neighbour asked him what he meant -by saying good-night and thanking nobody at all. It transpired that the -owner of the cart had not noticed any one speaking to Tommy. In the -end he thought the old chap ’war a bit waak an rafflin.’ Anyway, when -lambing time came, though the weather was very severe, and every one -else, and more particularly Bland, lost many lambs, Stonehouse never -lost one. Ewes, during Tommy’s absence, were found safely delivered of -their lambs, and mostly had two, and never a black one amongst them. -‘An’ noo that war a larl bit sing’lar, warn’t it? Bud then, ya knaw, -i’ them daays when t’ hobman did tak ti yan, ya war yal reet i’ t’ -lang-run; an’ ivvery wo’d ’at Ah’ve tell’d ya’s trew, ’coz Ah’ve heeard -mah gran’father tell t’ taal ower an’ up agaan; bud it’s a gay bit -sen noo,’ wound up my informant. The hobman was described as a little -old fellow, with very long hair, large feet, eyes, mouth, and hands, -stooping much as he walked, and carrying a long holly stick. The date -of the story would be about 1760. - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - SOME CHARACTERISTIC YORKSHIRE SAYINGS - - Kindly contributed by the Rev. M. C. F. MORRIS, B.C.L., M.A., Author - of _Yorkshire Folk-Talk_. - - -There is a saying current among us in the East Riding that ‘it takes -a Yorkshireman to talk Yorkshire’; the very form of the expression -smacks of the county; and if this be true, as true it is, of the -mere pronunciation of the dialect, it is no less true with regard to -those other linguistic features—the idioms, phraseology, and way of -putting things, which in this, as in every other folk-speech, go to a -great extent to make up the vernacular. We might even advance a step -beyond the statement just quoted, for by no means the majority even -of those who have lived in the county all their lives can tongue the -speech aright, and many not at all. It is far from uncommon to hear -an accurate pronunciation of the dialect from the lips of those who -are supposed to speak it well, and to find at the same time that the -speaker wholly lacks an appreciation of those modes of thought, those -turns and peculiarities of expression in which the Yorkshire dialect is -peculiarly rich, and without which it sounds by comparison only tame -and feeble. As between dog-Latin and the well-turned and polished, -though often long-winded, sentences of Cicero, so is it in some sort -between the two styles of dialectical Yorkshire to which I refer. The -one grates upon the ear, while the other rings true. Over and above -idiomatic usages strictly so called, there are many sayings more or -less familiar which, though they cannot be brought under any rules of -speech, like those of grammar, yet seem to possess a certain raciness -all their own, and at the same time bring before us something of the -Yorkshireman’s force and character. To some of these I will here direct -attention, though it must be understood that what are here cited are -but a few disconnected specimens of many more which might be given. - -We are most of us, no doubt, aware that in all his dealings and matters -of business the Yorkshireman is pre-eminently of a strongly practical -turn of mind. We ‘reckon nowt’ of a man who is not that. - -It would be untrue to say that sentiment is a state of mind absolutely -unknown to his nature; but its presence is so rare, and its hold upon -him so feeble, that it need hardly be taken into account in considering -his character. There may, no doubt, be times when such feelings are -brought into play, but the strange thing is that when we might most -reasonably look for them, we look in vain. - -Those attractive personal charms of the gentler sex which with ordinary -mortals are generally supposed to have their effect at times when a -young man is seeking a partner for life, weigh but little for the most -part with the matter-of-fact Yorkshireman who regards his intended -from a severely practical point of view. What, we may ask, would the -sentimentalist of the highly strung poetical temperament think of this -piece of advice which was once given to a youth at an interesting -period of his life? ‘Leeak at a lass’s han’s when thoo’s laatin’ a -weyfe; deean’t be daffled wiv ’er feeace!’ It was said in the olden -days that the lass who churned ‘wi’ buckles on her shoon’ was to be -lightly esteemed, but for sheer practicality the manual test could -hardly be surpassed. I well remember, many years ago, the case of a man -who was twice married. His first wife proved herself an excellent one -in every way, and the couple lived happily together. When she died, -and he proceeded to look out for a successor, his choice fell on one -who also turned out a no less industrious and tidy woman, though her -personal attractiveness was not of a specially pronounced character. On -being asked by a neighbour what led him to make his selection in the -way he did, he made answer to the effect that his sole reason for doing -so was because his second wife’s ’carcase’ reminded him so strongly of -that of his first; she was a lithe, active woman, and he thought, no -doubt, that she looked like work. - -Despite these purely utilitarian considerations in matters matrimonial, -the saying we have heard that the ‘sweetness of a posy mainly hings -on fra wheear yan gits it,’ indicates that some at least of our -country-folk, under certain favouring conditions, can say pretty -things, though it must be confessed such elegancies are few and far -between. The ordinary village gossip who neglects her household -duties for the sake of ‘having a crack’ with her neighbours, has from -‘prehistoric times,’ no doubt, come in for much plain-speaking, of -which this may be given as an example: ‘T’ weyfe ’at can ho’d her au’d -man up wi’ t’ news oot o’ t’ toon, meeastlins bakes bo’nt breead.’ -Such wives as these are not the ones to pay much heed to principles of -domestic economy. Nevertheless, considerations of this kind are as a -rule carefully thought out by our country-folk, if not scientifically, -at least in a way that makes a shilling go as far as possible. It may -be said, indeed, speaking generally, that domestic affairs receive, on -the part of the Yorkshire wife, an amount of attention that is highly -commendable, and adds not a little to the happiness of the family, and -in no part of England do the people understand the meaning of the word -‘comfort’ better than they do in Yorkshire. - -Cleanliness is a virtue for which our people have long been -conspicuous, though even here extremes will sometimes meet, and -excessive scrupulousness in this respect will at times be something of -a burden to the household rather than a joy. - -It was once said of a ‘gudewife’ whose washings, scrubbings, -polishings, and brushings were performed with more than ordinary -frequency and vigour, ‘Sha scrats an’ tews fra morn whahl neet; sha -werrits an’ natters an’ grummels t’ daay lang.... There’s neea comfort -i’ t’ hoos; an’ ther nivver is wheear t’ kettle’s breet all ower.’ - -In days gone by it used to be said that a ’calling’ wife and a dusty -spinning-wheel were commonly associated together, and the saying, -‘A mucky moos-trap shoots’ (shouts) ‘for t’ cat,’ was one of those -standing rebukes to a slatternly _mater familias_ which is tellingly -put, while the following doggerel might well find a place on the walls -of every kitchen:— - - - A cobweb i’ t’ kitchen - An’ feeat-marks on t’ step - Finnd neea wood i’ t’ yewn - An’ neea cooals i’ t’ skep. - - -No theme is more frequently harped upon by our old folks, when -contrasting present manners and customs with those of a generation or -two ago, than the change that has come over the community in the matter -of dress, and there is a moral which they commonly draw therefrom. -‘There’s sadly owermich prahd noo,’ say they; while the money that many -of the young people spend upon their dress passes the understanding -of their elders, who in their younger days were content with fustian -jackets and print gowns. It was said, for instance, by one who held -that a hood was a suitable head-covering for a woman, that ‘she is a -feeal ’at hugs a geease’ (i.e. the price of a goose) ‘on t’ top of her -heead.’ In consequence of extravagancies of this nature, it is doubtful -if, in spite of increased wages and cheapness of living, our farm lads -and lasses save as much money as they did in the olden days. With corn -at the high price it was, say, fifty years ago, the people were early -inured to thrifty ways, and the absolute necessity for carefulness in -all things was frequently insisted upon. Thus, for instance, a child -would be told that ‘a beean thrawn away at t’ fore-end is a dinner lost -at t’ back-end.’ Few of those living now would credit with what hard -fare their grandfathers had often to be content, and yet the physique -of the men which those times produced was probably not inferior, in -point of endurance and capacity for work, to that at the present time. - -Most of us, I dare say, remember the schoolgirl’s reply when asked -to define scandal, namely, ‘When no one does nothing to nobody, and -some one else goes and tells’; and although we cannot perhaps surpass -even in Yorkshire that happy explanation of the term, yet we do own to -certain sayings with reference to the unruly member, some of which may -not be unworthy of being placed on record. There is one, for instance, -which savours somewhat of the schoolgirl’s definition just mentioned, -and there are probably many similar ones; it runs thus: ‘Them ’at says -they deean’t leyke saayin’ nowt aboot nowt ti neeabody, meeastlins pass -tahm by saayin’ summat aboot summat ti somebody.’ - -Again, the following rhyme aptly hits off what, it is to be feared, is -a not altogether uncommon failing in Yorkshire as elsewhere:— - - - Them ’at says they weean’t, an’ diz it still, - Dizn’t deea it when they saay they will. - - -We all know what to expect from a ‘slaap un’; he or she can never be -depended on for anything. It was said of a female whose tongue could -not be trusted, or, as we say in the East Riding, whom we could not -‘talk after’: ‘Ah reckon nowt o’ what sha says.... Praise frev a slaap -tongue is nae better wo’th ’an rain i’ haay tahm.’ - -That the idler is ever ready to make excuses for his idleness, and that -half the ‘loafers’ who infest the countryside are as capable of doing -a day’s work as any one else in the community, we are well aware. We -know, too, how any slight ailment is by many used as a plea for having -an ‘off-day’; it is to such ‘ne’er-do-weels’ as these that the saying -applies: ‘Yan’s nivver ower waak to wark when yan’s yabble ti bunch an -au’d hat ower t’ green.’ - -It is remarkable how few of the well-known English proverbs are in -common use among our country folk in the form in which they have been -handed down to us. They are for the most part either supplanted by -corresponding ones of more or less local growth or by extemporized -expressions which do duty for the same and are of scarcely less -force. Thus, for example, it was said of one who had been addicted to -intemperate habits, and had at length given them up, but, alas! only to -fall immediately into the wily snares of horse-racing and betting: ‘Ah -deean’t think ’at he’s mended hissen mich: they saay ’at he’s signed t’ -pledge, bud started ti hoss-race; t’ rabbit dizn’t fare na betther ’at -’scapes fra t’ fox an’ meets wi’ t’ rezzil.’ - -The well-worn saying that ‘prevention is better than cure,’ is one -which none of us will care to gainsay, and we are for the most part -minded so to word the truism; the ancient statement is, however, apt to -take a different turn when uttered by Yorkshire lips. On one occasion -a Yorkshireman remarked to another countryman, with reference to a -certain fire in a house in the neighbourhood, ‘He sleck’d t’ fire -oot afoor mich damage wer deean’; whereto the reply came, ‘’T may be -clivver ti stop a bull, bud it’s wiser ti loup t’ yat.’ - -An instance is recorded, and we fear it is by no means a solitary one, -of a certain would-be fine lady in one of our Yorkshire villages who -dressed herself up in a manner singularly unbecoming for one in her -station in life, and withal gave herself highly ridiculous airs. This -kind of parade, as may be supposed, gave no little offence in certain -quarters, while others of her sex, though not able or willing to adorn -their persons to the same absurd degree of finery, were in no wise -inferior in real worth to this flaunty and gaily bedecked female. As -‘my lady’ sailed down the ‘town street’ on one occasion, a critical -observer of her ways was heard to remark, ‘Sha gans wiv her heead up as -thoff yan wer nowt bud muck; bud Ah’ll tell ya what, Ah’s as good as -sha is, if Ah’s nut sa weel putten on—black fleeace or white fleeace, -t’ mutton’s t’ seeam.’ It would be difficult to say whether such a one -were the more deserving of all the severe things that were heaped upon -her or another of whom we have heard—Bessie by name. Her ‘pleeanin’’ -ways were thus described: ‘It’s awlus ower fine or ower wet for oor -Bessie, bud sum folks is that grum’ly, that they awlus ’ev a steean i’ -ther shoon.’ - -The ordinary infirmities of the flesh are no doubt the inheritance of -the Yorkshireman equally with the rest of mankind; we can claim for him -no immunity from these. He is ‘hurt with the same weapons, subject to -the same diseases, healed by the same means,’ even as others. Fools -are perhaps rather less frequently met with in this than in some other -counties, and if there is one bump more clearly developed upon the -Yorkshireman’s cranium than another, it is that of caution. Those -who happen to be deficient in that particular quality come in for no -unfrequent reproofs and warnings from their more ‘gaumish’ fellows. -Thus to one who was always being taken in by people of whom he knew -nothing, this piece of advice was given: ‘Afoor yan claps a stthrange -dog uppo t’ heead, yan s’u’d awlus leeak ’at it teeal;’ while of -another, whose propensity to spend money was in excess of that usually -found among those who dwell between the Humber and the Tees, it was -said, ‘Aw deear, what a feeal he’s been! bud Ah’ve telled him mair ’an -yance ’at money ta’en oot o’ t’ pocket’s mair ’an hauf spent.’ Again, -we have a Yorkshireman’s equivalent of the brief injunction, ‘look -before you leap,’ expressed as follows: ‘Nivver loup a stell widoot ya -knaw what sooart of a footho’d you’ll leet on.’ - -To the same effect as the foregoing is a small bit of admonition that -comes down to us from the days of the old tinder-box; and for lack of -its due observance, many a small trouble has been experienced. The -word of warning shapes itself thus: ‘Afoor yan flints tundther, knaw -wheear t’ rush-leet is.’ A few old formulas of this kind may even still -occasionally be heard. It was not long ago that I was told of one from -the borders of Durham and Yorkshire which struck me as having an -antiquated flavour, but yet, withal, one of a picturesque kind. The -reason for its use was to reprove a child for displaying a certain -greediness at table. It would sound strangely in modern ears to hear -it said to a child in such a case: ‘Thoo’s ’greed wi’ sham an’ gi’en -mense a grot’ (you have made an agreement with shame, and given decent -behaviour a groat). - -There is no little truth as well as force in the old expression which -says, ‘Them ’at crack o’ thersens awlus to’n’ (turn) ‘oot blawn -eggs’; and those who have risen in the world, especially if it be by -questionable means, may well take a lesson from the saying, ‘Him ’at’s -gitten ti t’ top o’ t’ stee, dhrops farest when he falls.’ - -In Yorkshire, as elsewhere, those who thus ‘crack o’ thersens,’ besides -being unpopular with their fellows, are, generally speaking, more -easily daunted than those who are not given to blow their own trumpets. - -That was a truly good specimen of our dialectical usages which had -reference to one who was in the habit of sounding his own praises in no -measured terms. ‘Whya,’ said a countryman, who took a fairly accurate -measure of this vain boaster’s ways, ‘Ah deean’t knaw; he’ll mebbe nut -deea sa mich when all cums ti all; Ah’ve heeard folk saay ’at a bragger -taks a lang stthrahd when t’ teeap’ (the ram) ‘grunds it heeaf’ (stamps -the ground with its hoof). - -The most trifling and homely incidents frequently give occasion to a -Yorkshireman for bringing out some of his flashes of wit and raciness -of expression. I remember not long ago hearing of a native of the -North Riding who, one day in the fore-part of ‘sheep-clipping time,’ -accompanied an old shepherd in order to have some sheep washed. They -had to wait near the appointed place until another flock had gone -through the well-known process of cleansing, and as they were whiling -away the time, the vicar’s mother and sister drove by. Seeing what -was going on, they pulled up and entered into conversation with the -old shepherd, who, like every Yorkshireman, was a bit of a character. -‘We do so like the smell of sheep,’ they said; to which the old man -replied, ‘Yis, mum, an’ seea deea Ah; bud Ah leykes t’ teeast on ’em -betther!’ - -In the few examples I have here given, it will perhaps be seen how that -the Yorkshireman has a way of expressing himself which seems to be -peculiarly his own, and how his utterances generally strike a stranger -by their originality and quaintness. Refreshing is it to hear these -when spoken with all the naturalness and force with which some of the -older folk tongue them. They come upon us like whiffs of sea air laden -with ozone, which put new life into us and make us walk with a lighter -step. - -I will bring my short chapter to a close by a characteristic little -story which forcibly illustrates how strong the Yorkshireman’s ruling -passion—I mean, of course, his love of horseflesh—is in death. - -I was told quite recently of a farmer who, at the time of the -transaction to be related, was laid up with a dangerous illness; -indeed, it proved to be his last. At this time he was possessed of -a thoroughbred mare, which he was anxious to sell. A dealer in the -neighbourhood had had his eye on the mare, and wanted at once to -buy it. Accordingly he called on the farmer, and was shown into his -bedroom. The bargain was not struck during the visit, though the -difference between the two was only a matter of a sovereign or so. - -A few days, however, after this interview, the dealer again presented -himself at the house, not knowing that in the meantime the farmer had -died. On entering the yard, the horse-dealer inquired of the man in the -stables, how the master was. ‘Oh! he’s deead,’ said the man; ‘he deed -last Tho’sda, bud afoor he deed he said ’at thoo was ti ’ev t’ meer!’ - - - - - CHAPTER XII - - IDIOMS AND THE PECULIAR USE OF CERTAIN WORDS - - -The folk-speech of our county abounds in idioms, and possesses many -forms of curious phraseology. - -It is these and other peculiarities which add much to its forcefulness, -and form one of its main features. - -It will be the object of this short chapter to explain some of these -usages and idioms. - -In writing such a chapter there is one difficulty presents itself—where -to commence. There is too much material. As a starting-point, let us -take the following remark, which was made to me the other day by an old -dame:— - - ‘Them lads weean’t deea ez tha’re tell’d; Ah may shoot at ’em ez oft - ez Ah leyke, tha deean’t _mend ther waays_. Ah wadn’t mahnd if tha war - _onny bit leyke_;’ i.e. ‘Those boys will not do as they are told; I - may shout at _’em_ as often as I may, they do not mend their ways. I - would not mind if they were any way reasonable.’ - -One word with reference to ‘’em.’ Writers on Yorkshire mark ‘them,’ so -written, with an elision point (’em). - -Is this correct? I offer an opinion for what it is worth. The -vocabulary of our people dates back to a very remote period; the same -may be said of many of the rules which govern their speech. May not -this ‘em’ be a case in point; and instead of being a contraction of -‘them,’ only the plural form ‘hem,’ which they have retained along with -many other old-time words? - -Wicliff, in the parable of the Prodigal Son, translates as -follows:—‘And the younger of hem;’ and a few lines below, we find, ‘and -he departed’ (divided) ‘to hem.’ Although our people have not retained -in their vocabulary the word ‘departed,’ they have held on to another -equally archaic, i.e. parting, ‘partinge,’ to divide. I leave this for -others better able than I to decide. - -In the old dame’s statement it was said that the lads would not mend -their ways. ‘To mend our ways’ is equivalent to saying, ‘improve,’ ‘to -grow better’; and to be ‘onny bit leyke’ = being reasonable. - -In the sentence ‘Yon’s nowt ti mahn,’ the word ‘yon’ signifies ‘that -or those over there.’ ‘Yon chap’ is ‘that man over there’; or ‘yon -coos,’ ‘those cows over there.’ ‘That chap’ points out a man near at -hand; ‘yon chap,’ one who is a greater or less distance removed from -the speakers. Hence, ‘Yon is nothing to mine’ tells that the thing -spoken of was some distance away. ‘To,’ in the statement ‘to mine,’ -is equivalent to ‘compared with,’ i.e. ‘That (one) is nothing when -compared with mine.’ - -‘To’ also = ‘for,’ e.g. ‘good ti nowt,’ ‘good for nothing.’ Again, -‘to’ = ‘this.’ And although to some it sounds odd to hear a farmer say, -‘Wa s’all ’ev a good crop ti year,’ ‘we shall have a good crop to’ -(this) ‘year,’ it only sounds peculiar because it is unfamiliar. The -same individual who would smile at such usage, would perhaps a moment -afterwards ask, ‘what have we _to_ dinner _to_-day?’ i.e. ‘What have -we for dinner this day?’ The usage of the negative in the double, -treble, or quadruple form is not infrequent. ‘Ah nivver at neea tahm -sed nowt aboot nowt ti neeabody neeaways; Ah’d nivver neea call teea,’ -literally, reads thus: ‘I never at no time said nothing about nothing -to nobody no way; I had never no reason to;’ or, ‘I never said a -word to any one; I had no reason to.’ ‘Ah’d nivver neea call teea.’ -‘Call’ = ‘reason.’ ‘Ah’ll gi’e him a good calling when he cums in; bud -he wants his jacket lacing weel t’ maist ov owt.’ ‘To call’ here = ‘to -scold.’ - -‘Sha called ma leyke all that; aye! ivverything ’at sha c’u’d lig her -tung teea.’ In this instance, ‘called’ means more than a scolding; it -means, ‘to defame,’ ‘to have said of the person shameful things,’ ‘to -illify[64],’ ‘to speak evil of.’ ‘To lace any one’s jacket,’ is ‘to -administer a sound thrashing’; and to say ‘ivverything ’at one can lay -the tongue to,’ is to heap upon a person all the opprobrious epithets -we can remember or invent. We should not say to a child, ‘What is your -name?’ Possibly did we do so, we should be met with a blank stare of -amazement. The correct form would be, ‘What do they call you?’ and you -would have an answer at once. - -We should not say ‘Shout to John,’ but ‘Call of John’; or ‘Thoo’ll ’a’e -ti shoot on him looder na that, if thoo aims ti mak him hear,’ i.e. -‘you will have to shout to him louder than that, if you intend to make -him hear.’ This word ‘call’ caused considerable bewilderment to one who -had to make a complaint to a mother of her son. Being a stranger, the -mother replied to him in her best English, but although she managed -to divest her speech of much of its usual vocabulary, idiom and the -peculiar use of certain words were not so easily laid on one side. She -began, ‘It’s ti little ewse, bud Ah’ll call on him, an’ Ah’ll call him -well when he cums; bud it’s ti no good my calling him when he does cum, -foor Ah’ve called him many a tahm afoor.’ - -Now, why the good lady should promise to call for him when he had -come, and to assure the gentleman it was of no use calling him when -he arrived, because she had done so many a time before, didn’t leave -things as clear as they might have been. What she really meant to say -was, ‘I will shout for him, and give him a scolding when he comes; but -really scolding is of little use, as I have done so many a time before.’ - -A little way back the word ‘aim’ was used—‘if thoo aims ti mak him -hear.’ - -‘Aim’ = ‘to intend,’ ‘to hope,’ ‘to think,’ ‘to go.’ - - ‘Ah aim ti git deean ti-day’ = I intend to get done to-day; or, I hope - to get done to-day. - - ‘Ah aim ’at sha’ll git better’ = I think that she will get better. - - ‘Ah aim ’at he’s a better talker ’an t’ parson’ = I think that he is a - better speaker than the parson. - - ‘He’s aiming t’ wrang road’ = He’s going in the wrong direction. - - ‘Ah aim ’at it’s _good_ eneeaf ti deea’ = I think that it is easy - enough to do. - -The word ‘good’ = ‘easy,’ also ‘considerable.’ - - ‘Ther war a good lot o’ sheep an’ a goodish few pigs,’ i.e. There were - a considerable number of sheep, and equally so of pigs. - -‘Good’ also = ‘well.’ - - ‘Thoo mud ez good cum ti morn ez t’ daay eftther’ = You may as well - come in the morning as the day after. - -‘To lap up a thing’ is ‘to conclude,’ ‘finish,’ ‘overcome.’ - - ‘Ah s’all lap it up iv a minit’ = I shall be done in a minute. - - ‘Ah’ll seean lap yon job up’ = I will soon end that affair. - - ‘If Ah caan’t lap yon chap up, Ah’ll gi’e ower’ = If I cannot overcome - (thrash) yon man, I will give over; literally, I will admit my - incapacity to do anything. - -‘To gi’e ower’ = ‘to cease.’ - - ‘Noo, bairns! gi’e ower potching steeans at t’ ducks; ya’ll be - laamin’ sum on ’em, an’ then sum on ya’ll be gitting ta’en afoor yer - betters’ = Now, children, cease throwing stones at the ducks; you will - be hurting some of them, and then some of you will be getting taken - before your betters. - -‘To be taken’ or ‘having to appear before one’s betters’ = ‘appearing -before the justices.’ - -‘Bunch’ and ‘punch’ are two words over which mistakes are often made. -‘Bunch’ is to kick with the foot or knee, ‘punch’ is to hit with the -hand. - - ‘He bunched, an’ Ah punched, an’ wa baith toupled inti t’ beck - tigither.’ - - ‘Mrs. Ridge, will ya mak your Sally gi’e ower? sha’s bunching ma.’ - - ‘Nobbut when thoo lugs (my hair), Ah deean’t bunch nobbut when thoo - lugs, an’ ivvery tahm ’at thoo lugs, Ah’ll bunch. If it’s gahin to be - lug foor bunch, it s’all be bunch foor lug,’ shouted Sally. - -The very common occurrence of changing the past participle passive -into the infinitive active, with ‘be,’ is somewhat curious. Instead of -saying, ‘it will have to be seen to,’ we should say, ‘it’ll be ti leeak -teea’; or, ‘the dog is dead, it will have to be buried,’ would become, -‘t’ dog’s deead, it’ll be ti sahd by.’ ‘To sahd by’ is ‘to bury,’ and -‘to put out of the road’ is ‘to kill.’ ‘Wa’ve ’ed ti put t’ au’d meer -oot o’ t’ road.’ - -As the following bit of information introduces many of our idioms, I -will give it as uttered. - -‘Thoo maunt _let on_ aboot it, bud oor Tom’s _keeping company_ wi’ -Hannah, Mary’s lass; _an’ Ah’ll tell tha what_, she diz _git hersen up_ -when they gan oot. _Ah nivver thowt foor_ oor Tom ti keep company wi’ -her; sha’s _far an’ awaay_ t’ best leeaking ov onny on ’em. Aye! _byv -a lang waay_; bud he’s gitten weel in wi’ _t’ au’d woman_, an’ he can -gan an’ _hing his hat up_ onny tahm he ’ez a mahnd teea. Ah’ve gi’en -him _an inklin’_ ’at he mun allus _mak hissen mensful_, an’ ti _think -on_ nivver ti _let wit_ owt aboot Nancy. They ’ed a _few wo’ds_ t’other -daay aboot her; it war _all alang of_ summat ’at Jack let slip; an’, -mah wo’d, bud Tom did _ramp an’ rahve_ when he gat ti knaw. Sha sed -’at sha wadn’t be played _fast an’ loose_ wi’; bud Ah tell’t him ti -_feeace it oot_, an’ nut git oot o’ heart, an’ _fall oot_ t’ ane wi’ t’ -ither ower a _larl matter_ leyke that. Bud he sed ’at sha war _grieved -an’ vexed an’ putten aboot_; an’ _moreover ’an that_, Ah tell’d him nut -ti _tak t’ hig_, bud ti tak neea _‘count on_ what fau’k sed, bud ti -deea his best ti _hit it off_, an’ _gi’e ower_ acting leyke ez if he’d -gitten _a slaate off_, an’ nut ti _fetch things up_, or else sha’d be -gi’ing him t’ _cau’d shou’der_, an’ mebbe _gi’ing him t’ sack_ if he -_gat her back up_; onny road, tha’ve _gitten things straighten’d up_ a -bit noo, seea lang ez it lasts.’ - - ‘To let on’ = to tell, to divulge. - - ‘Keeping company’ = to be engaged. - - ‘An’ Ah’ll tell tha what’ = I assure you. - - ‘To get oneself up’ is to pay great attention to one’s appearance. - - ‘Ah nivver thowt foor’ = expected. - - ‘Far an’ awaay’ = much. - - ‘Byv a lang waay’ = much. - - ‘T’ au’d woman’ = either wife or mother. - - ‘To hing one’s hat up’ = to be on very friendly terms. - - ‘An inklin’ = a hint. - - ‘To mak oneself mensful’ = to put on one’s best. - - ‘To think on’ = to bear in mind. - - ‘To let wit’ = to divulge. - - ‘Few wo’ds’ = a slight disagreement. - - ‘All alang of’ = owing to. - - ‘Ramp an’ rahve’ = a violent passion. - - ‘Fast an’ loose’ = first one way and then another. - - ‘Feeace it out’ = to meet an accusation boldly. - - ‘To fall out with’ = to quarrel with. - - ‘Larl matter’ = of small moment. - - ‘Grieved an’ vexed an’ putten aboot’ = to be annoyed. - - ‘Moreover ’an that’ = besides. - - ‘Tak t’ hig’ = to take offence. - - ‘Count on’ = notice. - - ‘To hit it off’ = to agree. - - ‘Gi’e ower’ = cease. - - ‘A slaate off:’ to have a slate off = to be an idiot. - - ‘Fetch things up’ = to mention bygones. - - ‘To get the cau’d shou’der’ = to be treated coolly. - - ‘To give or get the sack’ = to dismiss, to lose a situation. - - ‘To get one’s back up’ = to be provoked to anger. - - ‘To get things straightened up’ = to arrange things in proper order, to - settle matters in dispute. - - -To the above list may be added a few others which are equally common:— - - ‘Ah’ll mak sewer o’ that, hooivver.’ ‘To make sure’ is to put a thing - in a safe place. - - ‘Ah’ll mak an end on ’t.’ ‘To make an end of’ is to destroy, or - conclude a matter once for all. - - ‘Recollect’ is generally used instead of ‘remember,’ but ‘beear i’ - mahnd’ is most commonly used. - - ‘Ah nobbut want nobbut yan.’ ‘Nobbut yan’ is ‘only one.’ I only want - one. - - ‘Hard eneeaf’ = without doubt. ‘He’ll deea ’t hard eneeaf.’ - - ‘Ah put it all waays.’ To put things all ways = explaining a thing in - every conceivable manner. - - ‘Ah feel _nobbut midlin’_ = only moderately well. - - ‘Ah’s _neycely_ noo.’ ‘Nicely’ is equal to almost quite well. - - ‘Ah’s _better_’ does not imply that the patient has recovered, but is - recovering. - - ‘It’s nowt bud a _misfit_, onny road ya tak ’t’ = it is nothing but a - bad fit (answers badly), or altogether out of place. - - ‘Ah s’u’d be all reet if ’twarn’t for this _naggin’ pain_’ = toothache. - - ‘Nighest ov onny’ = nearest of any. ‘Ah gat nighest tiv him ov onny on - ’em.’ - - ‘Not suited’ = not pleased. ‘Ah war neean seea suited at what sha sed.’ - - ‘_Naay, what!_ wa s’all be _forced_ ti gan.’ ‘Forced’ is to be - obliged. ‘Naay, what!’ implies either surprise or disappointment. - - ‘Whya, yan sees him _noos an’ thens_.’ ‘Noos and thens’ = occasionally. - - ‘It won’t be _lang fo’st_’ = it won’t be long before. - - ‘Whya, Ah’ll tell tha what; if thoo nobbut _taks_ it this road, tho’ll - mebbe change thi mahnd.’ To take = to consider. - - ‘Ah _thowt for ti cum_, bud Tommy wadn’t.’ ‘Thowt for ti cum’ = almost - decided to, intended. - - ‘Ah caan’t say hoo, bud _wa’ve gitten oot wiv_ ’em.’ To get out with, - or fall out with = to be at variance. - - ‘_Wa’re kind_ agaan noo; Ah’ve _’ed it ower wiv him_.’ To be kind is - to be friendly; and to have it over with is to have given and received - a full explanation. - - ‘It war that _pick dark_ ’at Ah couldn’t see t’ hoss’s heead.’ ‘Pick - dark’ = absolutely dark. - - ‘He’s sthrangely _setten up_ wi’ t’ thing.’ ‘Setten up’ = very pleased. - - ‘Ah mun be gahin’; Ah ’ev ti ride on _shank’s gallowaay ti neet_,’ - i.e. to walk. - - ‘He’ll ’a’e ti mahnd an’ _treead his teeas streight_, or he’ll be - gitting t’ sack.’ To tread one’s toes straight is to be careful to do - right in all things. - - ‘Ah caan’t gan up Roseberry leyke Ah yance c’u’d, Ah git seea _oot - o’ puff_ noo.’ ‘Oot o’ puff,’ and ‘sho’t o’ puff,’ is to be out of - breath, and short of breath. - - ‘Whya, Ah thowt ’at ther war nobbut varra _slack deed_,’ i.e. dull, - nothing doing. - - ‘Ah nivver war oot i’ sike a _steeping rain_ afoor,’ i.e. pouring down. - - ‘Ah _laid it oot_ tiv him _all roads_,’ i.e. explained. I explained it - to him every way. - - ‘Thoo can saay what thoo leykes, bud Ah _reckon nowt on_ him,’ i.e. - have a very poor opinion of him. - - ‘Ah warn’t _satisfied_ aboot it, efter Ah’d seed it,’ i.e. certain. - - ‘Ah _start_ ti morn; Bob dizn’t want t’ meer whahl t’ daay efter, he’s - nut gahin’ ti _start_ whahl then,’ i.e. begin. - - ‘Ah’s nut _thruff wi’_ ’t yet’ = finished. - - ‘Ah’s be _agate_ ti morn.’ ‘Agate’ is ‘to commence.’ - - ‘He nivver did a _hand to’n_ all t’ tahm ’at he war here,’ i.e. a - single thing, or stroke of work. - - ‘Ah maad fahve on ’em _hand running_,’ i.e. without interruption, or - without ceasing to work. - - ‘‘Ez ’t _kessen up_ yet?’ = has it been found? - - ‘Tho’ll ’a’e ti _knuckle down_,’ i.e. humble oneself. - - ‘Sha’s a bad un, sha’s allus _setting_ things aboot.’ ‘To set about’ - is to spread reports. - - ‘It gans weel wi’ them ’at weel gans wi’’ = it goes well with those - that well goes with, i.e. nothing succeeds like success. - - ‘Tha’re gahin’ ti ’ev _grand deed_; sha’s ti be _sahded by_ o’ - Tho’sday.’ ‘Grand deed,’ something out of the ordinary; ‘sahded by,’ - buried. - - ‘Ah’ve _wrought hard_ all t’ day, bud Ah’ve _brokken its heart_ - noo.’ ‘Wrought hard,’ is to work hard; and ‘to break the heart of an - undertaking,’ is to get the upper hand of it. - - ‘Neea, Ah’s a bit ta’en in; it _show’d_ ti be a good un, bud it’s - warse ’an _a nahn wi’ t’ taal cut off_.’ ‘To show’ = to appear, and a - nine with its tail cut off stands a cypher. - - ‘It didn’t _fetch_ what Ah _reckon’d_ it wad.’ ‘Fetch’ = realize, - ‘reckoned’ = thought. - - ‘Ah war _hard an’ fast asleep_ when ‘Liza cam,’ i.e. sound asleep. - - ‘Martha sez ’at sha’s _cumin’ roond_ neycely,’ i.e. improving. - - ‘Ah’ll a’e neea mair o’ that; Ah’ll seean _steck t’ yat_ o’ that gam.’ - ‘To steck the gate’ = to put a stop to, i.e. to close. - - ‘Ah caan’t forgit what he did ti ma; it’s _stuck i’ mah gizzard_ ivver - sen,’ i.e. taken a thing very much to heart, something which can - neither be forgotten nor forgiven. - - ‘He’ll be _dropping in_ for ’t yet; bud Ah’ve tell’d him _ower an’ - up agaan_, bud it’s _teea neea good_.’ ‘To drop in’ has several - meanings: (1) To look in—‘Ah’ll drop in an’ see tha tineet;’ (2) - punishment—‘Tho’ll drop in for ’t when ta gans yam,’ i.e. you will - either be thrashed, scolded, or punished in some form when you go - home. ‘Ower an’ up agaan’ is a redundancy for ‘many a time’; ‘to neea - good,’ of no use, useless. ‘It’s teea neea good gahin’, ’coz he’s nut - at yam’ = it is useless going, because he is not at home. - -‘If it _fairs up_ thoo maay _pop ower_ ti Jane, bud thoo’ll ’a’e ti -_mahnd thisen_ an’ see ’at t’ cau’d dizn’t _sattle o’ thi chist_; -thoo’s a _larl piece better_ ’an what thoo ’ez been, an’ _ther’s nowt -aboot that_; but thoo’ll ‘ ti _hap thisen up_, thoo seeams a bit -_closed up_ ez it is; an’ Ah seear thoo diz _leeak a bad leeak_, bud -thoo’ll _cum on_ neycely if thoo nobbut taks care.’ - - ‘To fair up’ = to cease raining, to become fine. - - ‘To pop ower’ = to run, to go quickly to. - - ‘To mahnd thisen’ = to take care of oneself. - - ‘To sattle o’ thi chist’ i.e. for the cold to attack the lungs. - - ‘A larl piece better’ = a little better. - - ‘Ther’s nowt aboot that’ = no doubt of that. - - ‘To hap up’ = to wrap up. - - ‘To be closed up’ = difficulty in breathing. - - ‘To leeak a bad leeak’ = to look ill. - - ‘To cum on’ = to improve. - -‘Sha’s cuming on neycely noo, sha’s gitten a to’n foor t’ better, bud -Ah thowt it war gahin ti be all _owered wiv_ her _yance ower_.’ - - ‘To be owered with’ = to cease, to be the last end of. - - ‘Yance ower’ = once over, once. - - ‘Ah’s gahin’ ower[65] ti Bessy’s; t’ rest on ya mun stop wheer ya are, - ther’s ower[66] monny on ya ti cum wi’ ma.’ - - ‘Ah war _hard set_ ti git it deean byv t’ tahm.’ - - ‘To be hard set’ = to be much bothered, to find a thing difficult to do. - -‘He _sidled aboot_ t’ Squire whahl he gat his rent sattled.’ - -‘He’s awlus _skewing aboot_ t’ doctor’s; Ah aim ’at he’s efter yan o’ -t’ lasses.’ - - ‘To sidle about a person’ = being obsequious. - - ‘To gan _skewing about_ a place’ = to look or go about slily. ‘To skew - about’ = to walk like a fool. - -‘If thoo’s gahin ti _be agate_, Ah’ll _get agate_, an’ _set agate_ -Matther.’ - - ‘Be agate’ = to be astir. - - ‘Get agate’ = to commence work; and ‘to set agate,’ to set another to - work, or to start oneself. ‘If you are going to be astir, I will - commence (the job), and set Matthew to work (also).’ - -‘_To hang in the bell ropes_’ is either the time occurring between the -first publishing of the banns, or that during which a wedding may be -postponed. - -‘_To let oneself down_’ = to perform some action which lowers us in the -estimation of others. - -‘He’s gitten neea _heart i’ t’ job_, nivver neeabody ’ez when tha’re -_rahding t’ deead hoss_.’ - - ‘To ride the dead horse’ is to do work for which payment has been made - beforehand; hence, a man shews no energy in such work. - -‘It’s a fine daay, ther’s nowt aboot that; bud Ah’s ’fraid it’s nowt -bud a _weather breeder_.’ - - This is often said specially of fine weather when inappropriate to the - season. - -‘To _look hard_ at anything’ is to do so earnestly. - - ‘Noo _leeak hard at it_, that’s “C,” nut “O”; noo leeak hard, an’ bear - it i’ mahnd,’ said an old country schoolmaster. - -‘_Ho’d on a bit_, thoo’s nut gahin’ _ti rahd rough-shod_ ower me.’ -‘Ho’d on a bit,’ spoken in an ordinary tone, means simply ‘wait,’ -‘stay a moment.’ But in case of an argument, its utterance conveys -the information that the tongue of one of the disputants is wagging a -little too freely, or it may imply, ‘cease speaking altogether.’ E.g. I -heard a man say the other day to a fellow workman: ‘Thoo ho’d on a bit, -wa’ve ’ed eneaf o’ thi blather,’ i.e. ‘you cease speaking (hold your -noise), we have had enough of your silly talk.’ The tone of the ‘thoo’ -gave such an emphasis, that there could be no mistaking the command -which it implied. On the other hand, ‘Here, Ah saay, ho’d on a bit,’ -carries no greater weight than ‘That will do for the present.’ - -‘To ride rough-shod over any one’ = utterly ignoring or treating with -contempt their desires and wishes. - -‘Wa’ve been tul him, an’ wa’ve tell’t him ez plaan ez wa c’u’d what wa -wanted an’ what wa meant ti ’ev, an’ wa didn’t _minsh matters_ nowther; -an’ when wa’d deean, he just to’n’d roond, an’ tell’d uz ’at wa mud -_jump up_ all t’ lot on uz for owt ’at he cared; he s’u’d _gan his awn -gate_, neea matter what wa sed or did. Ah tell ya what, chaps—it seeams -ti me ez if he meant ti rahd rough-shod ower t’ lot on uz.’ - - ‘Minsh matters’ = not speaking in a straightforward way; another form - of the same expression is, ‘nut ti be ower neyce,’ not over-nice, - careless as to expressions or the method employed. - - To tell a person he may ‘jump up,’ means he may just do as he likes. - - ‘To gan one’s awn gate’ = going our own way, i.e. acting as we think - best. - -‘Ah deean’t _reckon_ mich on him—he diz ivverything by _fits an’ -starts_, an’ ya caan’t _lay onny store byv_ owt he sez he’s at t’ _beck -an’ call_ ov ivverybody; an’ he’s _fo’st this road an’ then that_, -whahl yan caan’t pleeace neea dependence on owt ’at he owther sez or -diz.’ - - ‘Reckon’ = think. - - ‘Fits an’ starts’ = erratically and at odd times. - - ‘To lay store by’ = to value, to believe in, trust. - - ‘Beck an’ call’ = to be the servant of any one who beckons or calls. - - ‘Fo’st this road an’ then that’ = first one way and then another, - unstable. - -The following are also commonly heard:— - - ‘To give oneself airs,’ i.e. to ape manners, &c., above one’s station - in life. - - ‘To be despert thrang,’ i.e. being very busy. - - ‘Almost any day’ = at any time. - - ‘Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb,’ i.e. might as well be - punished for committing a big fault as a little one. - - ‘As good luck would have it’ = as good fortune happened. - - ‘Away’ = continue. ‘He may knock away, I shan’t go to the door,’ i.e. - he may continue knocking. - - ‘To fancy oneself’ is to be conceited. - - ‘As matters stand’ = as things are. - - ‘At all events’ = in any case. - - ‘From the bottom of the heart,’ i.e. wholly, absolutely. Ex. ‘I - believe what you say from the bottom of my heart.’ - - ‘Cut an’ come again’ = help yourself; when you have eaten that, have - more. - - ‘Dragged by wild horses,’ torture in any form. ‘I wadn’t ‘ tell’d owt; - neea, Ah’d ’a’e been dragged aboot wi’ wild hosses fost;’ i.e. I would - have been put to torture first. - - ‘To follow like a shadow’ is to keep close to. - - ‘For my own part’ = to my way of thinking. - - ‘As far as in one lies’ = to the best of one’s ability. - - ‘Not to allow the grass to grow under one’s feet’ is to be very - energetic, diligent in business. - - ‘To be hand and glove with any one,’ is to be very intimately - associated with them. - - ‘For once in a way’ = this time, just once. - - ‘To scrape one’s tongue’ = to talk affectedly. - - ‘To be over head and ears in anything’ = to be completely so—over head - and ears in debt, in love, &c. - - ‘To hang heavy on one’s hands’ = to be difficult to dispose of. - - ‘Not to know whether one is on his head or his heels’ is to be - absolutely bewildered. - - ‘On that score’ = on that account. - - ‘Over and above (ower an’ aboon)’ = more than. Ex. ‘An’ ower an’ aboon - that he sed——,’ and more than that he said——. - - ‘To pour into one’s ears’ = giving information with great unction. - - ‘To quake in one’s shoes (ti quake in yan’s shoon)’ = to be in great - fear. - - ‘Spoil the ship for a happorth of tar’ = penny wise and pound foolish. - - ‘To stir up strife’ = making mischief. - - ‘Stir your stumps,’ or ‘cut your sticks’ = off you go. - - ‘To the top of one’s bent’ = to fully carry out our inclination. - - ‘That’s telling,’ often said after a question has been asked, and - implies, ‘You would like to know, but I shall not tell you.’ - - ‘Up to Dick’ = just as it should be, perfection. - - ‘To be wrang i’ t’ heead’ = being out of one’s mind. - - ‘Not to be worth one’s salt’ = useless. - - ‘To sleep like a top’ = to sleep soundly. - -To conclude. It was said of one, who was somewhat inclined to be a fop, - - - ‘He puts on airs, scrapes his tongue, skews aboot, an’ fancies hissel’ - that mich, whahl he’s mair leyke yan ’at’s nicked i’ t’ heead, an’ - clean daft, ’an owt else; he maay aim ’at he’s up ti Dick, bud Ah aim - ’at he’s nut wo’th his sau’t, an’ Ah’s reet.’ - - -I am certain of one thing—a Yorkshireman, no matter what his position -may be, never quite leaves his Yorkshire behind him. I was standing one -day waiting for the steamer which was to bring me once again to old -England, when a gentleman quite close to me said to his lady companion, -‘It’s a beautiful sight, is the sea[67].’ I turned to him, and raising -my hat, remarked, ‘Ah’s a Yorkshireman an’ all.’ That was enough, we -were friends the whole of the voyage. No, we Yorkshire people cannot, -if we would, leave our county behind us. And thank the gods for that. - - - * * * * * - When cultured speech in tones refined - Lead us to dream all others blind, - ‘Tis well that we should bear in mind, - Though we may leave all else behind, - Our idiom goes with us. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - - SIMILES, PROVERBS, AND SAYINGS - - -The North Riding is very prolific in similes and quaint sayings. I -have by me a collection of some hundreds, varying in degree of point -and humour, but all worthy of being preserved. Many of them take us -back to the time of our grandfathers, speaking of things and pointing -to customs of other days. Still, they hang on the lips of the older -people now; but to those who know nothing of their past, their sayings -seem pointless and out of place. Nevertheless, ‘Ez useless ez damp -tunder’ (tinder) would be as forceful in their day as our saying, ‘As -useless as a damp match.’ In the days when many a pulpit was supplied -with an hourglass—like a huge egg-boiler—to let the preacher know -when to wind up his ‘thirdly,’ the old saying applied to those who -were somewhat importunate, ‘They hint ez plaan ez t’ hoorglass,’ and -‘Sha’s leyke t’ hoorglass—sha uses t’ same thing ower an’ up agaan,’ or -‘Sha’s ez careful ez a sandglass,’ which never wastes a grain, were in -their day as pointed as any in use at the present time. A few remarks -to elucidate the meaning of those in the following list which may be -somewhat obscure to any lacking knowledge on certain points, will be -found on page 243. - -Those marked thus ([+]) are in daily use throughout the riding. Thus -(*), explanatory remarks will be found at the end. - - 1. Ez wise ez t’ ullot. - - [+] 2. Ez hungry ez a dog. - - [+] 3. Ez patient ez a cat. - - [+] 4. Ez whisht ez a cat. - - [+] 5. Ez still ez a moose. - - * 6. Ez friendly ez a bram’l bush. - - *[+] 7. Ez walsh ez pump-watter. - - 8. Ez poor ez pauper soup. - - *[+] 9. Ez thick ez inkle-weavers. - - [+] 10. Ez reglar ez clockwark. - - [+] 11. Ez sartin ez t’ cess - getherer. - - 12. Ez scarce ez guineas. - - 13. Ez noisy ez a tinker. - - * 14. Ez common ez a deear-snek. Any one handles it. - - [+] 15. Ez strang ez a steeple. - - [+] 16. Ez hoarse ez a raven. - - [+] 17. Ez soft ez pap, i.e. child’s food. - - [+] 18. Ez stiff ez buckram. - - [+] 19. Ez deead ez a mauky ratten. - - 20. Ez sour ez a sloe. - - [+] 21. Ez deead ez a hammer. - - [+] 22. Ez deeaf ez a post. - - [+] 23. Ez fit ez a fiddle. - - 24. Ez graspin’ ez a toll-bar. - - 25. Ez tall ez a mill chim’ly. - - [+] 26. Ez brant ez a hoos end. - - [+] 27. Ez red ez a cherry. - - [+] 28. Ez tough ez leather. - - 29. Ez seeaf ez a pig ring. - - * 30. Ez soft-hearted ez a rezzil. - - * 31. Ez slape ez a greeasy powl. - - [+] 32. Ez rotten ez touch-wood. - - 33. Ez cruel ez a spider. - - [+] 34. Ez red ez rud. - - [+] 35. Ez lish ez a squirrel. Lish = active. - - [+] 36. Ez friendly ez yan’s shadder. - - [+] 37. Ez hardy ez ling. - - [+] 38. Ez impudent ez a cock sparrer. - - [+] 39. Ez boddensome ez debt. - - [+] 40. Ez bliew ez a whetstone. - - [+] 41. Ez saut ez sea watter. - - [+] 42. Ez strang ez an onion. - - [+] 43. Ez common ez weeds. - - [+] 44. Ez sweet ez t’ floors i’ May. - - [+] 45. Ez sweet ez a posey. - - [+] 46. Ez sour ez a crab-apple. - - *[+] 47. Ez femmur ez a musweb. - - [+] 48. Ez cracked ez a brokken pot. - - [+] 49. Ez polite ez t’ divil. - - [+] 50. Ez pricky ez a pricky-back otch’n. - - 51. Ez soft ez a geease-down pillow. - - [+] 52. Ez common ez brack’ns. - - 53. Ez cheap ez promises. - - [+] 54. Ez cau’d ez Kessamas. - - [+] 55. Ez thrang ez bees iv a sugar cask. - - [+] 56. Ez busy ez bees on t’ moor. - - [+] 57. Ez straight ez a bulrush. Also ‘as tall as,’ &c. - - [+] 58. Ez cheeap ez muck. - - [+] 59. Ez soft ez muck. Also ‘Ez soft ez a wesh-leather.’ - - [+] 60. Ez common ez muck. - - [+] 61. Ez laam ez a three-legg’d dog. - - [+] 62. Ez fast ez a rivet. - - [+] 63. Ez lazy ez a stee. A ladder generally leans against a wall. - - [+] 64. Ez whisht ez yan’s shadder. As quiet as one’s shadow. - - [+] 65. Ez true ez a die. - - [+] 66. Ez mild ez a May morn. - - [+]* 67. Ez tight ez a damp cleeas-line. - - 68. Ez slow ez a stutterer. Also ‘Ez slow ez a snahl.’ - - [+] 69. Ez wick ez a lop-flea. - - [+]* 70. Ez fond ez a yat. - - [+] 71. Ez kittle ez a moose-trap. - - [+] 72. Ez wet ez a dishclout. - - [+] 73. Ez tired ez a dog. - - [+] 74. Ez savage ez a wasp. - - [+] 75. Ez black ez midneet. - - [+] 76. Ez black ez sin. - - [+] 77. Ez hard ez a steean. - - [+] 78. Ez soond ez a bell. - - [+] 79. Ez creeak’d ez a dog’s hind leg. - - [+] 80. Ez wet ez sump. - - [+] 81. Ez wet ez thack. - - [+] 82. Ez mucky ez a pig-sty. - - [+] 83. Ez waak ez a kitten. - - [+] 84. Ez oppen ez a skep. - - [+] 85. Ez bold ez brass. - - [+] 86. Ez lively ez a cricket. - - [+] 87. Ez green ez grass. - - [+] 88. Ez soft ez putty. - - [+] 89. Ez deead ez a teead skin. - - [+]* 90. Ez plaan ez a pike-staff. - - [+]* 91. Ez plaan ez a yat-stoup. - - [+] 92. Ez full ez an egg. - - [+] 93. Ez dusty ez a flour pooak. - - [+] 94. Ez white ez flour. - - [+] 95. Ez mucky ez a duck pond. - - [+] 96. Ez larl ez a flea-bite. - - [+] 97. Ez still ez a finger-post. - - [+] 98. Ez lonely ez a mile-steean. - - [+] 99. Ez slape ez an eel. - - [+]* 100. Ez good-natur’d ez a pump. - - [+] 101. Ez pure ez spring-watter. - - [+] 102. Ez reight ez a trivet. - - [+] 103. Ez thin ez a bubble skin. - - [+] 104. Ez sticky ez glue. - - [+]* 105. Ez meean ez bo’d-lahm (birdlime). - - [+] 106. Ez hard ez a nail. - - [+] 107. Ez cau’d ez ice. - - [+]* 108. Ez deep ez a well. - - [+] 109. Ez strang ez a hoss. - - [+] 110. Ez wet ez a mill-wheel. - - [+] 111. Ez fond ez a goose nick’t i’ t’ heead. - - [+] 112. Ez lang ez a parson’s coat. - - * 113. Ez sartin ez t’ thorn-bush. - - * 114. Ez waffly ez a mill-sail. - - * 115. Ez soft ez butter. - - 116. Ez empty ez a blawn egg. - - [+] 117. Ez rank ez nettles. - - [+] 118. Ez blinnd ez a bat i’ daayleet. - - [+] 119. Ez damp ez a cellar, or ‘t’ graav.’ - - [+] 120. Ez breet ez a new-made pin, or ‘ez sunleet.’ - - [+] 121. Ez fond ez a brush. - - [+] 122. Ez greedy ez a rake. - - [+] 123. Ez dhry ez a sarmon. - - 124. Ez tho’sty[68] ez a sponge. - - [+] 125. Ez solemn ez a coo. - - [+] 126. Ez breet ez a bald heead. - - [+] 127. Ez bare ez a bald heead. - - [+] 128. Ez roond ez a bullet. - - [+] 129. Ez straight ez trewth (truth). - - [+] 130. Ez mad ez a bull at a yat. - - [+] 131. Ez phrood ez a banty cock. - - [+] 132. Ez flat ez an iron. - - [+] 133. Ez poor ez moorland. - - [+] 134. Ez hard ez t’ to’npike. - - [+] 135. Ez nak’t ez a graav-steean. - - [+]* 136. Ez strang ez a teeagle chaan. - - [+]* 137. Ez tough ez a swipple. - - [+] 138. Ez strang ez an oak. - - [+]* 139. Ez warm ez a sheep-net. - - [+]* 140. Ez catching ez t’ scab. - - [+]* 141. Ez bonny ez a sheep-cade. In ridicule. - - [+] 142. Ez drunk ez a fiddler. - - * 143. Ez thrang ez a cobbler’s Monday. - - 144. Ez meean ez a cuckoo. The cuckoo lays its eggs in other birds’ - nests. - - [+] 145. Ez welcome ez t’ floors i’ May. - - 146. Ez larl wanted ez rain i’ hay-tahm. - - [+] 147. Ez hungry ez a dog. - - 148. Ez glib ez a leear’s tongue. - - [+] 149. Ez wo’thless ez an au’d shoe. - - 150. Ez larl value ez an au’d hat. - - [+] 151. Ez tough ez pin-wire. - - * 152. Ez neyce ez an otter[69]. - - [+]* 153. Ez greedy ez an otter[69]. - - 154. Ez fat ez a tailor’s goose. (The ‘goose’ is a tailor’s iron.) - - [+]* 155. Ez sweet ez a kern. - - [+]* 156. Ez greedy ez a fox iv a hen-roost. - - [+]* 157. Ez meean ez a cat wiv a moose. - - [+] 158. Ez leyke ez tweea peas. - - [+] 159. Ez bitter ez gall. - - [+] 160. Ez big ez bull beef. - - [+] 161. Ez leet ez a midge. - - [+] 162. Ez limp ez a dishclout. - - [+]* 163. Ez scraped ez a bath-brick. - - * 164. Ez badly used ez a peggy-tub boddum. - - [+]* 165. Ez gam ez a cockroach. - - [+] 166. Ez wet ez new pent (paint). - - [+] 167. Ez sick ez a dog. - - [+] 168. Ez flat ez a pancake. - - * 169. Ez deead ez a red lobster. - - [+] 170. Ez au’d ez my grandfather hat. - - [+] 171. Ez merry ez a May-pole dance. - - [+] 172. Ez white ez a sheet. - - [+] 173. Ez catching ez t’ mezzles (measles). - - [+] 174. Ez bad tempered ez a nettle. - - [+] 175. Awlus t’ saam way leyke a bottle-jack - (ironical, as a bottle-jack turns both ways). - - [+] 176. Ez smooth ez a cat’s back. - - [+] 177. Ez rosy ez an apple. - - [+] 178. Ez rotten ez (a bad) to’nip (turnip). - - [+] 179. Ez bent ez a sickle. - - [+] 180. Ez red ez raw beef, or ‘ez a brick.’ - - [+] 181. Ez thrang ez a woman’s tongue. - - [+] 182. Ez brazend ez a sunflower. - - [+] 183. Ez fresh ez new pent. - - [+] 184. Ez breet ez a seeing-glass. - - [+] 185. Ez wick ez an eel. - - [+] 186. Ez slim ez a barber’s powl. - - No. 6. _As friendly as a bramble bush._ The way in which the bramble - catches hold and clings to one is well known to all those who have had - to force a passage where they grow. - - 7. _As walsh as pump-water_, or containing as little sustenance. - - 9. _As thick as inkle-weavers._ In the weaving of inkle, a kind of - tape, the weavers had to sit quite close together. - - 14. _As common as a door-sneck._ This implies that a sneck is liable - to be pressed or used by any one; the simile is one of an opprobrious - nature. - - 30. _As soft-hearted as a weasel_, implies absolute cruelty, the - weasel lacking the smallest spark of generosity in its nature. - - 31. _As slape as a greasy pole._ It is common at village feasts to - erect a pole daubed thickly with grease, upon the top of which a ham, - a leg of mutton, or a kettle is fixed; he who can climb to the top, - which is a most difficult task, claims the prize. - - 47. _As femmur as a musweb._ ‘Femmur’ is slight, light, slender. - ‘Musweb,’ a spider’s web. - - 49. _As polite as the devil._ His Satanic majesty is said to be - willing to shake hands with any one. - - 67. _As tight as a damp clothes-line._ A clothes-line, when left out - in wet weather, becomes very tightly stretched between its two hooks. - - 70. _As fond as a gate._ The folly of a gate is admitted on all hands; - does it not without any reason bang itself against the gate-post? - - 90. _As plain as a pike-staff_; and 91, _As plain as a gate-post_, - denote both plainness of appearance, and a thing not difficult to - understand. A pike-staff was just a bare pole, and a gate-post is - usually lacking of all ornamentation; and both are fairly conspicuous - objects. - - 100. _As good-natured as a pump._ A pump never grumbles, no matter how - often or by whom it is handled. - - 105. _As mean as birdlime._ It deceives those who rest upon it. - - 108. _As deep as a well._ ‘Deep’ is used in the sense of ‘to hide - from,’ ‘to be difficult to get at the bottom of.’ In a modified sense, - ‘cunning.’ - - 113. _Ez sartin ez t’ thorn-bush._ It was the custom for the parson to - collect the tithe by placing a branch of thorn in every tenth stook, - he choosing the stooks, and sending his cart along for them. - - 114. _As waffly as a mill-sail._ ‘Waffly’ here implies ‘unstable’; the - mill-sail is turned about by every wind which blows. - - 136. _As strong as a teagle chain._ These chains are used to drag very - heavy timber. - - 137. _As tough as a swipple._ The swipple is the short bar of the - flail, used to thresh corn with—by hand—and was always made of the - toughest wood. - - 139. _As warm as a sheep-net._ Used derisively; there is no shelter or - warmth in a sheep-net. - - 140. _As catching as the scab._ The scab is a very infectious disease - which sheep are liable to. - - 141. _As bonny as a sheep-cade._ The cade is a disgusting looking - sheep-louse; hence the simile is used ironically. - - 143. _As busy as a cobbler’s Monday._ It is generally supposed that a - cobbler has to rest over Monday to work off his week’s-end debauch; - hence the simile is one of ridicule. - - 152. _As nice as an otter._ ‘Nice,’ in this case, means dainty, - particular, eating as it does only the very best part of the fish it - kills, leaving the rest untouched on the bank. - - 153. See 152. - - 155. _As sweet as a churn._ A churn, of all things, must be sweet and - clean; hence anything which may be truly said to be as sweet as a - churn, must excel in cleanliness. - - 156. _As greedy as a fox in a hen-roost._ The fox, having gained an - entrance, not only kills the bird he intends to carry away for food, - but any he can lay hold of; then, picking out the best, leaves the - rest. - - 157. _Ez meean ez a cat wiv a moose._ ‘Mean’ is used in the sense of - cruel. The way a cat plays with its victim before killing it, is the - very essence of cruelty. - - 163. A bath-brick must be scraped each time it is used. Hence a person - who has slipped down an incline, and so become bruised, will use the - simile. - - 164. _As badly used as a peggy-tub bottom._ Surely whilst in use - nothing receives more thumps than the bottom of the peggy-tub. - - 165. _As game as a cockroach._ No insect perhaps is so pugnacious as - the common roach or black clock. The encounters which take place on - our hearths after we have retired to rest are many and deadly. - - 169. _As dead as a red lobster._ As the lobster must be boiled for - some time before assuming the red colour, we may with some certainty - conclude the crustacean has ceased to exist ere it dons its red jacket. - - -If many of the sayings which fall from the lips of our country folk -were only dressed in classic language, they would rank amongst the -wisest saws ever uttered. - -Take a few illustrations picked from a considerable number which I have -jotted down as they have been uttered—I may say the circumstances which -called each forth were as varied as they well could be. Some, I have -little doubt, were impromptu, but in the main they belong to another -age. It will perhaps add interest if the illustrations are given as -uttered, followed by a literal translation, adding explanatory remarks -when needful. - - _A raffle tung an’ a race-hoss gan t’ faster t’ leeter wight tha hug._ - A foolish tongue and a race-horse go the faster the lighter weight - they carry; there will be more foolish talk, the lighter the weight of - brains carried. - - _Them ’at grumm’ls sae mich aboot what tha ’evn’t gitten, are maistly - oot o’ love wi’ t’ things ’at tha ’ev._ Those who grumble so much - about what they do not possess, are mostly out of love with the things - they have. - - _Them ’at nivver diz nowt thersens, awlus ’magines ’at ther’s nowt i’ - t’ wo’lld ’at’s hard ti deea._ Those who never do nothing (anything) - themselves, always imagine that there is nothing in the world which is - hard to do. - - _Him ’at’s gitten his heead screwed on t’ reet road i’ larl matters, - weean’t be leykly ti shut yah e’e when he’s owt gert on hand._ He who - has his head screwed on the right way in little matters, will not be - likely to close one eye when he has anything great on the way. - - _Impatience is t’ hoss fau’k saddle and gallop on ti meet their - troubles._ Impatience is the horse people saddle and gallop on to meet - their troubles. - - _It’s easier wark feighting sin ’an nursin’ ‘t._ It is easier work - fighting sin than nursing it. - - _Religion is offens mair laamed byv those whau attend tul ’t, ’an them - ’at feight shy on ’t._ Religion is often more injured by those who - profess, than by those who are careless. There is another: ‘No sinners - are so intolerant as those just turned saints.’ - - _Yan awlus ’ez ti paay a seet mair foor repentance ’an yan c’u’d ‘ - bowt a vast o’ common sense wi’._ One always has to pay a great deal - more for repentance than one could have bought a great amount of - common sense with. - - _If wa wad lig i’ peace an’ rest, - Wa mun see an’ hear an’ saay what’s t’ best._ - If we would lie in peace and rest, - We must see and hear and say what’s the best. - - _‘T’ll save ya neea larl trouble, - If when talking ya tak care - Ov whaum ya speeak, ti whaum ya speeak, - An’ hoo, an’ when, an’ wheer._ - - It will save you no small trouble, - If when talking you take care - Of whom you speak, to whom you speak, - And how, and when, and where. - - _Closed lips an’ oppen een save yan fra monny a fratch._ Closed lips - and open eyes save one from many a quarrel (trouble). - - _Advising yan ’at’s iv a passion’s dafter ’an scrattin’ a tup head._ - Advising one that is in a passion is sillier than scratching a tup’s - head, i.e. giving advice to one who is in a passion, is equal in - folly to that of scratching a tup on the head, as there is no surer - way of inducing it to attack you than by following such a course. - - _Him ’at’s meead up his mahnd ’at he caan’t deea a thing, maistly maks - up his mahnd afoorhand ’at he weean’t try._ He that has made up his - mind that he cannot accomplish an undertaking, mostly makes up his - mind beforehand that he will not try. - - _Maist fau’k can see t’ wrang they’ve deean, bud nut t’ wrang they’re - deeaing._ Most people can see the wrong they have done, but not the - wrong they are doing. - - _Varra off’ns when a chap sez ’at he’s deeaing nowt, he’s deeaing - summat he s’u’dn’t; an’ when he aims ti mak ya think ’at he’s deeaing - summat ’at he s’u’d, he’s off’ns deeaing nowt._ Very often when a - person says that he is doing nothing, he is doing something that - he should not; and when he tries to make you believe he is doing - something that he should, he is often idling his time away. - - _Daftness nivver builds owght wo’th leaving up._ Daftness never builds - anything worth leaving up. ‘Leaving up’ means ‘allowing it to stand.’ - The saying might be put this way: folly never accomplishes anything - worthy of being handed on to posterity. - - _Fame is a lump ov nowt putten insahd ov a bubble, which bo’sts, - an’ it’s all owered wiv it._ Fame is a lump of nothing put inside a - bubble, which bursts, and then it is all over with it. To ‘be overed - with a thing,’ is for it to be absolutely annihilated. - - _Good luck gi’es ti sum mair ’an what tha owt ti ’ev, bud nivver mair - ’an what tha want._ Good luck gives to some more than what they ought - to have, but never more than what they want. - - _Cussing an’ low-lived talk ther’s nivver neea call for; ther’s nowt - can hap it up, an’ ther’s nowt gitten byv it._ Cursing and low-lived - talk there is never no need for; there is nothing can cover it up, and - there is nothing got by it. - - _Him ’at diz ez he owt ti deea when young, ’ll be yabble ti deea ez - he wants ti deea when his working days is owered._ He who does as he - ought to do when young, will be able to do as he wants to do when his - working days are over, i.e. he who diligently works when young, will - be enabled to take his ease when old age overtakes him. - - _Them ’at weds wheer they deean’t love, maistly love wheer they - deean’t wed._ - - _It’s a poor hedge ’at hezn’t a bit of shelter._ - - _Be friendly wi’ all, bud familiar wi’ few._ - - _It saves neea end o’ loss if ya sleck t’ fire wi’ yah bucket o’ - watter. Luke t’ weeds afoor tha seed; an’ let t’ tap-reeat o’ folly - gan ez deep ez it leykes._ It saves no end of harm if you put out - the fire with one bucket of water. Pull up the weeds before they - seed; and allow the tap-root of folly to go as deep as it may. A fire - cannot have done much damage if it can be quenched with one bucket of - water. ‘Luke’ is ‘to pull up.’ Many methods are adopted to prevent the - tap-root from growing deep into the ground; should such precautions - not be taken, the root descends to where the ground is cold, and no - fruit is borne. Hence the reason for desiring the ‘tap-root of folly’ - to be allowed to grow deep into the ground. - - _Good behav’o’r nivver needs a drain-pipe_; also, _good behav’o’r - nivver needs pruning_. - - _He’s nobbut hauf rocked ’at believes ivverything, bud he’s cleean - oot ov his heead ’at believes nowt._ He is only a silly fellow who - gives credence to everything he hears, but he is a hopeless idiot who - believes in nothing. - - _Laziness ruins mair lasses ’an love, fancying thersens mair an’ - laziness; an’ swallering ivverything ’at a chap sez tiv ’em, mair ’an - baith putten tigither._ Laziness ruins more girls than love, vanity - more than laziness; and believing all that men flatteringly say, more - than both put together. - - _Him ’at ’ez larl an’ could mannish wi’ less, is better off ’an him - ’at ’ez mich an’ caan’t mak it fet._ He that has little and could - manage with less, is better off—richer—than he who has much and cannot - make it serve. - - _Nivver judge a blade byv t’ heft._ Never judge a blade or knife by - the handle; or, never judge a person’s character by his clothes. - - _Ya’ll ’a’e t’ crack t’ shells afoor ya can coont t’ kon’ls._ You will - have to crack the shells before you can count the kernels; or, you - must do your work before you can count your wages. - - _Sho’t ez yan’s tahm is, it’s lang eneeaf foor sum ti ruin ther - characters, ther constitutions, an’ gan thruff all ’at tha ’ed at - startin’._ Short as one’s life is, it is long enough for some to ruin - their characters, their constitutions, and ’gan thruff,’ i.e. spend, - all they had to commence with. - - _T’ furrows o’ repentance are ploughed i’ youth, and sow’d wi’ t’ - seeds o’ pleasure, bud t’ harvest ’ez ti be reaped wiv a blunt sickle - when yan’s back is bent an’ yan’s gitten past wark._ The furrows - of repentance are ploughed during youth, and sowed with the seeds - of pleasure, but the harvest has to be cut with a blunt sickle and - gathered in when old age has made it impossible to repair the errors - of youth. - - _Fooak ’at feight ower t’ reet road ti heaven, off’ns finnd oot ’at - t’ far end ’at they’ve deean t’ maist o’ ther jo’ney i’ t’ hedge - boddums._ People who quarrel over creeds and forms discover, when life - is drawing to a close, that often they have foolishly left the narrow - but sure path, to stumble and struggle amongst the thorns and briars - which overhang the ditch by the wayside. - - _T’ loodist shooters i’ t’ fair off’ns ’ez bud larl o’ ther stalls._ - The loudest criers in the fair often have the least on their stalls; - i.e. those who make the most noise in the world generally display the - least common sense. - - _Muschief is a fruit ’at nobbut needs a sho’t summer ti repen ’t_, - i.e. Mischief speedily comes to a head. - - _Ti stop lennin’, start borrerin’_, i.e. To prevent borrowers coming - to you, try to borrow from them. - - _It’s better ’at fau’k s’u’d laugh at ya foor knowing larl aboot owt, - ’an ya s’u’d loss yer brass byv pretending ti knaw owermich._ It is - better that people should laugh at your knowing little about anything, - than you should lose your money by pretending to know too much. - - _When hooap dees, fear’s born._ When hope dies, fear is born. - - _Yan’s nivver afeeard o’ stepping oot o’ t’ waay ti deea a good to’n, - if yan’s on t’ reet waay foor deeaing on ’t._ One is never afraid of - stepping out of the way to do a kindness, if one is in the right way - for doing it; i.e. we are never unwilling to step out of our way to do - a kindness, if we are sufficiently Christian to do what is right. - - -Since quite a boy I have jotted down any apt saying which I have heard. -Many such, however, are so common, that they daily pass the lips of our -country folk. These characteristic Yorkshire sayings, as already shown, -are worthy of greater consideration than they have hitherto obtained. -Why, I once heard an old Basedale man give a temperance lecture in a -few words; he put the whole thing into a nutshell. What he said was -terse, brief, full of sound common sense, and decidedly smart. _We took -it all away with us._ And just because it was what it was, we never -forgot it—we never wished to forget it—whilst often we have no desire -to remember the one-sided, long-winded, intemperate drivel we have to -listen to nowadays. Said he, ‘Drink, if nobbut weel followed up, awlus -diz yan o’ tweea things. If ya ’a’e gitten plenty o’ brass, it’ll kill -ya; if nut, it’ll beggar ya’; i.e. drink, if only well followed up, -always does one of two things. If you have plenty of money, it will -kill you; if not, it will beggar you. - -‘Some fau’k knaw better ’an ti swing on ther awn yat,’ was said of -one, who was an inveterate borrower of certain articles, which it was -supposed he well could afford to buy for himself. - -‘Sha nivver will larn ’at yan s’u’dn’t hug tweea eggs i’ yah han’,’ was -said of one who generally spoilt what she was doing by having too many -irons in the fire at one time. - -‘Neeabody tries if a trap’s kittle wi’ ther finger.’ The application is -obvious. - -To one who was in the habit of returning at a late hour from the weekly -market, and sometimes not quite sober, it was remarked, ‘Late yam fra -t’ market off’n spoils a good bargain,’ implying that that which had -been gained by the day’s bargaining had been foolishly spent in the -public-house. - -‘He’s yan o’ them ’at nivver hauf diz owt, bud then Ah’ve notished ’at -them ’at leeavs t’ hoos deear oppen, maistly foorgit ti steck t’ yat.’ - - ‘Mair kindness, less lip, - Mair corn, less whip,’ - -might well be hung up in every stable to-day, for certainly if our poor -dumb servants were treated a little more kindly, they would need less -shouting and bawling at, and when properly fed, the whip becomes but an -ornament. - -‘Onny shufflin’ taal diz ti shak off a needy relation, bud it dizn’t -mak ’t reet foor ’em ti squander brass ti greease thersens wi’,’ said -an old body who had asked assistance from a well-to-do sister, but who -had been sent empty away with a most frivolous excuse. It seems her -sister had shortly afterwards given a handsome donation at the laying -of a foundation-stone upon which her name had been carved. ‘Shufflin’ -taal’ is equal to ’half a lie,’ or, to put it in a milder form, ‘a poor -excuse.’ ‘To shak off’ is ’to refuse’; and ’to grease yersen’ is ’to -please oneself,’ ‘to satisfy one’s vanity.’ The saying might be put -this way: ‘By the rich, any poor excuse is considered good enough to -refuse help to a needy relation, but it is never just, whilst such are -in want, to spend money in tickling their own vanity.’ - -‘T’ week ’ez tweea Mundaays foor t’ hoss ’at ligs ower Sundaay,’ -implies that a Sunday’s rest gives greater energy. - -‘Nivver tackle what ya caan’t deea, bud allus deea what ya tackle,’ -is certainly an aphorism we should all do well to mark; the caution -and advice which it contains, if acted upon, spells success in golden -characters. ‘Do not undertake anything beyond either your capabilities -or resources, but whatever you once set your hand to, carry it through.’ - -At a funeral feast where one individual was rather too ready in handing -the cake and wine round, one old body was overheard to say, ‘He mebbe -wadn’t ‘ been seea riddy wi’ t’ plate an’ bottle ’ed he been iv his -awn hoos, bud it maistly happens ’at them ’at’s seea free wiv uther -fau’k’s hay, are varra skinny wi’ ther awn corn.’ That many people are -exceedingly generous in dispensing the charity of others, and very -careful in parting with anything of their own, is a fact too patent to -dispute. - -‘T’ chap ’at fishes for his breccus off’ns ’ez ti wait foor his -dinner,’ and ‘A blinnd chap owt nivver ti lake wiv a crab whahl it’s -boil’d,’ point their own moral. - -At Great Ayton two neighbours were discussing one who had not long been -a resident. ‘Sha’s gitten a pianer noo, an’ it’s nobbut t’ other daay -’at sha bowt hersen new shades’ (blinds) ‘foor ivvery windther i’ t’ -hoos. Wheer sha gits t’ brass ti pay foor all t’ new-fengl’d things ’at -cum up, Ah deean’t knaw, bud sha queerly cam, an’ sha’ll queerly gan; -an’ Ah’ll tell tha what, a hoos gitten tigither by habs an’ nabs, an’ -yan’s sticks paid foor afoor they’re fetched in, is comfortabler ’an -yan filled wi’ flee-by-neet stuff;’ i.e. furniture, &c., got together -at odd times and in odd ways, and paid for at the time, affords more -comfort than possessing a houseful of things which possibly will have -to be removed during the night to escape the landlord. - -‘T’ yard’s weel swept wiv a lent bizzum;’ or, one does not fail to get -the most out of any article which another has lent us. The following -doggerel gives a phase of human nature common to all mankind:— - - - Yan nivver thinks ’at t’ egg’s new laid - Yan’s nahbor kindly lent yan, - An’ t’ cream fra borr’ed milk is thin— - Deean’t len’, if you’d content yan. - - -‘Sha allus drives ivverything whahl t’ last bat. Ya caan’t insense it -intiv her ’at them ’at git ther traps tigither iv a hugger-mugger, -allus foorgits t’ main thing ’at tha’ll want.’ This is a truism the -world over. If we leave our packing to the last moment, we shall -probably discover the very thing we mostly need has been left behind. -Equally apt was the saying of one discussing a doubtful proceeding of -some comrade: ‘He’ll deea ’t whahl they catch him. It’s a mistak at -onny tahm ti sneeaf t’ cann’l ti cleease ti t’ wick.’ It is a mistake -to snuff the candle too close to the wick, for in so doing you may -extinguish the light; i.e. it is unwise to tempt Providence. - -‘They’ve baith pulled yah road; he’s raxed an’ wrought, an’ sha’s -scratted an’ tew’d; what yan thowt t’ other did, whahl i’ t’ end tha -want foor nowt. Bud a breet shool an’ a well-worn thimm’l allus mak a -menseful hoos,’ ‘Raxed’ and ‘wrought’ are synonymous of working hard, -and to ‘scrat and tew’ is to be careful and ever toiling. ‘What one -thought the other did’ only strengthens the opening statement that -‘they both pulled one way.’ To ‘want for nothing’ is to possess all one -needs; and ‘a bright shovel and a well-worn thimble’ clearly show that -neither are allowed a lengthy rest. - -‘It taks mair ti keep a pack o’ hounds ’an t’ damage t’ fox diz,’ can -be, and is, applied so variously that explanation is needless. - - - Deean’t be ti pawky. - Think on, thoo mun knaw - If thoo starts wiv a chirp - Thoo mud end wiv a craw, - Bud if thoo’s seea feealish - Ez ti be pawky an’ pert, - Maist leyke thoo’ll start wiv a craw - An’ end up wiv a chirp. - - -The Yorkshireman is not one who believes in luck. Hard work, toil from -early morn till night, is the daily lot of thousands. ‘Luck!’ said one; -‘ther is neea sike thing ez luck; what cums ti yan, ’ez ti be fetched. -Good luck’s t’ best gitten at wiv a wet sark,’ i.e. with a shirt wet -with perspiration through working hard. But hard work, if not applied -in a proper and sensible manner, will result in failure: brute force -is not everything. ‘T’ thickness gans for nowt if t’ roape isn’t lang -eneeaf;’ i.e. the strength of a rope goes for nothing if it is too -short. - -Can better advice be given than is couched in the old saying of -‘Deean’t saay nowt on t’ deearstan at’ll rax ya ti preeave ower t’ -thresho’d’? It is only one stride from the doorstep over the threshold, -therefore it will be wise at all times to say nothing which will cause -you infinite trouble to prove immediately afterwards. - -The old saying, ‘Buckles borrow, brussen tag-holes beg,’ clearly points -that our fore-elders had a pretty correct notion of human nature in -their day. The short saying embodies much. If the status of those who -needed assistance was such that they could afford to wear nice buckles -on their shoes, such obtained help under the head of borrowing; but of -those whose lace-holes were burst, and buckles altogether wanting, it -was said they begged. Appearance goes a long way towards giving a name -to our actions. - -Again, ‘Pull t’ bobbin wi’ joy, bud knock wi’ sorrow,’ and ‘Ill news is -shooted ti t’ reeaks, bud good news is whispered ti snahls[70],’ both -tell the same story. In olden days a bobbin, attached by a string to -the sneck within, hung outside every door. The saying urges us to haste -with all speed to pull the bobbin and enter if we have good news, but -with sorrow we are to be careful as to how we make it known. Again, an -evil report, it would seem, has ever been urged on its hurtful career. -The rook is a bird which is not only noisy, but flies far afield, -whilst, as every one knows, the snail is silent and slow; but the -truth of the old saying that ‘Evil news is shouted to the rooks, whilst -good tidings is only whispered to the snails,’ is, we fear, as true -to-day as when first uttered ages ago. - -I will close this chapter with a few truisms, which fail to be hidden -in the doggerel:— - - - IF. - - ‘Twar a varra neyce wo’lld ’at wa live in, - An’ bonny it still mud be maad, - If prahd an’ au’d Harry wad give in, - An’ pafty fooak putten i’ t’ shaad. - If t’ pawky war nobbut all maastthered, - An’ swaimish fooak nut ower green, - Sum neeams wadn’t then be seea plaastered, - An’ things wad be mair what tha seeam. - If scann’l war shun’d leyke a hag-wo’m, - An’ fooak awlus thowt, ‘foor tha spak, - Wa s’u’d aim ti deea all a good to’n, - Whahl ill-will wad tak off iv a crack. - If ti illify, spite an’ sike uthers - C’u’d be deng’d cleean off t’ feeace o’ t’ yeth, - Wa sud live mair leyke sisters an’ bruthers, - An’ ‘ev mair ov innocent mirth. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - - CHILDREN‘S LORE - - -The North Riding is peculiarly rich in children’s lore. I remember when -a lad it was considered unlucky to hold a third place whilst crossing a -stream. To overcome the difficulty, two would walk abreast, rather than -cross last as third boy. A boy was not considered a true grammarian[71] -until he had been subjected to the orthodox rule of bumping; and any -boy appearing in a new garment had to submit to ’nips for new,’ each -one giving him a nip to ‘handsel’ the new garment. I remember, too, -it was considered unlucky to write one’s name in a new book with a -borrowed pen. And whilst any one had hold of wood, and cried ‘Queenie,’ -or wet his finger, calling out ‘I’m wet,’ such for the time being was -secure from receiving the last tig (bat or touch) on parting for the -night—a most desirable point of vantage to gain in those days. But, be -it remembered, this last tig had to be given on the skin, not on the -jacket, or the boy would call out, ‘I wasn’t born with my clothes on.’ - -To possess a white ally-taw was considered most lucky, a considerable -number of marbles always being offered in exchange, though it was -only dire poverty which would render such a transaction possible. One -hears the same words and terms used now which thirty years ago came so -glibly from our own lips, and how long before that, goodness knows; -but old men tell us that they played the same games with the same -terms and laws which govern them now. I remember seeing the look of -astonishment which came into a South-country man’s face as some boys -rushed out of school to their usual ground, shouting at the top of -their voices, ‘Bags Ah fuggy, bags Ah seggy, thoddy thoddy’; and from -another, ‘Fowrt! fowrt! fowrt!’ whilst a small scrap of a mortal yelled -at the top of his voice, ‘An’ Ah bags laggy, Ah bags laggy.’ Then it -was demanded, ‘What’s t’ steeak?’ ‘Tweea a go,’ was the response, after -which the game commenced, only to be followed by such expressions -as—‘Backs neea flies;’ ‘Ah bags brush;’ ‘Ah sed neea brush;’ ‘Noo, -then, neea fullocking;’ ‘Here, thoo’ll ’a’e ti gan ower agaan, thoo -ramm’d.’ And then up crept a bully of a boy, who screamed ‘Brulley,’ -snatching every taw out of the ring and running off with them. And -really, after all, one need not be very much surprised if a southern -visitor does fail to understand what the boys are talking about. But -then our lads would be equally at sea, and find it just as difficult to -understand such a sentence as the following:—‘Oi’ll ketch yer one on -yer blooming bouko, if yer deoun’t ’old yer bally reow.’ One is north, -the other south, that is all—at least, nearly all. - -For what untold ages our children’s methods of counting-out have -existed, it would be difficult to say. Some owe their birth to the -times of the Reformation, when with a truly Christian spirit all -things Romish were consistently or otherwise jeered at[72]; others to -still earlier days, and a few to times remote. Take as an example the -following:—‘Ena, tena, tethra, pethra, pimps; sarfra, larfra, ofra, -dofra, dix; ena dix, tena dix, tethra dix, pethra dix, bumpit; ena -bumpit, tena bumpit, tethra bumpit, pethra bumpit, sigit—you’re out.’ -Again it is repeated till another is out, and so on until only two -remain, and then the last one is counted out. - -The above is not very common, but still it lives; it is perhaps one of -the oldest methods which has survived. Doubtless, during the centuries -through which it has lived, as might be expected, many of the words -have lost their original sound. It would seem to date from those days -when a mixed race had for some time lived peaceably together, if ever -such a thing did happen. The children know it, and that is all. Let us -take the first ten words; I will leave my readers to form their own -conclusions. - - - FROM ONE TO TEN IN VARIOUS LANGUAGES. - - SIMILARITIES ONLY GIVEN. - - _The - Children’s _Welsh._ _Anglo-Saxon._ _Old High _Modern _Gothic._ - Form._ German._ German._ - 1. Ena ... ... Ein ... ... - 2. Tena(1) ... Tu ... ... ... - 3. Tethra Tair ... ... ... ... - 4. Pethra Pedwar ... ... ... ... - 5. Pimps Pump ... Finfe Funf ... - 6. Sarfra ... ... ... ... Saihs - 7. Larfra ... ... ... ... ... - 8. Ofra ... ... Ohto ... ... - 9. Dofra ... ... ... ... ... - 10. Dix Deg ... ... ... ... - - 1: Probably this is the old form of two ones, for twice, hence _tuena_ - or _tena_. - - -The comparative study of children’s lore proves, perhaps more -conclusively than that of anything else, how local circumstances in all -things compel both alteration and modification. Our American cousins -have retained with commendable accuracy most of the lore belonging to -the old country; but as in some cases the nasal twang has altered the -sound of words, so local and national peculiarities have influenced and -modified them in others; it must, however, be admitted not to any vital -extent. As an example of what I mean, take the following. - -There is a very common girls’ game not only in the North Riding, but in -most parts of England, called ‘Jennie o’ Jones.’ It is a singing game. -One verse runs:— - - - Red is for the soldiers, - For soldiers, for soldiers; - Red is for the soldiers, - And that will never do. - - -Now, the American soldiers are not dressed in red coats, but some years -ago their firemen were; this fact enabled the American girls (God bless -’em!) to shape the song so as to meet their case. So, without any other -alteration worth noticing, they sing and act the song through just -the same as our English bairns, until they come to this verse, and -then, from one end of America to the other, where the Anglo-Saxon race -predominates, they sing— - - - Red is for the firemen, - For firemen, for firemen; - Red is for the firemen, - And that will never do. - - -But to return to our counting-out games, some of which, by-the-way, -originally were curses and anathemas, but as now sung by our children -the original is lost in a meaningless jargon, often being devoid of -rhyme, but always possessing rhythm. Many such are undoubtedly little -else than so much gibberish, but in a few cases the rhythm is hoary -with age, and possibly in the long past was listened to with awe and -trembling. A very old and widely spread counting-out rhyme runs as -follows:— - - - Eary, ory, hickory, on, - Philson, Valson, Dickson, John, - Squeaby, Squaby, Irishman, - Stiggerum, staggerum, buck[73]. - - -The above is the North Riding version. - -The American children sing:— - - - One-ery, two-ery, ickery, Ann, - Fillisey, fallisey, Nicholas, Jan; - Quiver, quaver, English Knave-a[74], - Stringleum, strangleum, Jericho Buck. - - -One other:— - - - Ena, mena, mina, mo, - Catch a beggar by the toe; - If he squeals, let him go, - Ena, mena, mina, mo. - - -Again notice the difference local circumstances give. The American -children sing:— - - - Ana, mana, mina, mo, - Catch a nigger by the toe; - When he hollers, let him go, - Ana, mana, mina, mo. - - -Of children’s games no further notice can be taken, interesting though -they be. To nursery stories, however, a short space must be devoted. - -It is difficult now to discover in many of them any trace of religion, -stories of the gods, or witchcraft, but the roots from which many of -them spring were in existence thousands of years ago, and flourished in -far-off lands. The similarity these stories bear to the myths of other -countries greatly help in tracing that connecting link which shows the -relationship of one race to another, when nearly all other landmarks -and finger-posts have vanished[75]. - -Admitting the difficulty of assigning to every story its myth-root, it -is easy enough in most cases to see the moral. - - - THE LITTLE CROOKED OLD WOMAN AND THE PIG. - - A little crooked woman had a little crooked broom, - She found a crooked sixpence when sweeping her little crooked room. - She set her off to market, which was a crooked mile, - Along a crooked pathway with a little crooked style; - With her little crooked sixpence a little pig she bought, - And with a band tied to its crooked leg, her homeward way she - sought[76]. - - -All went well until she came to the bridge quite near to her own little -cottage, but this the pig refused to cross. At that moment a stick -came by, and the little old woman called out, ‘Stick, stick, beat the -pig; for the pig won’t go over the bridge, and I shall never get home -to get my old man his supper ready.’ The stick declined to help her, -leaning itself against the bridge end. Then came by a dog. To it she -cried, ‘Dog, dog, bite the stick; for the stick won’t beat the pig, -the pig won’t go over the bridge, and I shall never get home to get my -old man his supper ready.’ But the dog refused to do any such thing, -sitting down near by the stick. Just then a bull came along. ‘Bull, -bull,’ she shouted, ’toss the dog; for the dog won’t bite the stick, -and the stick won’t beat the pig, and the pig won’t go over the bridge, -and I shall never get home to get my old man his supper ready.’ But the -bull refused to give her any help, placing himself near to the dog. -From a butcher’s boy passing at the moment, she begged assistance, -urging him to kill the bull, telling him how the bull, dog, and stick -had all refused to help her to induce the pig to cross the bridge, -winding up with the sad assurance, that ’she would never get home to -get her old man his supper ready’; but the lad only laughed at her, -he taking his stand by the side of the bull, waiting to see how she -would manage. Next came along a horse, which she besought to kick the -boy, as the boy would not kill the bull, and the bull would not toss -the dog, &c.; but still she fared no better, the horse standing by the -side of the boy. Next a fire sprang up in the hedge bottom; this she -implored to burn the horse, as the horse would not kick the boy, and -the boy would not kill the bull, &c. The fire, like the rest, refused -all help, quietly burning where it was. Then she begged of the stream -to sleck the fire, as the fire would not burn the horse, &c.; but the -water ran peacefully on, heeding not her prayers. Then she heard in the -distance the sound of a mighty wind; to this she prayed, ‘O wind, dry -up the brook; the brook won’t sleck the fire, the fire won’t burn the -horse, the horse won’t kick the boy, the boy won’t kill the bull, the -bull won’t toss the dog, the dog won’t bite the stick, the stick won’t -beat the pig, the pig won’t go over the bridge, and I shall never get -home to get my old man his supper ready.’ Then came a voice amongst the -trembling leaves as the coming wind sighed through them, ‘I will dry up -the brook.’ Then said the brook, ‘Before I’ll be dried up I’ll quench -the fire.’ The fire at once cried out, ‘Before I’ll be quenched I’ll -burn the horse.’ The horse neighed, ‘I’ll kick the boy before I’ll be -burnt.’ The boy declared, ‘Before I’ll be kicked I’ll kill the bull.’ -The bull said, ‘Before I’ll be killed I’ll toss the dog.’ The dog -declared, before it would be tossed it would bite the stick. The stick -at once offered to beat the pig, at which resolution on the stick’s -part the pig said, ‘Before I’ll be beaten I’ll go over the bridge’; and -so it did, and the old woman got home and made her old man his supper. - -It was not until the old lady besought the aid of Woden, that her -petition was granted. Little doubt can exist that, as told in the -north, the approaching storm-wind represents that god[77]. - -The next story, under various garbs, is told to the little folks in -nearly every corner of the earth. The connexions between the various -forms and alterations (which different local peculiarities have -demanded) are not difficult to trace, as the connecting links are all -there. Possibly its root originated in the far East. Though our version -comes from the Scandinavian race, they learnt it from some other -nation, probably Germany. - - - NORTH RIDING VERSION OF THE BOY AND HIS WAGES. - - A boy once had a very cruel step-mother; so cruel was she, that the - lad determined to run away. In the end he did so, and hired himself to - a farmer. Now when a year had passed, the kind farmer gave the lad for - his wages an ass which dropped gold. Off home went the boy, driving - his ass in front of him. On coming to a wayside inn, the landlord - asked him why he did not ride such a fine-looking ass. The lad in - reply foolishly told Boniface that his ass was much too valuable a one - to ride; adding, ‘Would you ride an ass that dropped gold?’ To this - the man asked him to make it drop gold where it stood. The boy wisely - explained that it was only when nature’s call had to be obeyed that - it did so, and quite beyond his power to command it. Whilst the boy - was having refreshment, the ass was put in the stable, the landlord - keeping his eye on it; before the lad had eaten and rested, evidence - was given that he had spoken nothing but the truth. It happened the - landlord had a very fine ass of his own; this he fetched from the - field, and whilst the lad slept he groomed it, trimmed its ears and - tail, and blacked its hoofs, till in the end it exactly resembled - the gold-dropping one. This he took away and hid, putting his own - ass in its place. The boy never noticed it was a changeling which - he was driving home. On his arrival he told his step-mother what a - treasure he had brought her. Hearing such good news, she received - him kindly, giving him a supper of fried eggs and bacon. For three - days he was, as she told him, treated like a prince; but the third - morning, instead of his breakfast, she gave him a worse thrashing than - ever, and turned him to the door, calling him all the names she could - lay her tongue to. He returned to his master, who kindly received - him, and on the completion of his second year’s labour, gave him for - his wages a hamper, which every day, on the command being given to - fill itself, would be found packed with choicest food, sufficient - to feed a large household. Again he stopped at the inn on his way - home; calling for a glass of beer, he ordered the hamper to fill. On - beholding such a wonderful hamper, the landlord determined to steal - that also, so whilst the lad slept, he took it away, replacing it - with one of his own exactly similar. To the lad’s discomfiture, the - fraud was discovered the moment he returned home. Once again he was - severely beaten and turned adrift. Again his kind master took him in, - and at the end of his third year gave him a bag containing a thick - stick, which on the command being given, ‘Come out, stick, and bend - yourself,’ would immediately leap out and unmercifully thrash the - individual who at the time was holding the bag. On his way home, the - landlord spied him approaching, and with smiles and kind words asked - him in. ‘And, pray, what does your bag contain?’ asked he, as soon - as the lad was seated. ‘The most wonderful thing you ever saw,’ said - he; ‘but let me have a good dinner, and then I will show you.’ The - landlord, thinking to have another good haul, served him with the best - of everything, going even so far as to give him a glass of wine. All - impatience, he waited until the repast was finished. ‘Now,’ said the - youth, smacking his lips, as he swallowed the last bite, ‘stand in the - middle of the room and hold the bag in your hand, and I’ll promise - you the biggest surprise you ever had in your life. That bag is just - wonderful.’ Before the lad had finished speaking, the landlord had - taken his place in the middle of the floor, holding the bag in his - hand. ‘Now open it,’ said the boy—which Boniface did. ‘Why,’ said - he, in a tone of great disappointment, ‘it is only a stick.’ ‘Yes,’ - replied the boy, ‘but it is a wonderful stick. Now just watch what it - can do;’ and then he shouted, ‘Come out, stick, and bend yourself.’ - Immediately the stick jumped out of the bag, and bent itself about - the back of the landlord until he howled with pain. Do what he would, - go where he might, the stick leapt after and beat him, till at last, - almost dead, he cried out, ‘Put it in the bag again; I will return - thee thy ass and hamper,’ which he did. On nearing home, the lad saw - his cruel step-mother waiting for him with a thick stick in her hand. - ‘Wait a while,’ he called, ‘until you see what I have brought you in - my bag.’ Thinking it would be wiser to wait, she laid down her stick, - and let him enter. ‘Now, before I show to you what I have in my bag, - give me a good tea; you can thrash me afterwards quite as well as - now,’ said he. After his tea, he asked the cruel old dame to take hold - of the bag and open it. This she readily did, little dreaming of what - was to follow. Again he shouted, ‘Come out, stick, and bend yourself’; - and for once the old hag knew what a stick laid across the back meant. - She begged, she implored, she promised she would be good and kind to - him, if he would only call off the stick. At last, when he considered - she had been sufficiently punished, he ordered the stick back into the - bag. And from that day she behaved herself in a decent manner. - - -As has been said, there are many forms of this story. This one differs -slightly from that told in the West Riding, and considerably from that -of other countries, but one and all contain the same mythological -essentials. - -The kind master is the all-ruling God. The ass is typical of spring, -yielding that which gives all good things. And the hamper undoubtedly -represents the earth, which is full of all things necessary for -our happiness and existence. But there comes a time when the gods, -displeased with our ungratefulness or other sins, permit evil spirits -to either steal or withhold the good blessings from us; then follows -a chastising of the evil spirits, who are driven away, and the earth -becomes once again plentiful. - -The gold-dropping ass, and in some collateral form the hamper, bag, and -stick, are old friends in Eastern tales, which were told when the world -was very young. Possibly their radicals, if ever discovered, will be -found in some early religious creed. - -Perhaps some student will work out the meaning and application of the -following; it is beyond me. An old servant of ours was taught it by her -grandmother:— - - - There was a man who lived in Leeds, - He set his garden full of seeds, - And when the seeds began to grow, - It was like a garden full of snow; - But when the snow began to melt, - It was like a ship without a belt; - And when the ship began to sail, - It was like a bird without a tail; - And when the bird began to fly, - It was like an eagle in the sky; - And when the sky began to roar, - It was like a lion at my door; - And when my door began to crack, - It was like a penknife at my back; - And when my back began to bleed, - I was dead, dead, dead in_deed_. - - -I remember, when this doggerel was repeated, we all sat round the -kitchen fire, the maid sitting by the table with her hand near the -lighted candle; towards the last few lines her voice would drop, -until, on repeating the last line, it almost became a whisper. With -ears strained, and eyes nearly out of our heads, we awaited the -dramatic _dénouement_, which most of us well knew; but in those days -the excitement never waned, always the same intensity of feeling was -duly worked up, as she repeated in a hoarse whisper, ‘dead, dead, dead -in_deed_,’ extinguishing the light, as she uttered the last syllable -with a fearful shriek, whilst we all yelled in one mighty chorus. -Houses in those days were built, not held together by the tacks in the -carpets and the paper on the wall; such a yell as we gave would have -shaken the ornaments from off every bracket nailed to the walls of a -whole row of modern blown-together domiciles. - - - THE STORY OF THE POOR OLD COBBLER AND THE WICKED KNIGHT. - - There was once a poor old cobbler had twelve children, all girls. He - was quite broken down with the hard work of finding food and clothes - for them. One night, when he was working very late, he suddenly heard - a laugh, and on looking up, saw the queerest little man his eyes had - ever beheld sitting by the stove door. ‘And who may you be?’ inquired - the cobbler, resting from his work. But the queer little man did - nothing but laugh and shake his head. After a while, however, he said, - ‘I have a bit of news for you.’ ‘Good, I hope,’ said the cobbler, - waxing a thread. ‘You won’t think so; there is another daughter - going to be added to your little family,’ chuckled the old chap. On - hearing this, the poor old cobbler fainted; the shock was too much - for him. He had hoped it would be a boy, who would in time grow up - and help him; but a girl! it was too much. However, when he came to - himself, the baby was born, and sure enough the queer little old man - had been right. It was a sweet babe, and when three years old the wee - thing showed promise of growing up to be a most beautiful maiden. - One day, whilst the little lass was playing about the shop door, a - knight rode by; seeing the child, he was struck with her marvellous - beauty. Never before had he seen such beauty and shapeliness of limb - in one so young. As he rode along, he consulted his book of fate, for - he was a wicked wizard knight, and discovered the child was fated - to be the bride of his own son. This he determined should not be. - Turning his horse about, he returned to the cobbler’s shop, and after - some conversation offered him a sum of money, and promised to take - the child along with him, adopt her, and leave her all his wealth. - To this the poor old man agreed, and away rode the knight with the - lovely child in his arms. Now, he dare not kill the child himself, - because the book of fate told him if any one did so before she had - been kissed by the man she would wed, the same should die that day. - So he determined her death should be an accident. Riding to the banks - of the Ouse, he jumped his horse off the bank, leaving hold of the - little lass as he did so. As they sank beneath the flood, she was - washed away, and the wicked wizard left her to her fate. Her clothes, - however, buoyed her up, and as she floated along, she heard a voice - call her by name, and a queer little old man, who was fishing, threw - his line over her, and dragged her to shore. Taking her to a cottage - near by, he gave her in charge of the good wife and her husband, - begging them to take great care of her until he came that way again; - placing a large sum of money on the table to pay for her keep, he - departed on his way. So she lived with these kind people, until she - was eighteen. At this time her many charms of form and face had - become the talk amongst the courtiers at York. To such an extent was - her wondrous beauty famed abroad, that she was even toasted in the - castle. A certain wizard knight, hearing her so extolled, rode out one - day to where she lived. Seeing her standing by the door, he passed - on, and again consulted his book of fate, and discovered she was the - very maiden he had looked upon as drowned years ago. Turning back, - he offered the good woman a large sum of money if she would permit - the maiden to carry a note to his brother who lived at Scarborough - Castle. The dame said it was too far for the maiden to walk; however, - just then a queer little old man drove by with an ass yoked to a cart, - and offered to give the maiden a lift most of the way, so she was - permitted to go. When the queer little old man and the maiden rested - for the night, he stole into her bedroom, and removed the note, which - she had pinned within her chemise for security; so gently was this - accomplished, that she never awoke. He broke the seal and read, ‘Let - the bearer see my son, command him to kiss her, and then cast her - into a dungeon, and let her starve to death.’ ‘I knew,’ muttered the - old man. Returning to the sleeping maiden, he gently pinned within - her chemise another note, with just the same seal on, and written in - exactly the same writing. But written in this note was a command that - the brother should at once marry his nephew to the bearer. In the - morning, when the girl arose, she found the ass, cart, and little old - man had left very early; however, she was quite near to Scarborough, - for never had an ass trotted like the queer little old man’s had done. - On arriving at the castle, she was speedily married to the wizard - knight’s son, and they were as happy as they could be. Two months - afterwards, the father-in-law came to stay at the castle. No sooner - did he behold the bride, than he saw that he had been baulked again, - but he held his peace. Early next day he met his daughter-in-law in - a wood: she had been seeing her husband off on a hawking expedition. - The wicked knight asked her to walk with him along the shore, and - when they came to a lonely place, he told her she must prepare to - die. Plunging his sword into the sand, he scratched a mark on the - beach, telling her that when its shadow reached that mark, he would - draw it from the sand and run it through her heart. So eloquently did - she plead, and her beauty was so great, that he relented so far as to - offer her her freedom if she would swear to go away and never see his - son again, until she wore upon her finger the ring which he held in - his hand. She swore she would do as he wished if he would only spare - her life. He then by magic art threw the ring into the very middle of - the sea, where it sank. - - Broken-hearted, she left her cruel father-in-law, and wandered far - away, feeling that she would never see her husband again. For more - than a year she travelled from place to place. At last the poor young - wife was engaged as cook by a great baron’s lady. Some time afterwards - her father-in-law and her husband came to stay at the castle. The - very day they arrived, the queer little old man and his cart drew up - at the servants’ door, offering fish for sale. The cook purchased a - large turbot, and on opening it, she found inside it the very ring - which her wicked father-in-law had thrown into the middle of the sea. - She cooked the dinner so well, that the guests begged to see the cook; - to this end she dressed herself in her best gown, put the ring on her - finger, and appeared before them. The wicked knight recognized her at - once, and rushed forward to slay her with his uplifted sword. But the - delighted husband folded her in his arms, so that his father must have - slain both had he dared to strike. Freeing herself from her husband’s - loving embrace, she held up her hand. The knight saw the ring. He then - knew she was guarded beyond the reach of any machinations of his; so - he gave them his blessing, and they all lived happily ever afterwards. - -Although in another form the same story is told by Grimm, and is known -to-day in every country in Europe, originally it was two separate -stories, which have grown into each other. The first part is closely -related to a Swedish and Norwegian story, whilst the second is from a -different root, which is common to many others. One having a strong -resemblance is that of ‘Mageloné,’ and of mythological signification. -Regarding the story itself, I dare not venture an opinion. But the -guardian spirit, in the form of the little old man, comes out much -more strongly in the North Riding version than in that of any other. -Again, the act of throwing the ring into the sea, which was followed by -total darkness being cast over two lives, may be typical of the sun[78] -sinking into the middle of the universe. And the fish bringing it to -light may be symbolical of its rising again; anyway, the act brought -light, life, and hope for the future. I leave it with you—I have only -suggested, not laid my ideas before you as the opinion of one able to -give an _opinion_ on a question of this kind. - -The story of the ‘Golden Ball’ and others are common with us; but they -must be passed by, as space only remains for one other. - - -THE CRUEL STEP-MOTHER AND HER LITTLE DAUGHTER. - - Once upon a time, years and years ago, when animals possessed the - power of speech, a cruel woman lived with a son of her own, and a - little step-daughter of her husband’s whom she hated—but then she was - a wicked step-mother. This poor little girl never knew what it was to - have a kind word spoken to her, though she tried in all things to win - her step-mother’s love, but it was a hopeless task. One day she was - sent to the neighbouring village for some candles, her step-mother - giving her a silver piece, telling her to be sure and bring the change - back. On returning home, she had a stile to climb, and it was such an - awkward stile. There was no other way but to push the candles under - the lowest bar, and then climb over; this she attempted to do, but - when on the topmost rail, a black dog snatched up the candles and ran - off. In great trouble she returned to the grocer’s, and with some of - the remaining money bought another pound of candles; but this time, - when she came to the stile, a white dog ran away with them. Again she - went to the grocer’s, and found she had just sufficient money left - to purchase a third pound. This time she was wiser, and balanced the - candles on the topmost rail; but just as she did so, a great black - bird swooped down and flew away with them. On her return home she told - her cruel step-mother all that had happened. Instead of scolding and - beating her, she told the child to come and rest her head on her knee - whilst she combed her hair; and the cruel woman’s heart was filled - with envy and hatred when she saw the wealth of golden hair which fell - about the child, hiding her from view. ‘Your head tires my knee,’ said - she; ‘fetch in the stick-block, and rest your head upon it whilst I - comb out the cotters[79].’ There really wasn’t a cotter in her hair, - it was only a wicked excuse. Whilst the child was gone for the wooden - block, she took a sharp axe from its nail and hid it under her apron. - ‘Put your head on the block, my dear,’ said she—oh, so kindly—and the - little child, never dreaming what her cruel step-mother contemplated, - laid her head upon the block. Then the cruel woman brought out the - bright sharp axe, and with one blow severed the head from the body. - This wicked step-mother then tore the child’s heart from her little - breast, put it in a pan, and set it upon the fire to boil, whilst - she buried the body. On the father’s return home, she said that his - daughter was chopping sticks. She then offered the father some of the - broth she had made from his own dear child’s heart. He tasted it, but - said he did not like the flavour, and would not drink any more; her - own son refused even to taste it. Next evening, when the father asked - for his little daughter, the woman lied again. She made the excuse - that she had sent her with the carrier to stay with her grandmother, a - great way off, declaring that she would not return for a whole year. - - In a short time, on the very spot where she had buried the child, - there sprang up a most wonderful rose-tree, which bore one large - bud; this presently bloomed into a lovely white rose, when lo! from - its petals, there flew forth a little bird as white as the purest - snow. The bird did not stay in the garden, but flew into the town, - and alighting on the window-sill of a toy-maker, at once commenced - to sing more sweetly than he had ever heard a bird sing before. So - charmed was he that he begged of it to sing again. ‘I will,’ said the - bird, ‘if you will give me the best toy sword you have,’ which he - gladly promised to do. So the bird sang again, and flew away with the - sword to the door of a watchmaker. Here again it sang: this time it - received a gold watch and chain. With this and the sword it flew to - where some stone-masons were working; to them it promised to repeat - its song if they would tie to its neck a large round stone which they - had just finished making. This they readily did, and away it flew, - alighting on the chimney of its former home. After resting awhile, it - rattled the stone against the chimney side, which sounded in the house - like thunder. ‘It thunders down the chimney,’ said the mother; so - the little boy thrust his head under the chimney, to hear better. No - sooner had he done so, than the bird let the sword drop, the leather - belt falling round his neck. ‘See,’ cried the lad, ‘what the thunder - has sent me,’ jumping about with joy. Again the bird rattled the - stone against the brickwork. ‘It thunders again,’ said the father, - thrusting his head into the chimney, when round his neck fell a gold - chain with a beautiful watch attached. ‘And see what the thunder has - sent me,’ said the father, removing the chain from his neck, and - admiring his present. A third time the stone was shaken against the - chimney side. Pushing the other two aside, the cruel step-mother - cried, ‘It is my turn this time.’ So saying, she thrust her head up - the chimney, when the bird let the stone ball drop, which falling on - her head crushed her skull, and she fell back dead on to the kitchen - floor. Such was the sad end of the cruel step-mother. - - -The variety of forms which this story has taken, and its wide -distribution over perhaps the greatest area of any of our early-life -stories, gives it a prominence and distinction second to none. In -many of the stories of other places, the stone ball is described as a -millstone. Possibly this is nearest to the original, as in many early -fables the millstone figures as thunder. But to the eminently practical -mind of the Yorkshire folk, it has been discarded, owing possibly to -the unlikelihood of finding a chimney big enough to admit of its being -dropped down. If its mythological root is somewhat obscure, its close -relationship to other stories hoary with age is as clear as the noonday -sun. - -Passing on to other branches of childhood’s lore, we call to mind the -many charms of our youthful days. Were we stung with a nettle, we at -once searched for a dock-leaf, and rubbing the part stung, repeated -with all due solemnity:— - - - Docken in drahve t’ nettle oot, - Just leyke an au’d dishcloot; - - -or, - - - In docken, oot nettle, - Deean’t let t’ warm blood sattle. - - -The snail-charm is as follows:— - - - Sneeal[80], sneeal, shut oot yer horn, - Or Ah’ll kill yer feyther an’ muther ti morn; - - -or, - - Snahl[80], snahl, cum oot o’ yer shell, - Or Ah’ll bray yer flat wiv a wooden mell. - - -The crow-charm, as sung by the bairns, is:— - - - Craw, craw, flee oot o’ seet, - Or else Ah’ll eat yer liver an’ leet. - - -The rain charm is:— - - - Raan, raan, go away, - Cum agaan anuther daay; - - -or, - - - Raan, raan faster, - T’ bull’s in t’ pastur. - - -It is curious how spitting has come to play such a prominent part as -it has. In certain games of catching, a boy may be quite securely -caught, so far as actual grip is concerned; but until he has been hit -three times on the back, and the operation of spitting over his head -duly carried out, the capture is not fully concluded. Again, when two -boys quarrel, one will be asked if he dare give the other ‘his buff.’ -This is a slight blow, struck on any part of the opponent’s person. -Virtually, it is a challenge. Up to this point, however, the actual -fight may or may not come off. The opponents, if left to themselves, -are still open to arrange matters amicably. But if some boy hold his -finger under the chin of one of them, and ask him ‘if he dare spit -over,’ and some lad make the same demand of the other, and both spit -over, then utter disgrace and obloquy would for ever cling to the boy -who, after the performance of such a sacred rite, dare refuse to do -battle. - -What boy does not yet fully believe that a horsehair, either pushed up -the cane or held in the hand, will split it, so as to render it useless -as a means of correction? And which of us in our younger days did not -accept in full faith the belief that horse-hairs steeped in water -turned to eels. Why, I can well remember the time that every man jack -of us, when we passed Sharrow Cross, always touched the old stone and -wished, and many a pin have I dropped into St. Helen’s Well and done -the same. - - - Rob a Robin, - Go a-sobbing, - - -so we used to say, and for that reason we never stole their eggs—that -is, we did not actually take them out of the nest with our fingers. No, -to save ourselves from sobbing, we poked one out with a stick, and then -picked it up—under such conditions, we found it lying outside. Don’t -smile, please. Grown-up people nowadays round the corners of their -consciences in quite as barefaced a manner, and with fewer qualms. - -Other children’s lore must with reluctance be omitted. May what has -been written be acceptable to them. - - - - - CHAPTER XV - - ODD SCRAPS OF OLD YORKSHIRE, ETC. - - - SONG. [_Published at Bedale, 1800-1815._] - - When Ah war a wee lahtle tottering bairn, - An’ ‘ed nobbut just gitten sho’t frocks, - When ti gan[81] Ah at fo’st war beginnin’ ti larn, - O’ mah bru[82] Ah gat monny hard knocks; - Foor sae waak an’ sae silly an’ helpless war Ah, - Ah war awlus a tumm’ling doon then, - Whahl mah muther wad twattle ma gently, an’ cry, - ‘Honey, Jenny, tak care o’ thisen.’ - - Bud when Ah grew bigger an’ gat ti be strang, - ‘At Ah cannily toddled aboot - Byv mysen wheer Ah leyked, then Ah awlus mud gan - Wivoot being tell’d aboot owt. - When hooivver Ah cam ti be sixteen year au’d, - An’ rattl’d an’ ramp’d amang t’ men, - Mah mother wad call o’ ma in, an’ wad scaud, - An’ cry—‘Huzzy! tak care o’ thisen.’ - - Ah’ve a sweetheart cums noo upo’ Seterdaay neets, - An’ he sweears ’at he’ll mak ma his weyfe; - Mah mam graws seea stingy, sha scauds an’ sha fleets, - An’ twitters ma oot o’ mah leyfe. - Bud sha may leeak soor, an’ consate hersen wise, - An’ preeach ageean leyking young men— - Sen Ah’s a woman, her clack Ah’ll dispise, - An’ Ah s’ marry! tak care o’ mysen! - - - A DIALOGUE BETWEEN TWO YORKSHIRE FARMERS, ON THE INDECENCY OF DRESS - ADOPTED BY FASHIONABLE LADIES. - [_Date about 1800-15. Published at Bedale._] - - - _Simon._ - - Good morrow, Johnny, hoo d’ye deea? - If ya’re ganning mah road, Ah’ll gan wi’ ya. - Hoo cau’d this mornin’ t’ wind diz blaw— - Ah think wa seean s’all ’a’e sum snaw. - - - _Johnny._ - - Aye, Simon, seea wa s’all ere lang. - Ah ’s Bedale wards; Ah wish ya’d gan, - Foor Ah’ve a dowter leeatly deead— - Ah’s boon ti git her coffin meead. - - - _Simon._ - - Heigh! Johnny! deead? Wha, seear, thoo’s wrang, - Foor sha war wiv uz e’er seea lang. - An’ oft wiv her i’ yonder booer - Ah’ve joked and laugh’d full monny an hoor. - Bud fo’st, good Johnny, tell ma this, - What maad her dee? what’s been amiss? - - - _Johnny._ - - Ti tell tha, Simon, noo Ah’s boon. - Thoo sees, Ah sent her ti yon toon - Ti skeeal, an’ next ti larn a traad - Byv which sha war ti arn her breead. - Bud when sha fo’st cam yam ti me, - Sha ’ed neea petticoats, ya see. - Ah fan sha’d larl on bud her smock, - An’ ower that a tawdry frock. - Sike wark ez that, it raised my passion, - An’ then sha telt ma it war t’ feshion. - - * * * * * - - Her hat sa fine to’n’d up afoor, - It made her leeak just leyke—Oh lor! - - - _Simon._ - - Wha, Johnny, stop, thoo’s oot o’ breeath. - Bud hoo cam sha ti git her death? - - - _Johnny._ - - Whya, ho’d a bit, an’ thoo s’all heear. - I’ t’ next pleeace, mun, her breasts war bare; - Her naaked airms, teea, sha mun show, - E’en when t’ cau’d bitter wind did blaw. - Her clock’d hose, ez ower t’ street - Sha tripp’d, sha show’d, a sham’ful seet. - An’ when Ah spak aboot it, then - (Ya see, Ah’s awlus by mysen) - Her muther maistly leean’d her waay— - It matter’d nowt what Ah’d ti seeay. - Ah tell’d mah deeam hoo it wad be, - An’ seea sha caan’t lig t’ blaam o’ me: - Sez Ah, ‘Afoor sha’s twice ten au’d, - Sha’s seear ti git her deeath o’ cau’d.’ - - * * * * * - - Ah’s seear it’s all t’ gert fau’ks’ pursuit - Ti ’ev, like Eve, a birthday suit. - - - _Simon._ - - Thoo’s reet good, Johnny; reet, Ah saay. - That Ah’ve obsarved afoor ti-daay; - Foor t’ maist o’ wimmin nooadaays - Nobbut put on ther goon an’ staays. - An’ noo i’ t’ toon, ez each yan passes, - Ya caan’t ken deeams fra sarvint lasses. - - * * * * * - - - _Johnny._ - - Aye, Simon, thoo sez reet, Ah sweear; - Bud noo, ez Bedale’s drawing near, - Deean’t let on wiv owt Ah’ve sed - Aboot mah dowter ligging deead. - - * * * * * - - - _Simon._ - - Neea, that Ah weean’t; but whahl Ah’ve breeath, - Ah’ll nobbut saay ’sha starved ti deeath.’ - -NOTE. Much of the above has had to be suppressed. - - - SONG. - - T’ LASS FRA LUNNON. - - - Yan nivver ’ed seean sike a yan - Foor dhriss an’ feathers spik an’ span; - Sha war maistly t’ match foor onny man, - War t’ lass fra Lunnon. - Sha c’u’d raffle on, an’ tell a taal - ‘At put i’ t’ shaad Jonah an’ t’ whaal; - Bud sha wadn’t hug a hauf-filled paal, - That lass fra Lunnon. - - Sha c’u’d slather oot a bit o’ Frinch, - An’ sit an’ swing her legs on t’ binch; - Sha warn’t partic’ler tiv a pinch, - Warn’t t’ lass fra Lunnon. - Sha c’u’d sing yan comic songs byv t’ year— - Sike songs yan dizn’t offens hear— - Bud sha wadn’t scrub a kitchen fleear, - That lass fra Lunnon. - - A bisittle sha’d larnt ti rahd; - When dancing, wha, sha seeamed ti glahd; - A chap sha wad ’ev byv her sahd, - Wad t’ lass fra Lunnon. - Her waist war nobbut bud a span; - Sha c’u’d ommaist cum roond onny man, - Bud sha wadn’t cleean a pot or pan, - That lass fra Lunnon. - - Sha c’u’d plaay t’ pianner, sing an’ all; - Sha’d read all t’ luv taals gert an’ small; - Sha war sharp eneeaf foor yan an’ all, - War t’ lass fra Lunnon. - A leet daay’s wark sha wadn’t start, - Ti muck hersen sha ’edn’t heart, - An’ sha c’u’dn’t bake a leeaf or tart, - That lass fra Lunnon. - - Sha’d lig back iv a basket cheear, - An’ fairly cap yan wiv her hair— - Ah’ve seen mah missus stan’ an’ stare - At t’ lass fra Lunnon. - Sha wad laak at crickets leyke a lad, - An’ carry on leyke yan ’at’s mad, - Bud sha wadn’t mend a thing sha ’ed, - That lass fra Lunnon. - - Ah’ve seean her smeeak a larl cigar, - An’ sha didn’t seeam a bit the war, - Bud then sha war a mo’tal star, - War t’ lass fra Lunnon. - Her shoon war oppen doon ti t’ teeas, - Her hat stuck on all macks o’ waays, - Bud sha wadn’t wesh her mucky cleeas, - That lass fra Lunnon. - - Sha’d row on t’ pond just leyke a chap, - An’ iv a net sha’d tak a nap— - Sha didn’t seeam ti mahnd a rap, - That lass fra Lunnon. - Foor fun an’ gam sha seeam’d fair rife, - Bud wark sha wadn’t thruff her leyfe— - Sha’d nivver mak a poor man’s weyfe, - Wad t’ lass fra Lunnon. - - B——. - - - THA‘RE KITTLISH THINGS TI DEEA. - - - Deean’t aim ti stop a bull by t’ e’e, - Deean’t gan far up a rotten stee, - Deean’t ho’d i’ t’ han’ a bumm’l bee— - Tha’re kittlish things ti deea. - - Deean’t tak a straange dog byv its taal, - Deean’t mak yer naabor’s pigs ti squeeal, - Deean’t call yer maaster’s lad a feeal— - Tha’re kittlish things ti deea. - - Deean’t aim ti alter wimmin’s waays, - Deean’t conterdict what t’ maaster saays, - Deean’t hark him back tiv uther daays— - Tha’re kittlish things ti deea. - - Deean’t saay ti t’ muther t’ babby’s plaan, - Deean’t tell a chap his lass is t’ saam, - An’ nivver saay ’at t’ weyfe’s ti blaam— - Tha’re kittlish things ti deea. - - Deean’t drahve a lent hoss ower fast, - An’ when ya’ve wo’ds, deean’t try foor t’ last - Wi t’ weyfe, or else sha’ll ommaist brast— - Tha’re kittlish things ti deea. - - Deean’t gicken when yer betters slip, - Deean’t be ti pawky wi’ yer lip, - An’ frev anuther’s glass deean’t sip— - Tha’re kittlish things ti deea. - - B——. - - - SONG. - - A BLIGHTED YOUNG MAN. - - - Noo stan’s afoor ya a blighted young man - Wheeas leyfe is fast slithering awaay; - Ah’s dowly an’ dwining, an’, deea what Ah mud, - Ah caan’t lig mah troubles awaay. - - - _Chorus._ - - Yance Ah war happy, leetsome, an’ gaay; - Bud Ah gat wed, an’, varra sad ti saay, - Ah seean fan t’ mistak oot, an’ noo ivvery daay - Ah wish Ah war a sing’l young man. - - Ah offens calls ti mahnd noo when Ah war a lad - T’ fussack Ah rade on ti skeeal; - Ah nivver thowt i’ them daays ’at woman sae coy - C’u’d ivver mak a man sike a feeal. - - _Chorus._ - - Aa, bud Ah’s dowly an’ stalled o’ mah leyfe, - Ther’s nowt noo bud waiting for t’ end, - Ah ’livvers up my wages Ah arns ivvery week, - An’ fow’pence sha gi’es me ti spend. - - _Chorus._ - - Ah weshes all t’ taters, Ah maks all wer beds, - Ah fetches all t’ coals in, an’ t’ hearth Ah cleans up; - Ah peeals ivvery onion, an’ monny a tear Ah sheds - Ez Ah sups fra leyfe’s bitter cup. - - _Chorus._ - - Ah diz all t’ possing, Ah hings oot all t’ cleeas, - Ah hugs in all t’ watter, an’, ez ya maay suppose, - Ah meng’ls, Ah irons, Ah diz all ’at Ah can, - Bud Ah’s nowt na mair ner a poor wedded man. - - _Chorus._ - - When Ah went a-courting, sha seeam’d ti be - Ez meek an’ ez mild ez meek an’ mild can be; - Bud ther’s tweea sahds tiv a woman—deea what ya can, - T’ Missus will be t’ maastther of a poor married man. - - B——. - - - NOWT BUD LUV COULD BE. - - - T’ meean war leeaking doon on t’ yeth - Leyke a silver ball yah neet, - An’ stars war twinkling ivver seea, - Whahl t’ sky war all aleet - Wi’ t’ gems ov Heaven up aboon. - Seea gran’ tha leak’d ti t’ e’e, - Yan felt fair capp’d ti think doon there - ‘At owt bud luv c’u’d be; - Foor t’ beetles hum’d ez round tha swirl’d, - An’ t’ crake call’d foor its maate, - An’ t’ bleeat o’ monny lambs yan heeard, - An’ t’ moths can oot ti late - Ther suppers fra some neetly bloom, - An’ t’ wo’lld war fair ti see, - Whahl sumhoo yan felt bet ti knaw - Hoo owt bud luv c’u’d be. - A twittering noos an’ thens yan heeard - Fra t’ larl bo’ds i’ ther nist, - Ez croodled under t’ muther wing - Tha teeak ther neetly rist. - T’ noisy creeaks ’ed geean ti reeast, - Ther war nowt yan c’u’d see - Ti mak it hard upon this yeth - Foor owt bud luv ti be. - Bud whahl yan tried ti mak it oot, - A flittermoose fligg’d by, - An’ t’ ullot’s shadow darken’d t’ grund, - An t’ neet-jar gav its cry, - An t’ fox yapp’d wiv its neease ti t’ grund, - Whahl t’ rezzel slank alang, - An’ t’ rabbit’s squeeal tell’d plaan eneeaf - O’ parlous deed amang - T’ weeak critters, whahl yan ’s forced ti awn - It’s seeam amang wersels— - I’ t’ heart, wheer nowt bud luv s’u’d be, - Unkindness offen dwells. - - B——. - - - * * * * * - - Yan better wed when t’ glamour’s on - Ez wait whahl t’ heart graws cau’d; - It’s better deean i’ t’ spring o’ leyfe - Ez when yan’s grawing au’d. - Yan better wed foor luv ez brass, - Just when oor een is breet; - Yan better wed when toilsome wark - Upon yan’s rig ligs leet. - Yan better fetch wer baans all up, - Whahl ivvery gam tha plaay; - Baith them an’ uz can laak ti t’ end— - It’s better mich that waay. - Yan owt ti be just gahin’ doon t’ hill - Ez tha tak frev uz t’ pleeaf, - An’ if thruff leyfe yan’s deean yan’s best, - Yan’s awlus deean eneeaf. - - B——. - - - * * * * * - - Nivver belder at yer bairns, - Whisht wo’ds is awlus t’ best; - An’ nivver let a tear-drop damp - Ther een when gahin ti rist. - Deean’t let ’em doot yer larlest wo’d, - Bud let ’em ho’d ti be - Nowt else bud t’ trewth iv all ya saay, - An’ let ’em awlus see - ‘At ivverything ya daily deea - Thersels mud pattern tak— - I’ deeaing this, ya’re deeaing mich - Bonny bairns ti mak. - - B——. - - - THE BALLOON. - - _From the Author’s series of Yorkshire Sketches._ - - - ‘What is ’t, mun?’ - - ‘It’s t’ b’loon.’ - - ‘Is ’t t’ thing ’at tha gan up inti t’ sky wiv?’ - - ‘Aye.’ - - ‘Hoo deea tha mannish ’t?’ - - ‘Naay, that licks ma; bud it gans up leyke all that.’ - - ‘What’s ho’ding ’t up noo?’ - - ‘Ah deean’t reetlings knaw. Ah ax’d t’ chap ’at awns ’t, an’ he tell’d - ma ’at it war thrussen up wi’ gas.’ - - ‘Aye, an’ what did thoo saay ti that?’ - - ‘Whya, Ah tell’d him ’at Ah’d cutten my back teeth.’ - - ‘An’ what did he saay then?’ - - ‘Nowt; he nobbut ax’d ma if Ah’d leyke ti gan up wiv him, an’ Ah - tell’d him ’at he wadn’t catch me sailing thruff t’ cloods sitting on - t’ top ov a gert blether, an’ he did nowt bud laugh at ma.’ - - ‘Ah didn’t knaw ’at tha sat on t’ top; Ah awlus thowt ’at tha gat - insahd t’ b’loon. Bud Ah deean’t see hoo tha’d git inteea ’t. Ah’s t’ - maist capped ti knaw what ho’ds ’t up.’ - - ‘Aye, bud what diz ta mak on ’t gahin up byv itsen, when tha let it - off?’ - - ‘Ah deean’t knaw, that’s a capper. An’ thoo sez ’at it gans up leyke - all that?’ - - ‘Seea fau’k saay. Think on, Ah’ve nivver seen yan git awaay wiv itsen.’ - - ‘Ah saay, efter tha’ve gitten ’t up, hoo deea tha mannish ti fetch ’t - doon agaan?’ - - ‘Ah nivver thowt o’ that. Ah wunner hoo tha deea deea ’t. Bud Ah s’u’d - think ’at tha mebbe fling a roap oot an’ swarm doon ’t.’ - - ‘Mebbe, bud Ah’s leathered ti knaw what ho’ds ’t up.’ - - ‘Whya, Ah s’u’d think ’at ther’s mebbe a chap insahd ho’ding it up wiv - a powl’ (pole). - - ‘Aye, mebbe seea; Ah nivver thowt o’ that. What’s that thing; is ’t a - bee-skep?’ - - ‘It leeaks despert leyke yan.’ - - ‘It’s a varra gert un. Mah wo’d, what a swarm it wad ho’d.’ - - ‘Sitha, mun! if tha ar’n’t tying t’ bee-skep ti t’ b’loon; an’ ther’s - a lass gitting insahd.’ - - ‘Ther is, hooivver. Ah nivver seed sike a thing i’ mah leyfe; it - waggles aboot sairly.’ - - ‘Leeaks, ta! Ther’s a chap gitting in noo; depend on ’t, tha’re foor - off.’ - - ‘Tha’re larl better ’an tweea feeals. Ah wadn’t leeave t’ grund tied - tiv a thing leyke that; neea, nut foor a ransom.’ - - ‘Whativver are tha efter noo?’ - - ‘Ah caan’t mak oot.’ - - ‘Bless mah leyfe, tha’re lowsing t’ thing.’ - - ‘Tha are, hooivver. Tha’re gahin’ ti let it off.’ - - ‘Ther’s na doot aboot it.’ - - ‘Well, ov all t’ crack-brained undertakkings ’at ivver Ah’ve clap’d - mah een on, this carrying on licks au’d Mother Shipton.’ - - ‘T’ Queen owtn’t ti ’low this.’ - - ‘Sitha, tha’re gahin’ up.’ - - ‘Sha owtn’t. It’s nut reet, a-gahin’ on leyke this; neeabody ’ez onny - reet ti start foor heaven, owther insahd or ootsahd a b’loon, wivoot - tha’ve deed fo’st. It’s warse ’an t’ tooer o’ Babel.’ - - ‘It seeams ti gan stiddy, Ah will saay that.’ - - ‘That’s nowt; tha’re nut i’ t’ reet on ’t.’ - - ‘Tha’ll ’ev a gran view, onny road.’ - - ‘Thoo dizn’t meean ti saay, John, ’at thoo’d leyke ti gan, diz ta?’ - - ‘Whya, mebbe Ah wad! sha’s a neycish leeaking lass.’ - - ‘Whya, then, Ah’ll tell tha what, if ivver Ah catch thee gahin’ inti - t’ cloods, dengling belaw a b’loon iv a bee-skep wiv a straange lass, - thoo’d better stop up wiv her altigither, foor thoo’ll ’a’e larl peace - if thoo ivver darr’s ti cum doon agaan. Beear i’ mahnd, noo, when thoo - leeaves ma for t’ cloods, it’ll ’a’e ti be ez an angel, or thoo’ll rue - ’t.’ - - - _Mrs. Waddleton travels by train for the first time to see her - daughter, residing at Whitby, to whom she gives a full description of - her journey._ - - Whya, noo, Ah’ll tell tha all aboot it reet away fra t’ starting. Thoo - knaws Ah went ti what they call t’ station, an’ Ah seed a young chap - stannin’ at t’ back ov a thing leyke a ratten trap, an’ Ah sez tiv - him, ‘Noo, then, what’s thoo been efter ti git thisen stuckken theer - foor?’ An’ he sez, ‘Naay, nowt; Ah’s nobbut here ti sell t’ tickets, - that’s all.’ ‘Oh, whya,’ sez Ah, ‘if that’s all, let’s be ’evving - ho’d o’ yan.’ An’ he sez ti me, ‘All reet, wheear are ya gahin’?’ - ‘Stop a bit,’ sez Ah; ’that’s neea business o’ thahn.’ ‘Whya,’ sez he, - ‘Ah caan’t gi’e ya a ticket if ya deean’t tell uz wheear ya gahin’ - tul.’ ‘Well,’ sez Ah, ‘Ah s’all deea nowt o’ t’ sort; an’ if Ah’ve - onny mair o’ thi impidence, Ah’ll tak tha byv t’ hair o’ thi heead - an’ Ah’ll pull tha thruff t’ larl hoal—that’s what Ah’ll deea.’ An’ - then a young lady cam up, an’ sha sez, ‘If Ah war yow, Ah’d tell t’ - young chap wheear ya’re gahin’ tul, an’ it’ll mense things up a bit, - an’ ya’ll git yer ticket an’ git awaay neycely.’ ‘All reet,’ sez Ah. - ‘Noo, then, cu’ thi waays back, impidence; Ah’s gahin’ ti Whidby ti - see my dowter. Sha lives on t’ cliff, an’ sha’s gitten a pianner, an’ - bowt a pig, an’—— ’ ‘Naay, what!’ sez he; ‘Ah deean’t want ti knaw - all t’ family history, hooivver.’ ‘Well,’ sez Ah, ’thoo seeam’d that - ’quisitive aboot it, ’at Ah thowt Ah’d best tell tha t’ lot whahl Ah - war at it.’ ‘Whya, noo then,’ sez he, ’theear’s yer ticket, an’ it’s - yan an’ fow’pence.’ ‘Whya,’ sez Ah, ’thoo needn’t be seea chuff aboot - it; theer’s thi yan an’ fow’pence.’ ‘That’s reet,’ sez he; ‘an’ ya mun - tak care on ’t.’ ‘Thoo gert dunder-nowle!’ sez Ah; ‘Ah’s nut gahin’ ti - fling ’t awaay when Ah git ootsahd. Ah s’all tak care on ’t ti t’ end - o’ mah daays.’ ‘Naay,’ sez he, ‘bud ya weean’t.’ ‘What foor?’ sez Ah. - ‘‘Coz theer’s a chap ’at t’ tother end ’ll want it.’ ‘Oh, is theer?’ - sez Ah; ‘whya, then, he weean’t git it.’ ‘He’ll tak it fra ya,’ sez - he. ‘Nut if he’s leyke what thoo is,’ sez Ah, ‘or hauf a dozen on - ’em.’ An’ then Ah went ootsahd, on ti what tha call t’ platform. - ‘Noo, then,’ sez Ah, ‘is this t’ traan thing?’ An’ a porter chap sez, - ‘Aye, that’s it.’ ‘Oh! an’ wheer’s t’ hoss?’ sez Ah. ‘What hoss?’ sez - he. ‘Whya, t’ hoss ’at’s gahin’ ti drag t’ thing ti Whidby?’ ‘Bud,’ - sez he, ‘it dizn’t gan wiv a hoss.’ ‘Then what diz it gan wiv?’ sez - Ah. ‘Whya, that thing ’at’s at t’ front end on ’t.’ ‘Hoo can a thing - leyke yon knaw t’ road ti Whidby? Ger away wi’ tha.’ ‘Oh,’ sez he, - ‘ya’re gahin’ ti Whidby, are ya?’ ‘Ah is,’ sez Ah; an’ wi’ that he gat - at t’ back o’ mah, an’ afore Ah knew wheer Ah war, Ah war hauf lifted - an’ hauf thrussen inti ti carridge. An’ ther war nowt bud a young chap - sitting up i’ t’ far corner; an’ Ah sez tiv him, ‘Ah, saay, ’ev yow - ivver been iv a train afoor?’ ‘Aye, monny a tahm,’ sez he. ‘Is this - all reet?’ sez Ah. ‘Aye, it’s reet eneeaf,’ sez he. An’ seea Ah sat - ma doon. Ah thowt it ’ud be seea neyce ti leeak oot o’ t’ winder an’ - see Tom Robison’s coddy fooals an’ John Williams’s pigs, bud it’s ez - trew ez Ah’s sitting byv thi fire-sahd, t’ fo’st thing ’at Ah seed war - a chetch run reet across a field, an’ t’ next minit ther war tweea - coos, three pigs, a man, an’ a haystack flew past that quick, whahl - ya c’u’dn’t keep yer e’es on ’em at all, an’ then ivverything went ez - pick dark ez neet. ‘Noo, then,’ Ah shooted, ‘what’s up noo?’ ‘Naay, - nowt,’ sez he; ‘wa’ve nobbut gane insahd ov a funnel, that’s all.’ - ‘Insahd ov a funnel!’ sez Ah; ’then s’all wa be dragged oot o’ t’ - narrer end on ’t?’ ‘Noo, it’s all reet,’ sez he. ‘Ah deean’t knaw sae - mich aboot its being all reet,’ sez Ah. ‘Ah’ve neea reet ti be locked - up i’ t’ dark wiv a young chap ’at Ah’ve nivver seen afoor.’ ‘Whya, - noo, sit ya still,’ sez he; ‘Ah isn’t gahin’ ti mell on ya.’ ‘Thoo’d - better nut,’ sez Ah, ‘or else tho’ll git thi hair combed foor nowt.’ - An’ then wa flew inti dayleet, afoor Ah knew wheer Ah war. Efter a - bit wa began ti slack up a piece. ‘Noo, then,’ sez Ah, ‘what’s up - noo?’ ‘Nowt,’ sez he; ‘wa’ve nobbut gitten ti Whidby, that’s all.’ - ‘Oh! well,’ sez Ah, ‘if that’s all, that’s wheear Ah want ti be.’ An’ - Ah oppen’d t’ deear an’ stepped oot, an’ afoor Ah knew wheer Ah war, - Ah war laid flat o’ mah back on t’ platform. When Ah’d gitten mysen - upended agaan, Ah seed a chap at t’ far end o’ t’ station clicking - ther tickets frev ’em leyke all that, an’ Ah thowt ti mysen, ‘Thoo’ll - finnd thisen wrang when Ah cum up.’ Hooivver, he nobbut tried ti git - hauf o’ mahn, an’ seea it didn’t matter; bud Ah’ve ta’en ’em in, foor - all that. Ah wadn’t ’a’e deean ’t if they’d nobbut behaved thersens, - bud tha didn’t, chucking yan in an’ potching yan oot. What diz ta - saay, thoo wants ti knaw hoo Ah’ve mannished ti tak ’em in? Whya, noo, - Ah’ll tell tha—Ah’ve bowt a return ticket, an’ Ah isn’t gahin’ back. - Tha caan’t git t’ best o’ me. - - - WENSLEYDALE NICKNAMES. - - - Ov all the straange plaaces ’at ivver wur knawn, - Wensleydale bangs ’em all, ez noo s’all be shown, - Fur naams ’a’e been gi’en ti women an’ men— - Yow’d wunner hooivver tha gat ’em, an’ when. - - ‘Drummer Tom’ is t’ naame ’at’s sattled o’ yan, - An’ ‘Sheggy’ is t’ naame o’ ‘Mary Toms’’ son; - Ther’s ‘Bell Taylor Johnny’ ‘at lives up at Gayle, - An’ ‘Brissy’ ‘s a man bred an’ born iv oor dale. - - ‘Cobbler Jack’ drahves a bus fra Leyburn ti Hawes, - An’ ‘Wingy’ uz sartinly been i’ the wars; - Ah caan’t tell hoo ‘Hiapath’ cam byv his naame, - An’ ti call a man ‘Shinnock’ is sewerly a shaame. - - ‘Ball Joan’ is a chap ya’d awn ti be tall; - His weyfe, ‘Lile Bella,’ is sartinly small; - Her brother-i’-law is called ‘Peggy Tom,’ - An’ ‘Pop’ ‘s a chap Ah knaw nut wheer from. - - ‘Tom Kiss’ is a tailor, a scheealmaister ‘Paul,’ - Whahl ‘Jeff Boat,’ a cobbler, wurks hard wiv his awl; - ‘Jim Nip’ is a good un wi’ pickaxe or speead, - An’ ‘Shetty’ maks brass i’ t’ grossery traade. - - ‘Spinner Niddy’ an’ ‘Chapir’ wurk up at t’ au’d mill, - ‘Arry Ann’ uz a doctor is faam’d fur her skill, - ‘Sailor Jack’ Ah wad sweear nivver hann’l’d an oar, - Bud ‘Planks,’ the young joiner, ’ll mak ya a doour. - - ‘Dicky Flesk’ is a grosser, an’ ‘One Boy’ maks shoes, - An’ ‘Snegram’ ‘s a naame ’at Ah wadn’t choose; - ‘Sophy John’ keeps a lodging-hoos noo at t’ Toon foot, - An’ tweea uther chaps are called ‘Puin’ an’ ‘Put.’ - My frien’s ’at are left Ah’ll clap iv a lump, - Fur wa’ve ‘Gaggon’ an’ ‘Crackon’ an’ ‘Bridney’ an’ ‘Stump.’ - - -The above would be written about twenty-five years ago. The verses -were given to me by my old schoolfellow, T. Fairbank King, Esq., West -Witton. The two following verses are the sole remains of a much older -rhyme, probably about 1800, and may have suggested the idea to the -author of the above, whose name is unknown. - - - Ther’s ‘Jack’s lass wi’ cauves’ an’ ‘Sally wi’ Shanks’; - Ther’s ‘Miss Nancy Prim,’ an’ young ‘Tommy Pranks,’ - An’ ‘Mucky stee Tom,’ an’ ‘Hopplin’ Bill’; - Ther’s ‘Mary wi’ t’ scar’ an’ ‘Au’d Muther Dill’; - - Ther’s ‘Tommy wi’ t’ warts,’ an’ ‘Sticker Bull Coo,’ - An’ ‘Sniftering Tom lass,’ an’ ‘Ugger-a-boo’; - Ther’s ‘Snouty’ an’ ‘Corker,’ an’ ‘Annie fra Gayle,’ - Wheeas legs caan’t be matched iv all Wensleydale. - - -The symmetry of Annie’s legs must have been quite phenomenal, as my -informant gravely told me that ‘A chap cam all t’ waay fra Lunnon ti -tak t’ pattern on ’em fer a statta’ (i.e. statue) ‘he war makking fur -sumbody.’ - - * * * * * - -Nicknames are quite common in Yorkshire. Take the following (some I -do not know the surnames of, though well knowing the persons):—Jamma, -Mucaduck, Midge, Boxer, T’ au’d bo’d, Blash, Tarra, Au’d Willie, Bunks -Canary, Black Jack, Coy Duck, Calcraft, Fishy, Tankard, Trucky, Radden, -Shut, Moudy, Tramp, Slackbags, Jump a Bush, Dog Tom, &c. - - - A COMPARISON OF TWO LANGUAGES AS SPOKEN AT THE PRESENT DAY. - - - Ther war a chap fra Lunnon cam— - Fau’k said he war a swell. - He mebbe war; yah thing Ah knaw, - He did his varra best ti draw - T’ soft oot o’ yan. - - He cam ti me yah daay an’ sez, - ‘Oi sai, old chep, look h’yar, - Oi’ve lorst my bally self, yew kneow, - End jest which wai I orter gou - To me aint cleah. - - ‘Deoun’t cher kneow, ’pon my word! - A fellah feels a fool; - Oi sai, look h’yar, I want to kneow, - Old cheppy, the best wai to gou - To—er—the hall? - - ‘Oi kneow yew Johnnies kneow a lot, - Beout land end worms end grubs; - Yew’re beastly clevvah, deoun’t cher kneow? - But deoun’t yew find it bally sleow, - This sort of life?’ - - ‘Noo, then,’ Ah sez, ‘ho’d on a bit, - Deean’t ramm’l on seea fast; - Thoo sez thoo’s lost, an’ wants ti knaw - T’ gainest road foor thoo ti goa - Ti git ti t’ hall. - - ‘Noo, if thoo aims that road ti gan, - Just to’n thisen aboot, - Thruff t’ staggarth tak an’ to’n ti t’ reet, - Mak foor t’ larl yat thoo’ll finnd i’ seet, - Nigh hand t’ faud-yard. - - ‘Thoo maun’t gan thruff ’t, bud to’n agaan, - Keep t’ muckheap weel ti t’ reet, - Tak t’ pastur path, deean’t laak wi’ t’ steg, - Foor he’s neean ower neyce wheea’s awe t’ leg— - He’d neb thi breeaks. - - ‘Ah mak na doot aboot this tahm - Thoo’ll sairly daffled be, - Bud theer ’s a lad theer flaying creeaks; - Thoo’d best ass him, an’ when thoo speeaks, - Talk plaan.’ - - ‘Thenks, awf’ly, but deoun’t cher kneow, - Deah cheppie, ’pon my word, - Oi deoun’t quite ketch what yew do sai, - The fect is, Oi hev lorst my wai— - Yew understend?’ - - ‘Ah understand tha hard eneeaf, - Bud leeaks ta, mun, Ah s’u’dn’t, - Bud a frien’ o’ mahn fra Lunnon cums, - An’ just leyke thee, he ’aws an’ ‘ums, - Whahl Ah caan’t bahd. - - ‘Noo, if thoo aims Ah ’s gahin’ ti try - Ti scrape mah tongue, thoo’s wrang; - Thoo cums an’ slaps yan on yan’s back, - An’ eggs yan on ti talk, ti mak - Nowt else bud gam. - - ‘Ah’ve tell’d tha t’ road ez plaan ez nowt, - An’ Ah’ll tell tha summat else— - Deean’t aim at t’ reeaks an’ shut a craw, - Deean’t slavver fau’k thoo dizn’t know; - Noo off thoo gans.’ - B——. - - - THE SELL IN THE CELLAR. - - - Being fond o’ sweets ov ivvery kahnd, - Nut lang sen, mun, Ah ’ed a mahnd - Ti help mysen tiv a lahtle teeaste - O’ summat neyce i’ puffy peeaste. - Thieves, thoff, awlus ’ev a fear, - Seea Ah lissen’d, an’ Ah fan t’ road clear; - Seea being a sharpish soart o’ feller, - Ah teeak mysen reet doon i’ t’ celler, - An’ theear on shelves afoor my een - War pies an’ tarts fit foor a queen. - Ho’d on a bit! what’s this Ah see? - A pankin full o’ rich jelly. - Ah war fairly capp’d at fo’st ti see - Seea gert a bowl full ov jelly; - But theear it war, ez plaan ez daay, - An’ tempting teea. Ah’ve heeard fau’k saay - When t’ divil maks ya try yer luck, - He awlus leeaves ya stuck i’ t’ muck. - He ’ez a waay, he ’ez, by gock! - O’ makking plother leeak leyke rock. - Whether ’t be wenches, drink, or money, - T’ divil daubs ’em all wi’ honey, - Or summat else ’at catches t’ e’e. - Noo Ah war ’ticed wi’ that jelly, - Seea wi’ mah whittle a shive o’ keeak - ‘At ’ed been cutten, Ah did teeak. - Theer’s a saying, mun, which rhymes wi’ rhahm, - It’s ’yah good thing tak at a tahm’; - Bud t’ lump o’ keeak Ah felt wad be - Nowt mich bidoot Ah ’ed t’ jelly. - Seea Ah laid a lump on t’ top o’ t’ keeak, - An’ sed, by gum! hoo neyce ya leeak! - Mah mooth war wattering foor a teeast, - An’ Ah just war gahin’ ti start mah feeast, - When Ah thowt Ah heeard sumbody cumin’— - Mah fo’st thowt war ov up an’ runnin’. - Inti mah gob Ah cramm’d all t’ lot, - Then nut a minit did Ah stop; - Up t’ cellar steps Ah quickly flang, - Thruff t’ kitchen deear went wiv a bang, - Whahl t’ garden roond Ah madly rushed, - An’ plants an’ shrubs Ah sairly crushed - Wi’ baith mah stamping feet; - Foor t’ stuff ’at Ah’d thowt foor ti eat, - Oha! war nut it a sell! - Tak mah wo’d for ’t, Ah scarce da’st tell. - Ti think o’ t’ trouble ’at Ah teeak - Ti git that jelly an’ that keeak, - An’ efter all mah langing hoap, - Ti finnd Ah’d gitten nowt bud soap. - Ya tumm’l teea ’t; Ah needn’t saay, - Sum stuff they’d made foor t’ weshing daay. - B——. - - - A SPECIMEN OF YORKSHIRE FOLK-SPEECH, AS SPOKEN IN THE NORTH RIDING. - - A SKETCH. ONE OF THE ‘WADDLETON’ SERIES, BY THE AUTHOR. - - - _Mrs. Waddleton goes to Stockton Races, and her friend Mrs. Bubbles is - told all about it._ - - Sit tha doon, Mary, an’ Ah’ll tell tha all aboot it reet awaay fra t’ - starting. It war leyke this, thoo knaws. Ah sed tiv oor John yah daay - when he cam in; Ah sez tiv him, ‘Noo, then!’ an’ he sez ti ma, ‘Noo, - then!’ An’ Ah sed, ‘Whya, noo, Ah’ll tell tha what; what diz ta think - if wa gan ti Stockton Races?’ An’ he sez, ‘Wha, Ah s’u’d think ’at wa - war daft—that’s what Ah s’u’d think.’ Ah seed ’at he war t’ wrang sahd - oot, an’ seea Ah sed nowt neea mair just then. Bud bliss yer leyfe, Ah - ’evn’t been wed tiv a man fahve an’ twenty year nut ti knaw t’ reet - end o’ yan, ez a body might saay; seea Ah let things bahd whahl he - cam intiv his supper, an’ Ah’ gat him a neyce bit o’ liver an’ bacon - riddy. Ah seed him soffen t’ minit ’at he clapp’d his een on ’t. Bud, - what! ya can ommaist awlus tattle onny man thruff his stomach. Ah - waited a larl bit, whahl he’d gitten a mouth or tweea full, an’ then - Ah sat ma doon on t’ cheer-airm, an’ started ti git ower him wi’ mah - au’d cunnin’ waays, leyke what Ah used ti deea i’ daays geean by. Ah - put mah airm roond his neck, an’ sed, ‘Noo, that’s a bit o’ neyce, - isn’t it?’ An’ he sez, ‘Aye, lass.’ An’ Ah sed, ‘Aye, it is; ther’s - neeabody else wad ’a’e bothered to ’a’e gitten tha sike a neyce bit o’ - supper riddy.’ An’ then Ah ran mah fingers thruff his hair. ‘Neea,’ - sez he, ’ther’s nut.’ An’ then efter a bit, he sez, ‘Ah’ll tell tha - what, lass; if thoo wants ti gan ti t’ races, whya, what, Ah s’all - ’a’e ti tak tha.’ ‘Nut if ya doan’t want ti go, mah luv,’ sez Ah. Bud - Ah maad up mah mahnd ’at he s’u’dn’t back oot on ’t then. ‘Bud Ah’ll - tell tha what,’ sez Ah, ‘if thoo wants ti gan, Ah’ll gan wi’ tha.’ - Thoo knaws it’s best foor t’ men ti deea ez t’ weyfe wants ’em at t’ - fo’st, acoz thoo knaws wa awlus deea git wer awn way owther thruff - t’ yat or ower t’ hedge. Bud ez he’d sattled ti gan, theer war nowt - neea mair ti saay aboot it. An’ seea when t’ morning cam, wa gat up a - bit seeaner, an’ set off foor Guisborough Station—ma, Sairy Jane, an’ - Jimmey, an’ oor John, wi’ t’ ten pund ’at mah aunt Martha ’ed left uz - ti buy a bit o’ betterly furniter wi’. - - Weel, thoo knaws, when wa gat ti t’ station, oho—oo! Ah think ’at - Ah nivver war i’ sike a hubbleshoe i’ all mah leyfe. Ah sed ti - Sairy Jane, ‘Noo, thoo mun tak ho’d, an’ keep ho’d o’ thi feyther’s - coat-taal; an’ thoo, Jimmey, lig ho’d o’ mah sket, an’ see ’at nowther - on ya leeaves go whahl wa’re all safely inti t’ carridge.’ Wa ’ed - nobbut been studden that waay hauf a minit, when oor Sairy Jane let - oot t’ gertest skrike ’at Ah’ve ivver heeard; an’ when Ah leeaked - roond, if sha warn’t i’ the cruel clutch ov a bobby. ‘Noo, then,’ sez - Ah, ‘what’s up wi’ t’ lass?’ - - ‘Ah’ve catched her i’ t’ act,’ sez he. - - ‘I’ t’ act o’ what?’ sez Ah. - - ‘O’ picking this chap’s pocket,’ sez he. - - ‘Thoo gert dunderknowle!’ sez Ah. ‘Thoo’s deean nowt o’ t’ sooart; - that’s her feyther, an’ sha’s nobbut ho’ding on tiv his coaat-taals, - seea ez sha dizn’t git hersen lost amang all this thrang. Leeave - lowse, an’ let her gan, an’ mak a shift ti leet o’ sumbody ’at’s up - ti neea good; or else thoo’ll finnd thysen i’ t’ wrang box, Ah can - tell tha.’ An’ wi’ that, Ah marched all t’ three on ’em inti t’ traan, - which ’ed just puff’d itsen inti t’ station. Sitting reet i’ t’ front - o’ ma, war a young chap wiv a rug ower his knees, potching three cards - aboot maist miracklous leyke. - - ‘What are ya trying foor ti deea?’ sez Ah. - - ‘Whya, it’s a trick,’ sez he. - - ‘Whya,’ sez Ah, ‘Ah deean’t see mich ov a trick i’ owt ’at ya’ve deean - up ti noo; onny bit baan could hann’l three cards i’ that road. What - is ’t ya’re efter?’ - - ‘Whya,’ sez he, ‘it’s a trick ’at Ah seed a chap deeaing yesterdaa, - bud Ah’s nut weel up in ’t yet. Ah’s trying ti thraw ’em doon seea ez - ya weean’t ken wheer t’ pictur-card tumm’ls.’ - - ‘Oha, that’s it, is’t?’ sez Ah. An’ then Ah sez, ‘Ah’ll tell tha what, - thoo’ll ’a’e ti lig ’em doon vastly different ti what thoo ’ez deean - up ti noo, afoor thoo’ll mannish ti deea ’t, foor Ah’ve seen wheer - it’s tumm’l’d ivvery tahm.’ - - ‘Maist leykely,’ sez he; ‘bud ya knaw it’s ez Ah sed—Ah’s nut t’ - maaster on’t yet.’ - - ‘Neea,’ sez Ah, ‘Ah seear thoo isn’t.’ - - ‘Whya, noo,’ sez he, chucking ’em doon agaan, ‘which on ’em’s t’ - pictur-card this tahm?’ - - ‘T’ far ended!’ sez Ah. An’ Ah lifted it up, an’ o’ course it war, - ’coz Ah’d seen it tumm’l theer. - - ‘Aye, ya’ve mannished it this tahm,’ sez he. - - ‘Aye, an’ ivvery uther tahm!’ sez Ah, ‘if ta caan’t deea ’t neea - better ’an that!’ - - ‘Whya, noo then,’ sez he, chucking ’em doon agaan. ‘Deean’t touch ’em, - bud tell uz which on ’em is ’t this tahm?’ - - ‘T’ middle yan!’ sez Ah, ez bou’d ez brass. - - ‘Whya!’ sez he, ‘mebbe it is. Ah deean’t knaw neea mair ’an what ya - deea, but Ah’s yan o’ them ’at backs mah fancy, an’ Ah’ll bet yer a - suverin ’at it’s nut it.’ - - ‘Young man!’ sez Ah, solembly, ‘diz yowr muther knaw ’at ya cum’d - awaay wiv a suverin, foor ya’re gahin’ on iv a straange leykely way - foor lossing on ’t.’ - - ‘Nivver ya mahnd,’ sez he; ‘Ah’ll bet a suverin ’at it’s nut it. Ah’ve - gitten mah idea, an’ ya’ve gitten yowrs—will ya bet?’ - - ‘Well!’ sez Ah, ‘Ah deean’t ho’d wi’ betting, an’ Ah nivver at neea - tahm did; bud if so be ez hoo an au’d boddy leyke mysen can larn ya - hoo easy a suverin can be slithered awaay by backing up sike consate - ez ’ez gitten ho’d o’ ya, whya, here gans.’ An’ Ah pulled mah pess[83] - oot, teeak t’ on’y suverin ’at Ah ’ed, and handed it tiv a chap ez - war sitting byv his sahd; t’ young chap handed him yan an’ all, an’ - then Ah lifted t’ card up, an’—oho—— o! Ah nivver war seea capped iv - all mah leyfe—it warn’t it. Ah trimm’l’d an’ dithered fra t’ top ti - t’ boddum o’ ma; Ah felt just ez if mah back war stuffed wiv aspen - leeaves. - - ‘John!’ Ah gasped, ‘it’s a swinn’l, it’s a swinn’l; keep thi han’ i’ - thi pocket, or thoo’ll be lossing t’ ten pund ’at mah aunt Martha - left uz ti buy a bit o’ betterly furniter wi’. An’ deean’t let on ’at - thoo ’ez ten pund aboot tha,’ sez Ah, foorgitting ’at Ah war letting - ivvery yan on ’em i’ t’ carridge knaw ’at he’d gitten seea mich on - him. Hooivver, Ah hedn’t neea tahm ti saay owt else, foor just then - wa gat ti Stockton, an’ Ah think ther war a warse hubbleshoe on i’ - Stockton Station ’an what ther war i’ Guisborough. ‘Noo, then!’ sez - Ah tiv a gert fat woman ’at cam thrussin’ up agaan ma, ‘deean’t ya - cum shuvvin’ ma aboot i’ that road.’ ‘Noo, then, Victoria!’ sez sha, - ‘what’s t’ matter wi’ thoo?’ ‘Ah’s nut Victoria!’ sez Ah; an’ leeak - ya, Ah deean’t think sha thowt ’at Ah war. Just ez Ah sed that, ther - war anuther woman stood hersen reet on t’ top o’ mah pet bunion. ‘Oh - deeary ma, missus!’ Ah skriked oot, ‘Ah cannut bahd this, hooivver, - ya’re laaming ma sadly; deea tak yer foot off.’ ‘Noo, then,’ sez she, - ’t’ station isn’t yowrs!’ ‘Neea,’ sez Ah, ‘bud t’ bunion is.’ An’ - wi’ that Ah tell’d John an’ t’ childer ti follow cleease at t’ back - o’ ma, an’ Ah boudly pushed mah waay oot o’ t’ station. Neea seeaner - ’ed wa gitten ootsahd, ’an Ah seed clagg’d on a wall a gert big bill, - wi’ theease we’ds printed on ’t, ‘BEWARE O’ PICKPOCKETS.’ An’ what - d’ye think? Ah felt i’ mah pocket, an’ mah pess, eight-an’-six, an’ - mah railway ticket ’ed all geean, geean ez cleean ez a whistle. Ah - didn’t tell John; Ah just sed, ‘Thoo mun keep thi han’ i’ thi pocket, - or else sumbody ’ll be takking t’ ten pund fra tha, if thoo dizn’t - mahnd.’ He sez ti ma, ‘Tha weean’t git nowt oot o’ mah pockets, if - tha deea shuv ther han’s in.’ Ah sez, ‘Thoo dizn’t meean ti saay ’at - tha’ve gitten ’t fra tha alriddy, diz ta?’ ‘Neea,’ sez he, ‘Ah ’evn’t - gitten t’ brass i’ mah pocket—Ah’ve putten ’t i’ mah hat.’ An’ then - Ah notished ’at he ’ed his hancutcher tied ower his hat an’ unner his - chin, leeaking foor all t’ wo’lld leyke yan ’at war iv an extremity - wi’ t’ teeth wark; bud Ah thowt it war t’ capitalist idea ’at - onnyboddy could ’a’e thowt on. Ah didn’t saay seea tiv him, acoz if - yer praise t’ men tha seean git past thersens—bud ya knaw that bidoot - ma telling ya. Hooivver, Ah did wish ’at Ah’d putten mah pess i’ mah - bonnet, an’ then Ah s’u’dn’t ’a’e lost it an’ all ’at war iv it. - ‘It’ll be t’ best,’ Ah sez, ‘foor uz ti finnd wa waays ti t’ course, - git summat ti eat, see a race, buy t’ furniter, an’ gan yam ageean.’ - Noo, hoo can Ah picter ti tha a race-course? If yer can ’magine all t’ - rackapelts an’ raggamuffins gedered tigither i’ yah crood, shooting - men an’ screeaming women, wi’ rows o’ carridges filled wi’ lords an’ - ladies stuffing thersens wi’ pies an’ pop, ya can ’ev summat ov a idea - what a race-course is leyke. Whahl wa war stannin’ fair capped wi’ - t’ carryings on, whau s’u’d cum up bud t’ varra seeam young chap ’at - Ah’d lost t’ pund teea i’ t’ carridge. ‘Ah’s glad ’at Ah’ve tumm’l’d - across ya ageean,’ sez he. ‘Mebbe ya may be,’ sez Ah. ‘Ya see, ya - wan t’ pund an’ Ah lost it, an’ that maks all t’ difference i’ being - glad ti see onnybody.’ ‘Aye, bud that’s nut it; Ah’ve gitten a gert - frien’ o’ yer muther’s wi’ ma,’ sez he. ‘Oh, indeed,’ sez Ah. ‘An’ - whau may that be?’ ‘This is the gentleman,’ sez he; ‘let ma mak him - knawn ti ya. This is Lord Swin’lton, whau knew yer muther varra weel.’ - ‘Ah didn’t knaw ’at mah muther ivver war acquainted wiv a lord,’ sez - Ah, leeaking t’ chap ower; bud ther war neea doot aboot his being - a lord—Ah seed that t’ minit Ah clapped mah een on him. Oh yes, - he war all there—ulster, eye-glass, di’mon’ pin, an’ ivverything. - Ther’s no mistakking a lord when ya see yan, tha’re good eneeaf ti - challenge. ‘This is yer husband?’ sez his lordship, leeaking at John. - ‘Got t’ feeace-ache?’ sez he. ‘Noa, mah lord,’ sez Ah, ‘it’s nut t’ - feeace-ache ’at he’s suffering fra. It’s leyke this, doan’t yer see, - mah lord: mah aunt Martha left us ten pund ti buy a bit o’ betterly - furniter wi’, an’ seea ez neeabody ’ll finnd oot wheer it is, he’s - tied it up iv his hat, foor safety leyke, ez a body might saay, ez ya - may term it so ti speeak.’ - - ‘An’ a varra good plan an’ all,’ sez he. - - Just at that minit t’ young chap whau Ah’d lost t’ pund teea teeak a - fit, an’ fell wiv his han’s roond oor John’s neck, an’ doon tha baith - went tigither, an’ ez tha tumm’l’d on ti t’ grand, Lord Swin’lton - swiped oor John’s hat off wiv his stick, an’ next minit Sairey Jane - beald oot, ‘Oha, muther! Lord Swin’lton’s off wi’ mah feyther’s hat, - an’ it’s gitten t’ ten pund in ’t.’ Ah didn’t stop ti think, thoo - knaws, bud just off efter him ez hard ez ivver Ah could gan. Ah heard - a man saay ’at he’d nivver seen a woman leg it leyke what Ah did. Ah - s’u’d ’a’e catch’d him an’ all, bud just when Ah war gahin’ ti click - ho’d ov his coat taals, Ah catched mah foot iv a tent-roap, an’ afoor - Ah knew wheer Ah war, Ah war laid wi’ mah heead iv a box o’ cokernuts. - ‘Noo, then,’ shooted t’ man ’at awn’d ’em, ‘cum oot o’ that. Deean’t - ya cum cracking mah cokernuts, an’ sucking t’ milk oot; ther’s neea - free sucks here.’ Ah gat up, an’ Ah let that man ’ev t’ length o’ mah - tunge—Lord Swin’lton ’ed ta’en hissel off by that tahm. Ther war nowt - else for ’t bud ti git wersens heeam ez best wa could. An’ when Ah’d - putten Sairey Jane an’ Jimmy ti bed, Ah sed tiv oor John, Ah sez, - ‘Noo, John, Ah deean’t want ti upbraad tha—it’s been a sad daay foor - uz—bud efter all’s sed an’ deean, thoo owt ti be asham’d o’ thisel - foor ivver letting a woman ’tice tha inti takking her ti sikan a - blackguardy pleeace ez Stockton Races. - -NOTE.—Wensleydale and Swaledale readers will find it both interesting -and instructive to compare the above sketch, which is given in the -Clevelandic speech, with the folk-speech as spoken in their own -dale, which to a slight degree in pronunciation tends toward that of -Lancashire in one direction and to that of Cumberland and Westmoreland -in the other. The two latter, however, on all counts, bear a closer -relationship to our North Riding speech than either that of the West -Riding or South Lancashire. - -It must always be borne in mind that the dialect along the north-east -coast of Yorkshire approaches nearer to its original source than that -of any other, and especially so may this be said of Cleveland. - - - A HUNDERD YEARS HENCE. - [_Date about 1800._] - - - A hunderd years hence - What a chaange ’ll be maade - I’ politics, morals, religion an’ traade. - I’ statesmen whau wrang’l - Or rahd upo’ t’ fence - Maist things ’ll be diff’rent - A hunderd years hence. - - T’ heeads ov oor lasses - Sike changes ’ll show; - It’s nut ov ther mahnds - ‘At wa aim ti speeak noo, - Bud ov three-bishel bonnets, - Ther gypsies an’ flats, - Ther scoops, navarinoes, - Ti snug lahtle hats - - Wi’ furs an’ wi’ ribbons, - Wi’ feathers an’ flooers, - Sum feshioned byv artists - An’ sum plucked fra t’ booers. - Bud heeads ’ll be chaang’d teea, - Far larnt an’ i’ sense, - Afoor wa’ ‘ev coonted - A hunderd years hence. - - Oor laws ’ll be then - Nivver maade, mun, by feeals, - An’ prisons Ah aim - ‘Ll be to’n’d inti skeeals; - Foor t’ pleasurs o’ vice - Are a feealish pretence, - Bud Ah doot if tha’ll awn it - A hunderd years hence. - - Noo vice ’ll be kenn’d, - When at last fau’k awakken, - Ti be t’ warst kind o’ daftness, - Or else Ah ’s mistakken. - T’ lawyers an’ t’ doctors - And t’ parsons wi’ sense - Will ’ev altered ther waays - A hunderd years hence. - - An’ you an’ me, reader, - Wheer s’all wa be fund?— - It’s wer souls ’at Ah meean, - Nut wer bodies i’ t’ grund. - S’all wa be wheer it’s joy, - Or i’ sorrow intense? - Wa s’all all on uz knaw - A hunderd years hence. - _Anon._ - - - THE SWEEPER AN’ THIEVES. - - BY D. LEWIS. - [_Date about 1800-15. Published at Bedale._] - - - A sweeper’s lad war late o’ t’ neet, - His slaape-shod shoon ’ed leeam’d his feet; - He call’d ti see a good au’d deeam - ‘At monny a tahm ’ed trigg’d his wame[84] - (Foor he war then fahve mile fra yam). - He ax’d i’ t’ lair[85] ti let him sleep, - An’ he’d t’ next daay the’r chim’lies sweep. - Tha supper’d him weel wi’ country fare, - Then show’d him tul his hoal i’ t’ lair. - He crept intul his streahy[86] bed, - His pooak o’ seeat[87] beneath his heead; - He war content, ner cared a pin, - An’ his good frien’ then lock’d him in. - T’ lair fra t’ hoos a larl piece stood, - Atween ’em grew a lahtle wood. - Aboot midneet, ur nigher morn, - Tweea rogues brak in ti steeal ther corn. - ‘Eving a leet i’ lantern dark, - Tha seean ti winder fell ti wark; - An’ wishing tha’d a lad ti fill, - Young brush (wheea yet ’ed ligg’d quite still), - Thinkin’ ‘at t’ men belang’d ti t’ hoos, - An’ that he noo mud be ov ewse, - Jump’d doon directly on ti t’ fleear, - An’ t’ thieves then baith ran oot o’ t’ deear, - An’ stopp’d at nowther thin na thick— - Fully tha aim’d it war Au’d Nick. - T’ sweeper lad then ran reet seean - Ti t’ hoos, an’ tell’d ’em what war deean. - Maister an’ men then quickly raase, - An’ ran ti t’ lair wi’ hauf ther clais[88]; - Tweea hosses, secks, an’ leet tha fand, - Which ’ed been left by t’ thievish band. - Theease all roond t’ countrysahd tha cry’d, - Bud nut an awner e’er apply’d, - Foor neean dast t’ hosses awn na t’ secks, - Tha war seea freeten’d o’ ther necks. - Yah hoss an’ seck war judged ez t’ sweeper’s share, - Acoz he’d kept baith t’ farmer’s corn an’ lair. - - -The following note is appended to the original:—‘This tale is founded -on fact, and happened at Leeming Lane a few years ago.’ - -The student will find the above and four following pieces interesting, -as showing the alteration in the pronunciation of certain words which -has locally taken place during the last eighty years in the Bedale -district. - - - DARBY AN’ JOAN AN’ THEIR DAUGHTER NELL. - - A DIALOGUE BY W. HIRD. - [_Date 1800-15. Published at Bedale._] - - - _Darby._ - - Joan! Ah noo ’ev thowt seea mich about it, - Ah seearly nivver mair s’all doot it; - At moorn an’ neet, an’ neet an’ moorn, - Ah sumtahms wish Ah’d ne’er been born. - - _Joan._ - - Whya, Darby, prethee, let ma see, - Ah whoap it’s nowt ’at’s bad o’ me. - - _Darby._ - - Thee, Joan! neea, marry, neea sike thing. - Think bad o’ thee! ’twad be a sin. - Ah think, indeed, Ah war a feeal - Ti send oor Nell ti t’ Boordin’-skeeal. - Sike mauky feeals ez them, Ah think, - ‘Ev filled her heead wi’ prahd an’ stink, - Foor, sin’ sha went, sha’s grown seea fine, - Sha caan’t deea nowt wi’oot her wine, - When t’ dinner’s owered, an’ sha’s seea neyce, - Sha weean’t eat puddin’ meead o’ rice, - Thoff when at skeeal an’ put ti t’ pinch, - Fra sike good stuff sha’d nivver flinch. - An’ all her notions are seea raased, - It’s fit ti to’n her feyther crazed, - Fer leyke a toon wench, Ah declare, - Sha walks abroad wi’ breasts all bare— - To show her shoon, an’ hosen clocked, - Sha lifts her sket whahl Ah’s fair shocked; - Nut ’at Ah care aboot t’ fond lass, - Neea mair ’an this—it taks mah brass, - An’ wiv her fine lang labbering tail, - Sha’ll git her fathther inti jail. - - _Joan._ - - Whya, Darby, bud thoo knaws ther ’s t’ Squire, - An’ he, mayhap, will Nell admire, - An’ efter all ther noise an’ strife, - Thoo knaws t’ young Squire he wants a weyfe. - Then let ’s be seear ti mak her smairt, - An’ teeach her hoo ti plaay her pairt; - Sha seean ’ll mak him towards her leean, - An’ then thoo knaws ’at t’ wark is deean. - Ez fer her breasts an’ bare at t’ airms, - It’s feshion noo ti show yan’s chairms. - Men leyke ti knaw, Ah’ve heeard it sed, - What’s real an’ fause afoor they wed; - Hoose’er, Ah’ll try an’ deea mah best, - An’ leeave ti thee ti mannish t’ rest. - - _Darby._ - - Bud, then, suppooase oor plot s’u’d fail, - An’ me foor debt be sent ti jail, - Poor Nell wad nivver be a weyfe, - An’ ‘ev ti laabur all her leyfe; - Foor efter sha’s seea browten up, - Hoo can sha ivver bahd ti stoop - Ti gan ti sarvice, ur ti spin, - Or ivver ti deea onnything? - - _Joan._ - - Whya, Darby, leeave it all ti me, - Ah’ll mannish ’t weel, an’ that thoo’ll see; - Ah’ll be her pilot all mah leyfe, - An’ mak her sum rich farmer’s weyfe. - Then ez tha gan ti chetch, doon t’ toon, - Ah’s seear thoo’ll saay, ‘Weel deean, oor Joan.’ - - - T’ DEEATH OV AWD DEEASY. - - AN ECLOGUE. - - GEOORGY AND ROBIN. - [_Date about 1800._] - - - _Geoorgy._ - - Weel met, good Robin. Seed ya my au’d meer? - Ah’ve laated her an hoor i’ t’ looaning here, - Bud hoosumivver, spite ov all mah care, - Ah caan’t spy her, nowther heead na hair. - - _Robin._ - - Whah, Geoorgy, Ah’ve ti tell ya dowly news, - Sike ez varra leyke ’ll mak ya muse. - Ah just this minit left yer poor au’d tike, - Deead ez a steean, i’ Johnny Dobson’s dyke. - - _Geoorgy._ - - Wheer! What’s that, Robin? Tell uz ower agaan. - Thoo’s jokin’—ur ya’ve mebbe been mistaan. - - _Robin._ - - Neea, marry, Geoorgy; Ah’s seear Ah caan’t be wrang. - Ya knaw Ah’ve kenn’d au’d Deeasy noo seea lang. - Her breead-ratch’d feeace, an’ tweea white hinder legs - Preeav’d it war her, as seear ez eggs is eggs. - - _Geoorgy._ - - Poor thing! What, deead then? ’ed sha ligg’d theer lang? - Wheeraboot is sha? Robin, will ta gan? - - _Robin._ - - Ah care nut, Geoorgy; Ah ’a’en’t mich ti deea— - A good hoor’s laabor, or mayhappen tweea; - Bud ez Ah nivver leyke ti hing behinnd - When Ah[89] can deea a kahndness tiv a frinnd, - An Ah[89] can help ya wi’ mah hand or teeam - Ah’ll help ti skin her, ur t’ fetch her heeam. - - _Geoorgy._ - - Thank ya, good Robin. Ah caan’t think, belike, - Hoo t’ poor au’d creature tumm’l’d inti t’ dyke. - - _Robin._ - - Ya mahnd, sha’d fun hersel just boon ti dee, - An’ seea laid doon byv t’ sahd (ez ’t seeams ti me), - An’ when sha felt, mun, t’ paans o’ deeath wi’in, - Sha stakker’d, tumm’l’d, fick’d, then toupled in. - - _Geoorgy._ - - Maist leykly—bud—what, war sha deead ootreet - When fo’st thoo fand her, when ta gat t’ fo’st seet? - - _Robin._ - - Ya s’ hear, ez Ah war gahin doon t’ looan, Ah spy’d - A scoore or mair o’ creeaks byv t’ gutter sahd, - All seea thrang, hoppin’ in an’ hoppin’ oot, - Ah wunder’d what i’ t’ wo’lld tha war aboot. - Ah leeaks, an’ then Ah sees t’ au’d yode[90] leead, - Gaspin’ an’ pantin’ sair, an’ ommaist deead. - An’ ez tha pick’d it een, an’ pick’d ageean, - It just could lift it leg, an’ give a greean; - Bud when Ah fand au’d Deeasy war ther prey, - Ah wav’d mah hat, an’ shoo’d ’em all awaay. - Poor Deeas’! Ya mahnd, sha ’s noo worn fairly oot, - Sha’s lang been quite hardset ti traail aboot— - Bud yonder, Geoorgy, leeak ya, wheer sha’s leead, - An’ tweea ’r three nanpies chatt’rin’ ower her heead. - - _Geoorgy._ - - Hey, marry! This Ah nivver wished ti see; - Sha’s been seea good—seea trew a frinnd ti me. - An’ ‘ez ta cum’d ti this, mah poor au’d meer? - Thoo’s been a trusty sarvant monny a yeear; - An’ better treeatment thoo ’s desarv’d fra me, - ‘An thus neglected iv a dyke ti dee. - Monny a good day’s wark wa’ve wrowt tigither, - An’ bodden monny a blast o’ wind an’ weather; - Monny a lang dree mahle, ower moss an’ moor, - An’ monny a hill an’ deeal wa’ve toddled ower. - Bud noo, wae’st[91] me! thoo’ll nivver trot neea mair, - Ti nowther kirk, na market, spoort, na fair; - An’ noo foor t’ futur’, thoff Ah’s au’d an’ leeam, - Ah s’all be forced ti walk, ur stay at heeam. - Neea mair thoo’ll bring ma cooals fra Blakey-Broo, - Ur sticks fra t’ wood—Ah s’ ‘a’e ti drag ’em noo. - Ma poor au’d Deeas’! afoor Ah dig thi greeave, - Thi weel-worn shoon Ah will foor keepseeaks seeave; - Thi hide, poor lass! Ah’ll ’ev it tann’d wi care, - ‘T’ll mak a cover ti mah au’d airm-cheer, - An’ pairt an appron foor mah weyfe ti weear - When cardin’ woul ur weshin’ t’ parlour fleear. - Deep i’ t’ cau’d yeth Ah will thi carcase pleeace, - ‘At thi poor beeans maay lig an’ rist i’ peeace; - Deep i’ t’ cau’d yeth, ’at t’ dogs mayn’t scrat tha oot, - An’ rahve thi flesh an’ trail thi beeans aboot. - Thoo ’s been seea faithful foor seea lang ti me, - Thoo s’annot at thi deeath neglected be. - Seldom a Christian ’at yan noo can finnd, - Wad be mair trusty ur mair trew a frinnd. - _Anon._ - - - THE INVASION. - - AN ECLOGUE. - [_Date_ 1810.] - - - A wanton wether had disclaimed its bonds - ‘At kept him cleease wivin Au’d Willie’s grunds, - Brakt thruff t’ hedge an’ wander’d far astraay, - He kenn’d nut whither, alang t’ au’d to’npik waay. - Ez Willie wrowt wi’ neea larl care - T’ fence wi’ stake an’ thorns t’ gap ti repair, - His neighbour Roger, heeam fra t’ fair reto’n’d, - Then cam i’ seet, i’ rahding graith[92] weel don’d[93], - Wheea seean ez Willy, fast drawing nigh he spies, - Thus tiv his frinnd fra t’ back o’ t’ hedge he cries. - - _Willy._ - - Noo, then; what, Roger! ‘ ya been ti t’ fair? - Hoo gans things? Maad ya onny bargaans theer? - - _Roger._ - - Ah knaw nut, Willy, things deean’t leeak ower weel; - Coorn sattles fast, thoff beeas ’ll fetch a deeal. - Ti sell t’ au’d intak barley, Ah desaund[94], - Bud c’u’dn’t git a bid ti suit mah mahnd[95]. - What wi’ rack rents, an’ sike a want o’ traad, - Ah knawn’t hoo yan’s ti git yan’s landloord paad; - Mairower an’ that, tha saay i’ t’ spring o’ t’ year - T’ Franch is intarmin’d[96] ti ’tack uz here. - - _Willy._ - - Yea, mun! What are tha cummin’ hither foor? - Depend on ’t, they’d far better nivver stor. - - _Roger._ - - True, Willy—nobbut Inglishmen ’ll stand - By yan anuther; o’ ther awn good land - Tha’ll nivver suffer, Ah s’ be bun ti saay, - T’ Franchmen ti tak a sing’l sheep awaay; - Feightin’ foor heeam upo’ ther awn fair field, - All t’ poo’r o’ France c’u’d nivver mak ’em yield. - - _Willy._ - - Whya, seear yan cannot think, when put ti t’ pinch, - ‘At onny Inglishmen ’ll iwer flinch. - If t’ Franch deea cum, wha, Roger, Ah’ll be hang’d, - An tha deean’t git thersens reet soondly bang’d, - Ah can’t bud think—thoff Ah may be misteean— - Nut monny on ’em ’ll git back ageean. - - _Roger._ - - Ah think nut, Willy; bud sum fau’k ’ll say - Oor Inglish fleet let t’ Franch ships git awaay - When tha war laid—thoo knaws—i’ Bantry Bay, - ‘At tha c’u’d nivver all ’a’e gi’en ’em t’ slip, - Bud t’ Inglish wanted nut ti tak a ship. - - _Willy._ - - Eah! that ’s all lees! - - _Roger._ - - Ah dunnot saay it’s trew, - It’s all unknawn ti sike ez me an’ yow. - Hoo deea wa knaw when t’ fleets deea reet ur wrang? - Ah whooap it ’s all on ’t fause[97]—bud seea talks gan. - Hoosivver, this Ah knaw, ’at when tha pleease, - Oor sailors allus beeat ’em upo’ t’ seeas, - An’ if tha nobbut sharply leeak aboot, - Tha needn’t let a sing’l ship cum oot; - At leeast, tha’ll drub ’em weel, I dunnot fear, - An’ keep ’em fairly off fra landing here. - - _Willy._ - - Ah whooap seea, Roger; bud an’ if tha deea - Cum ower, Ah then s’all sharpen mah au’d leea[98]. - What thoff Ah can bud ov a lahtle boast, - Ya knaw yan wadn’t ’a’e that lahtle lost. - Ah s’ send oor Molly an’ all t’ bairns awaay, - An’ Ah mysen ’ll byv t’ au’d yamsteead staay. - Ah’ll feight, if need; an’ if Ah fall, wha, then - Ah s’ suffer all t’ warst mishap mysen. - War Ah bud seear my weyfe an’ bairns war seeaf, - Ah then s’u’d be ti dee content eneeaf. - - _Roger._ - - Reet, Willy, mun! What an tha put uz teea ’t, - Ah will mysen put forrad mah best feeat; - What thoff Ah ’s au’d, Ah ’s nut seea easily scar’d— - On his awn middin, an au’d cock feights hard. - Tha saay a Franchman ’s to’n’d a different man, - A braver, better sojer ten ti yan; - Bud let t’ Franch be to’n’d ti what he will, - Tha’ll finnd ’at Inglishmen are Inglish still— - O’ ther awn grund tha’ll nowther flinch na flee, - Tha’ll owther conger, or tha’ll bravely dee. - _Anon._ - - - COMIC SONG. - - A BEAUTIFUL BOY. - [_Date about 1750._] - - - ‘Twar yance on a tahm, aboot six i’ t’ morn, - When fo’st Ah saw leet—Ah meean, Ah war born. - Ther war t’ doctor an’ t’ nuss, an’ a gert monny mair, - Bud neean on ’em ’ed seen sike a babby afoor. - Ah’d t’ neease o’ mah dad, an’ t’ een o’ mah mam, - Seea wi’ sleet alterations Ah varra seean cam - Wivoot onny doot or the sleetest o’ sham - Ti be a maist beautiful boy. - - Ti mak ma a beauty, skriked oot Mrs. Sneer, - ‘He’ll be t’ taal end o’ nowt, bidoot a sweet leer.’ - Seea ti gi’e ma this leer, yan on ’em shoots oot, - ‘When he’s tumm’l’d asleep, lig a weight on his snoot.’ - Which maad ma ti wink an’ ti blink O! - Whahl t’ ladies kenn’d nut what ti think O! - Bud tha mannish’d ti gi’e ma a squint O! - An’ maad ma a beautiful boy. - - Ti finish ma off, Ah needed yah thing. - My gob ower-straight war—Ah meean for ti sing— - Seea ti lug it an’ tug it all t’ lot on ’em tried, - Whahl they stritched mah poor gob ommaist hauf a yard wide, - Shooting, ‘Pull awaay, noo, Mrs. Ryder, - It’s stritching a lahtle bit wider,’ - An’ Dolly, wheea stood just ashad her, - Sed, ‘Oh! what a beautiful boy!’ - - When they’d finish’d ma off, tha sent ma ti skeeal. - T’ lads an’ t’ lasses all gen’d ez Ah sat o’ mah steeal, - An’ when they went yam tha sed ’at tha’d seen - T’ fresh lad at skeeal wi’ sike beautiful een. - ‘He can leeak onny road, an’ that’s handy, - His gob ’s reetly shapp’d ti suck candy, - Whahl his legs are what tha call bandy— - Gocks! bud he’s a beautiful boy!’ - - T’ uther daay Ah war ax’d i’ t’ city ti dine, - When t’ lasses i’ rapters all thowt ma divine; - An’ t’ lot, whahl admiring mah elegant grace, - Let ther dinners aleean ti gaze i’ mah feeace, - Then sigh’d, ‘Ah s’all swound wi’ surprise O! - T’ sunleet caan’t match his dear eyes O! - He’s sike a neyce mooth foor mince-pies O! - Oh! kiss uz, you beautiful boy!’ - - Ah sed, ‘Lasses, beware o’ love’s piercing darts, - Foor feearful Ah be Ah s’all steeal all yer hearts; - An’ then, mah deear lasses, ya’ll sob an’ ya’ll sigh, - When you think o’ mah charms, whahl ya’ll langwish an’ dee. - Ah can kiss, bud Ah caan’t wed ya all, - Bud Ah wad if Ah mud, gert an’ small; - Ah lang for ti cuddle ya all, - For, ya ken, Ah’s a beautiful boy.’ - - -Mr. Fossick, of Carthorpe, kindly gave me the above (and several -others). He tells me it was sung when his grandfather was a boy. As -Mr. Fossick was born in the early years of this century, I am not in -the least antedating it. Though turned eighty, the last time I saw Mr. -Fossick, for two hours he recited poetry without having to halt for a -single word. It is in a great measure owing to the wonderful memories -possessed by our old people that I have been able to collect the matter -for this work. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - - A FEW SIMPLE HINTS ON THE GRAMMAR OF THE FOLK-SPEECH - - - THE ARTICLE. - -There is no variation in the usage of the indefinite article, save that -it still retains its place before participles and the adjectives _few_, -_many_, and _great many_. - - Ex.—‘He started a calling o’ ma, an’ Ah started a genning at him, an’ - then wa set ti wark a lethering yan anuther,’ - -Educated people do not nowadays say, ‘I sat a sipping of my tea, and a -smiling at the kettle a singing on the hob,’ No, it sounds quaint. And -to those who know as little of their Shakespeare as they do of their -Bibles, such speech is put down to ignorance, or a lack of education, -when in point of fact they are listening to an echo of that old-time -speech which was in full swing long before their great grandmothers -were born, and used by really quite respectable people; e.g.— - - ‘As he was yet _a_ coming’ (Luke ix. 42). - - ‘I go _a_ fishing’ (John xxi. 3). - - ‘While the ark was _a_ preparing’ (1 Pet. iii. 20). - - ‘His greatness is yet _a_ ripening’ (_Henry VIII_). - - ‘There is some ill _a_ brewing towards my rest’ (_Merchant of Venice_, - Act ii. Sc. 5). - -In such cases, however, ‘a’ cannot be parsed as an article. Many -opinions have been given, but perhaps Cobbett, who holds it to be an -abbreviation for ‘at,’ meaning ‘without doubt,’ has gained the most -supporters. In the _Spectator_, No. 86, we find, ‘Socrates’ disciples -burst out _a_ laughing,’ and in No. 420, ‘The spirits which set the -springs _a_ going.’ Such are by no means archaic forms of speech in the -North Riding, ‘bud ez common ez pigs _a_ grunting at yan anuther.’ - -The definite article, as mentioned elsewhere, is ‘t’.’ To this rule -there are very few exceptions. Before certain letters it is almost -inaudible; nevertheless, it is always there. It may be said, and with -truth, that a perfect mastery of the definite article, both in speaking -and hearing it spoken, has advanced those desirous of knowing something -of our folk-speech—rather more than half of their journey. I know many -people who are fluent speakers of the dialect, but who read it, even -when in printed form, with the greatest difficulty; others who can read -fairly well, but so far as understanding the dialect when spoken, might -as well listen to a batch of Chocktaw Indians, as two or three good old -Yorkshire dames when fairly letting out. - -A Frenchman once said to me, ‘I could understand you English people, -if you did not speak so quickly.’ Aye, just so, and so would many -another body from other counties understand a great deal of what our -country folk say if each word was uttered separately, but with us, as -in standard English, very frequently no pause is made between commas; -so the difficulty increases tenfold, when a stranger strives to follow -a fairly classical dalesman or woman. Take, for instance, a few words -which the other day I heard a woman shout across a village street to -her daughter. Firstly, as they sounded when uttered, then the same as -they would be written, and thirdly, the translation. - -_As spoken._ Teggattenlaadsitwinner. - -_As written._ T’ egg at t’ ‘en laad’s i’ t’ winner[99]. - -_Standard English._ The egg (that) the hen laid is in the window. - - -NUMBER. - -This, with only a few exceptions, follows the ordinary rule of grammar. - - -CASE. - -The possessive case is noted elsewhere. - - -GENDER. - -The same as in standard English, with this slight deviation: many -things which are neuter are spoken of as being of the feminine gender. -Ex.—‘Sha’s a fine stack;’ ‘Sha’s a bit rough ti-daay,’ speaking of the -sea; ‘Sha’s gitten a fine bole on her,’ speaking of an oak. There can -be no rule given for guidance, because in a compound sentence the same -noun is sometimes both feminine and neuter. A man speaking of his -watch said, ‘It’s yan ov t’ best ’at Ah ivver ’ed; sha’s a good un,’ -i.e. ‘It is one of the best that I ever had; she is a good one.’ - - -ADJECTIVES. - -Adjectives which in standard English are compared by the addition of -_more_ and _most_ to the positive, generally form their degrees of -comparison by the addition of _er_ or _r_ for the comparative, and -_ist_ or _st_ for the superlative; e.g.— - - POSITIVE. COMPARATIVE. SUPERLATIVE. - True truer truist - Expensive expensiver expensivist. - Dangerous dangerouser dangerousist. - Okkad (awkward) okkader okkadist. - Forrad (forward) forrader fo’derist. - -Though it is quite common to hear such expressions as ‘mair okkader’ or -‘t’ maist okkadist,’ and the like, with other adjectives, it is also -not uncommon for the adjective to be used as an adverb, as ‘It’s easy -deean.’ - - -PERSONAL PRONOUNS. - -FIRST PERSON. - - _Nom._ _Poss._ _Obj._ - {I, thou, he, she, it. {I mine me. - SING. {Ah, thoo, tha, _or_ ta, SING. {Ah mahn ma. - { he, sha, it, ’t. - - PLU. {We you they us. PLU. {Thou thine thee. - {Wa ya tha uz. {Thoo thahn thee. - -There is no rule to guide the student in the use of _thoo_, _tha_, -_ta_. In a general way _ta_ follows an auxiliary verb, and _thoo_, used -in the accusative case, is definite in its application. ‘He’s shooting -o’ thoo,’ and ’he’s shooting o’ tha,’ have a well-marked distinction -of meaning. ‘He’s shooting o’ thoo’ implies that the person told of -the fact is the actual person being shouted of; not only does it point -him out from amongst many, but the fact that _thoo_ was used further -implies that the shouting had better be attended to at once. ‘He’s -shooting o’ tha,’ is merely certain information given, making known to -some other person that he was being called for without regard to others. - - -RELATIVE PRONOUNS. - - Who which that. - Wheea _or_ whau which that _or_ ’at[100]. - -_Who_ and _which_ are declined as follows. _That_ and _what_ as in -standard English. - - -SINGULAR AND PLURAL. - - STAND. ENG. NTH. RIDING. | STAND. ENG. NTH. RIDING. - _Nom._ Who whau, | Which which. - wheea. | - _Poss._ Whose whaus | Whose wheeas, - wheeas. | whaus. - _Obj._ Whom whaum. | Which which. - -The compound relatives are formed by the addition of _ever_ and -_soever_; _’at_ forming the compound _’ativver_, i.e. _whatever_. - - -POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS and the compound personal and possessives are -formed as under:— - - STAND. ENG. My mine thy thine his her - NTH. RIDING. Mah mahn {thah} thahn his her - {thi } - - STAND. ENG. Its our your their own - NTH. RIDING. Its oor _or_ wer yer ther awn - - STAND. ENG. Myself thyself himself herself - NTH. RIDING. {Mahsel thisel hissel hersel - {Mahsen thisen hissen hersen - - STAND. ENG. Itself ourselves yourselves - NTH. RIDING. {Itsel oorsels _or_ -sens yersels - {Itsen wersels _or_ -sens yersens - - STAND. ENG. Theirselves ownselves. - NTH. RIDING. {Thersels awnsels - {Thersens awnsens. - - -DEMONSTRATIVE PRONOUNS. - -_This_ and _that_ are used as follows:— - -_This_ refers to an object near at hand, _that_ is rarely used, _yon_ -being almost universal, e.g. ‘Yon man ower theer ’ll tell tha.’ _Q._ -‘Which is Mister Thompson?’ _A._ ‘Yon chap’s him,’ i.e. ‘That man is -Mr. Thompson.’ - - -INDEFINITE PRONOUNS. - - Any both some other another one none such - Onny beeath sum uther anuther yan neean sich, sike - -_Yan_ and _yah_ are noticed elsewhere, also _vide_ Glossary. - - -ADVERBS. - -Adverbial peculiarities are fully noticed in the Glossary. - -The PREPOSITIONS and ADVERBS mostly in use are:— - - About, _aboot_. - - Above, _aboon_. - - Across, _quarrelled_. ‘Him an’ me’s gitten across.’ - - After, _efter_ or _efther_[101]. - - Against, _ower agaanst_, near to. - - Among, _amang_. Amongst, _amangst_. - - Before, _afoor_. ‘For afore the harvest, when the bud is perfect’ - (Isa. xviii. 5). - - Behind, _ahint_. - - Between, _atween_. - - Betwixt, _atwixt_. - - Beyond, _ayont_, _beyont_. - - By, _byv_ or _by_, pronounced _be_. - - From, _fra_ before a consonant, _frev_ before a vowel. - - In, _i’_. - - Into, _intiv_, _inti_, _intil_. - - Near, _near-hand_. - - Nigh, _near_, _ommaist_, also _nigh_. - - Of, _ov_ and _foor_. - - Over, _ower_ and _aboon_. - - Beyond, _past_. ‘He did entreat me _past_ my saying nay’ (_Merchant of - Venice_, Act iii. Sc. 2). - - Too, _ower_. - - With, _wi’_, _wiv_. - -_Until_ is never used, _whahl_ always taking its place: no exception to -this rule. - -It may be noted this peculiarity extends to the south of -Northamptonshire. - - -THE VERB. - -It will only be possible to note one or two of the more striking -peculiarities. - - -TO BE. - -_Indicative Mood._ - -Has two forms of the present tense. - - SINGULAR. PLURAL. - Ah is, _or_ Ah’s. _I am_, &c. Wă } {Wa’re, _we are_. - Thoo is, _or_ Thoo’s. Yă } are, _or_ {Ya’re. - He, Sha, _or_ it is. Thă} {Thă’re. - -Also the older form is quite common— - - SINGULAR. PLURAL. - Ah be. _I am_, &c. Wă } - Thoo beest _or_ byst. Yă } be. - He be. Thă} - -Examples:— - - ‘Ah be gahin’ ti morn.’ - - ‘Thoo byst efter neea good.’ - - ‘We be twelve brethren’ (Gen. xlii. 32). - - ‘If thou beest he’ (_Paradise Lost_, Bk. i. 84). - - ‘If thou beest death’ (_Henry VI, Part II_, Act iii. Sc. 3). - - ‘If thou beest rated by estimation’ (_Merchant of Venice_, Act ii. Sc. - 7). - - -IMPERFECT. - - SINGULAR. PLURAL. - Ah war, wur, _or_ wuz. _I was_, &c. Wa } - Thoo war, wur, _or_ wast Ya } war, wur, _or_ wuz - He war, wur, _or_ wuz. Tha} - - -PERFECT. - -‘Ev _or_ hev. The aspirate is rarely heard. - - SINGULAR. PLURAL. - Ah ’ev been. _I have been_, &c. Wa } - Thoo ’est been. Ya } ’ev been. - He’s _or_ he ’ez been. Tha} - - -PLUPERFECT. - -Ah hed _or_ ’ed been, &c. - - -FIRST FUTURE. - -Ah s’all _or_ will be, &c. - - -SECOND FUTURE. - -Ah s’all _or_ will ’ev been, _or_ Ah s’all ’a’e been. - - -_Imperative Mood._ - - SINGULAR. PLURAL. - Let ma be. Let uz be. - Be thoo. Be ya. - Be he, let him, her, _or_ it be. {Let ’em be. - {Be tha. - - -_Subjunctive Mood._ - -SINGULAR. - - Ah be, _or_ Ah maay _or_ can be. - Be thoo, _or_ thoo mayest _or_ canst be. - He be, _or_ he may _or_ can be. - -PLURAL. - - Wa } - Ya } may _or_ can be. - Tha} - - -IMPERFECT. - -SINGULAR. - - Ah war, mud, c’u’d, wad, _or_ s’u’d be } - Thoo wert, mudst, c’u’dst, wadst, _or_ s’u’dst be} loved. - He war, mud, c’u’d, wad, _or_ s’u’d be } - -PLURAL. - - Wa war, } - Ya war, } wur, mud, c’u’d, wad, _or_ s’u’d be loved. - Tha war,} - - -PERFECT. - - Ah maay _or_ can ’ev } - Tho maayst _or_ canst ’ev } loved. - Tha may _or_ can ’ev } - - -PLUPERFECT. - - SINGULAR. PLURAL. - Ah mud, &c. Wa mud, &c. - - -_Infinitive Mood._ - - PRESENT. PERFECT. - Ti be. Ti ’a’e _or_ ’ev been. - - -_Participles._ - - PRESENT. PERFECT. COMPOUND PERFECT. - Being. Been. ‘Evin’ been. - - -TO HAVE. - - SINGULAR. PLURAL. - Ah’ve, Ah ’a’e, _or_ Ah ’ev. _I - have_, &c. Wa’ve, ‘, or ’ev. _We have._ - Thoo’s _or_ thoo ’ez. Ya’ve, ‘, _or_ ’ev. - He’s _or_ he ’ez. Tha’ve, ‘, _or_ ’ev. - - -PERFECT. - - Ah’d, Ah ’ed. _I had._ Wa’d, wa ’ed. - Thoo’d, thoo ’ed. Ya’d, ya ’ed. - He’d, he ’ed. Tha’d, tha ’ed. - - -_Affirmative._ - - Ah’ve, _or_ Ah ’ev tă’en. Wa’ve, _or_ wa ’ev tă’en. - _I have taken._ _We have taken._ - - Thoo’s tă’en. Ya’ve, _or_ ya ’ev tă’en. _You have taken._ - He’s tă’en. Tha’ve, _or_ tha ’ev tă’en. - _They have taken._ - - -_Negative._ - - Ah ’evn’t, _or_ Ah ’a’en’t ta’en. Wă ’evn’t, _or_ wă ’a’en’t ta’en. - _I have not taken._ _We have not taken._ - Thoo’s nut, _or_ thoo ’ezn’t [102]Yă’ve nut, _or_ yă ’a’en’t - ta’en. ta’en. _You have not taken._ - He’s nut, _or_ he ’ezn’t ta’en. [102]Thă’ve nut, or thă ’a’en’t - ta’en. _They have not taken._ - - -_Interrogative._ - - SINGULAR. PLURAL. - ‘Ev Ah ta’en? _Have I taken?_ ‘Ev wă, _or_ ‘ wă ta’en? - _Have we taken?_ - ‘Ez tă ta’en? ‘Ev yă, _or_ ‘ yă ta’en? - ‘Ez ă[103] ta’en? ‘Ev thă, _or_ ‘ thă ta’en? - - -IMPERFECT TENSE. - - Ah’d, _or_ Ah ’ed. _I had._ Wa’d, _or_ wa ’ed. _We had._ - Thoo’d, _or_ thoo ’ed. _Thou hadst._ Ya’d, _or_ ya ’ed. _You had._ - He’d, _or_ he ’ed. _He had._ Tha’d, _or_ tha ’ed. _They had._ - - - _Imperative Mood._ - - ‘A’e _or_ ’ev (have). - - - _Infinitive Mood._ - - Ti ’ev, _or_ ti ’a’e. _To have._ - - - _Participles._ - - PRESENT. PAST. - ‘Evin’, _having_. ‘Ed _or_ ’ad, _had_. - - -TO DO. - -_Indicative Mood._ - -PRESENT TENSE. - - SINGULAR. PLURAL. - Ah deea, diz, _or_ duz. _I do._ Wă } - Thoo diz _or_ duz. Yă } deea _or_ div. - He diz _or_ duz. Thă} - - SINGULAR. PLURAL. - Ah deean’t. _I do not._ Wa deean’t _or_ divn’t[104]. - Thoo dizn’t _or_ deean’t. Ya deean’t _or_ divn’t. - He dizn’t. Tha deean’t _or_ divn’t. - - -MAY. - - Ah maay. Wa } - Thoo maayst. Ya } maay. - He maay. Tha} - -IMPERFECT TENSE—Might. - - Ah mud _or_ might. Wa } - Thoo mud. Ya } mud _or_ might. - He mud. Tha} - - Must. Must not. - SINGULAR. PLURAL. SINGULAR. PLURAL. - Ah } Wa } Ah } maun’t Wa } maun’t - Thoo} mun. Ya } mun. Thoo} _or_ Ya } _or_ - He } Tha} He } munnot. Tha} munnot. - - -TO GO. - -ACTIVE VOICE. - -_Indicative Mood._ - -PRESENT TENSE. - - SINGULAR. PLURAL. - Ah gan, _or_ goa. Wa } - Thoo’s gahin’ _or_ gannin’. Ya } gan _or_ goa. - He gans. Tha} - - -INDEFINITE—I was going. - - Ah war, wur, _or_ wuz} gahin’ Wa war, wur, _or_ wuz } gahin’ - Thoo wast _or_ wart } _or_ Ya war, wur, _or_ wuz } _or_ - He war _or_ wuz } gannin’. Tha war, wur, _or_ wuz} gannin’. - - -INDEFINITE PERFECT—I have gone. - - Ah ’ev _or_ Ah’ve } Wa ’ev _or_ wa’ve } - Thoo’s _or_ thoo ’ez} gane _or_ Ya ’ev _or_ ya’ve } gane _or_ - He’s _or_ he ’ez } geean. Tha’ev _or_ tha’ve} geean. - - -_Infinitive Mood._ - - PRESENT. PROGRESSIVE. - Ti gan. _To go._ Ti be gahin’ _or_ gannin’. _To be going._ - - PERFECT. PROGRESSIVE. - Ti ’ev gane _or_ ti ’a’e geean. Ti ’ev been gahin’. - _To have gone._ _To have been going._ - - PRESENT. - Gahin’ _or_ ganning. _Going._ - - PERFECT. - Geean _or_ gane. _Gone._ - - COMPOUND. - Having geean _or_ gane. _Having gone._ - - -Observe _is_ and _be_ generally take the place of _are_ and _am_. In -fact, the latter word is very rarely heard amongst the country people. -‘Are you Tom?’ in the folk-speech, would be, ‘Is ta Tom?’—the answer -would not be ‘Ah am!’ but ‘Ah is!’ - -_Q._ ‘Is ta gahin’ wiv uz[105]?’ i.e. ‘Are you going with me?’ - -_A._ ‘Neea, Ah’s nut,’ or ‘Neea, Ah isn’t,’ i.e. ‘No, I is not’ (I am -not). - -_Nobbut_, as a sign of the conditional mood, is quite as general as -_if_. - -_Q._ ‘Will ta cum?’ Will you come? - -_A._ ‘Nobbut it be owt leyke, an’ nobbut I git deean;’ i. e. ‘If it be -anything like’ (as to weather), ‘and if only I finish my work.’ - -It is not uncommon to hear the future tense used for the present, and -in many instances the country people, as it were, confuse the perfect -tense and perfect participle. ‘Ah’ve chose t’ whip ’at Ah want.’ ‘I -have chosen the whip I want (_or_ like).’ - -‘’Ez ta broke t’ winder?’ would be asked in a whisper, but ‘Aye, he’s -brokken ’t,’ would certainly be the form in which it would be shouted -to the other boys. ‘Ah’ve spoke tiv him mair ’an yance,’ would be the -form such a declaration would take from one confiding to another the -hopelessness of making any further entreaties; but ‘Ah’ve spokken tiv -him ower an’ up agaan,’ would be the language used when temper was -in the ascendent. Nevertheless, those who would consider vulgar such -sentences as have been given, are apt to forget that the accepted rules -which govern the speech of to-day are only correct because they are of -to-day. The rules which were once accepted may have been laid aside in -favour of others; but the country people move slowly—their speech is -that of their grandparents, and it is what they have been used to all -their lives. They know nothing of the new order of things. And again, -they keep very good company. - -Examples:— - - ‘I have already _chose_ my officer.’ - _Othello_, Act i. Sc. 1. - - - ‘Methought this staff, mine office badge in court, was _broke_ in - twain.’—_Henry VI, Part II_, Act i. Sc. 2. - - - ‘By what yourself too late have _spoke_ and done.’ - _King Lear_, Act i. Sc. 4. - - - ‘Why was this _forbid_?’—_Paradise Lost_, Bk. ix. 703. - - ‘Waiting desirous her return, had wove - Of choicest flowers a garland.’ - _Paradise Lost_, Bk. ix. 839. - - -Steele, in the _Spectator_ (No. 344), has, ‘I have _wrote_ to you three -or four times.’ And he is generally acknowledged to have been a fairly -good scholar, but then his writings go back a hundred years, and they -spoke differently then. Our people speak very much like it now. - -The formation of the perfect and of the participle vary considerably -from that of ordinary grammar. As a rule the past participle is formed -by the addition of _en_. There are other striking peculiarities in the -vowel changes. A list of some of the leading ones is here given. - - - _Present._ _Perfect._ _Participles._ - Build Belt Belt - Beeat (beat) Bet Betten - Bid Bad Bidden, bodden - Binnd (bind) Bun _or_ bund Bun, bund, _or_ bunden - Bleead (bleed) Bled, blaad Bledden - Break, breek (break) Brak Brokken - Brust (burst) Brast Brussen, brossen - Cast Kest Kessen - Cheease (choose) Choaze Chozzen - Coss (curse) Coss’d Coss’d, cossen - Cost Cost Cossen - Creeap (creep) Crep _or_ crop Croppen - Cum (come) Cam, com Cum’d - Cut (cut) Cut Cutten - Darr (dare) Dast Darrd - Drahve (drive) Drave Drovven _or_ druvven - Felt (hide) Felt Felted - Feyght (fight) Fowt Fowten - Finnd (find) Fan Fun - Flig (fly) Fligg’d Fligg’d - Fling (fling) Flang Flung - Flit (to change - one’s abode) Flitted Flitten - Freeze (freeze) Fraze Frozzen - Gi’e (give) Gav or ga Geen[106] - Git (get) Gat Gitten, getten, _or_ gotten - Greeap _or_ group - (grope) Grape Groupen _or_ groppen - Grund, grahnd - (grind) Grund Grun _or_ grunded - Ho’d (hold) Ho’ded Ho’dden - Ho’t (hurt) Ho’t Ho’tten - Kep (catch) Kept Kept, keppen - Lap (wrap) Lapt, lapp’d Lappen _or_ lappen’d - Let (let) Let Letten - Lig (lay) Lig’d, lihd Lihn - Lig (lie) Lig’d Liggen _or_ lig’d - Leet (light) Let Letten - Loose (loose) Lowse Lowsen - Loss (lose) Lost Lossen - Preeave (prove) Preeav’d Provven _or_ pruvven - Put (put) Put Putten - Rahd (ride) Rade Ridden _or_ rodden - Rahse (rise) Roase Risen _or_ rosen - Rahve (tear) Rave Rovven - Set Set Setten - Shak (shake) Shak’t Shak’t _or_ shakken - Shed (shed) Shed Shedden - Shoe (shoe) Shod Shodden - Shut (shut) - _or_ shoot Shut Shutten - Sit (sit) Sat Setten - Slet (slit) Slet Slitten - Smit (infect) Smitted Smittel’d - Snaw (snow) Snew Snawn _or_ snaw’d - Speeak (speak) Spak Spokken - Splet (split) Splet Spletten - Spreead (spread) Sprade Sprodden - Stan (stand) Steead Stooden - Stick (stick) Stack Stucken - Straad (stride) Stroade, straad, - _or_ strahd Strodden - Strahve (strive) Strahve _or_ - stroave Struvven _or_ strovven - Strike (strike) Strake, strak Strukken - Tak (take) Teeak, teuk Ta’en, takken, _or_ - tuckken - Tell Tell’d, tell’t Tell’d, tell’t - Thrahve (thrive) Throv, thrahve Throvven - Thrust (thrust) Thrast, throst Throssen _or_ thrussen - Treead (tread) Trade, tred Trodden - Wet (wet) Wet Wetten - Win (win) Wan Won - Worrk (work) Wrowt, wark’d Wrowt _or_ wrowten - Wreyte (write) Wrate Written - - -CONJUNCTIONS. - -Some of those generally in use will be found contained in the following -request:— - - ‘Tommy’s cum’d, _an’_ Jimmy _an’ all_. Noo, _if so be as hoo ’at_ wa - caan’t finnd hoos-room for baith _on_[107] ’em, could thoo, _wivoot_ - putting thisen aboot, mannish ti tak Jimmy in? _Bud, hooivver_, thoo - knaws _if in case ’at_ thoo caan’t mannish ti deea ’t foor all t’ - tahm tha’re here, can ta _whahl_ t’ daay efter ti morn? Tha’ve cum’d - _for ti_ see Mary. _Nowther_ on ’em’s clapt ees on her _sen_ sha went - ti pleeace, _an’ seeaner ’an_ tha s’u’dn’t ’a’e seen her, Ah wad ’a’e - geean ti my aunt Martha; bud Ah’d better stop at yam _ez_ gan theer, - _if so be ’at_ thoo can mannish ’t onny road. _Besides, thoo knaws_ - thi larl Lizzie could cum _an’_ lig wiv oor Freddy, _bidoot_ thoo - _ligs_ her on t’ sōfy. Ah think _’at_ that wad be t’ better waay; noo, - what diz ta saay?’ - - - _Key._ - - ‘Tommy has come, _and_ Jimmy _as well_. Now, _if_ we cannot find room - for both on them, could you, _without_ inconveniencing yourself, - manage to take Jimmy in? _Still, if_ you cannot manage to do so for - all the time they are here, can you _until_ the day after to-morrow. - They have come to see Mary, _neither_ of them having seen her _since_ - she went to place—i.e. situation. _And rather than_ they should have - missed seeing her, I would have gone to my aunt Martha; but I had - better stay at home _than_ go there, _if_ you can manage it anyway. - _Besides_, your little Lizzie could come _and_ sleep with our Freddy, - _unless_ you _lay_ her on the sofa. I think _that_ would be the best; - now, what do you say?’ - - -In reading the key over, it will be found, in several instances, that a -single word does duty for several. This tendency towards redundancy is -very common, e.g. ‘If so be as how ’at wa cannot,’ simply means ‘If we -cannot’; and ‘Besides, thoo knaws,’ is ’besides.’ Instead of the last -word, ‘besides,’ the usage of ‘An’ moreover ’an that’ is very common. - -The rule that prepositions govern the objective case, expressed or -understood, the conjunction never, holds good in the folk-speech. - -The conjunctions in italics are very rarely used, those in brackets -commonly taking their place. - - - ‘Ah s’all be theer (an’ all),’ _as well_. - - ‘(Bud hooivver) thoo mun cum,’ _still_. - - ‘(Wivoot) Ah cum, deean’t start,’ _unless_. - - ‘(Ez) stop wiv him, Ah’ll cum,’ _rather than_. - - ‘Ah’ve cum (for ti) see Tom,’ _in order to_. - - ‘Deean’t leeave t’ hoss (bidoot) he gi’es tha t’ brass,’ _unless_. - - ‘Thoo wait (whahl) Ah cum,’ _until_. - - -There are many who consider the folk-speech of our country people -little better than a mixture of about equal parts of bad grammar and -mispronunciation. Such a notion, I feel sure, can only have arisen from -either a lack of information or undue haste. From such I would humbly -crave a reconsideration of the case. - -I can well understand those who know little of the various sources -through which the standard English of to-day has come down to us, -considering such words as those contained in the following list as -being vulgar—_backerly_, _balk_, _belly-wark_, _botch_, _cant_, -_chaamer_, _clag_, _cleg_, _drukken_, _flacker_, _flit_, _fra_, _lake_, -_lang_, _leck_, _lig_, _lop_, _lown_, _luke_, _mirk_, _neeaze_, -_owerwelt_, _raun_, _roke_, _rud_, _scraffle_, _shive_, _snite_, -_steg_, _stob_, _stower_, _sump_, _theeak_, _thrave_, _till_, &c. -Though some words in the list may be new to the reader, they are -in common usage amongst our people. And what is much more to their -credit, every one of them were doing duty hundreds of years ago. And -as in many cases the pronunciation is identical with that of their -Danish relations, we have grounds for assuming that not only has -the word itself been preserved, but the actual sound in which it was -formerly uttered, though the spelling often differs greatly in the two -countries. Take, as a single example, the North Riding word ’stower’; -the Danish word is spelt ’staver,’ but the pronunciation is exactly the -same in both countries. Therefore, as Angus says, if the sound rather -than the spelling be taken, the similarity of the languages will be -found to be much more striking. A few so-called vulgar words and their -respectable relations are given in the following list. - -NOTE.—Scandinavian in this list must be taken in its widest sense, as -including Old Norse, Frisian, Swedish, and Danish. - - - _North Riding._ _Scandinavian._ _Anglo-Saxon._ _English._ - Backerly Bagerlig ... Late - Backstan Bage-sten ... A stone for baking - cakes on - Balk Balk Balca Beam - Band Baand (O. N.) ... String - Belly-wark Bælg-værk Bælig-wærc Stomach-ache - Bid Byde Beōdan To invite - Bor Borre ... Seed of the burdock - Blendcorn Blandkorn ... Mixed corn - Botch Bota Botian To mend clumsily - Brave Brav ... Goodly - Brede Bredde Bræd Breadth - Cant Kante, Kanta ... To tilt on end - Calf Kalve, _v._ - to calve ... Calf - Chaamer Kammer ... Chamber - Clag Klæg Clæg To stick - Clap Klap ... To pat - Cleg Klæge ... Horse-fly - Clovver Klaver Klaver (Dutch) Clover - Clip Klippe ... To clip - Drukken Drukken ... Drunken - Eaves Ovs Efesse The eaves - Fau’k, Folk, - Fooak Folk ... People - Felt Fela, fiæle Feolan To hide - Flacker Flagre ... To flutter - Flittermouse Flaggermus ... The bat - Flit Flytte ... To remove to another - house - Fore-elders Forældre ... Forefathers - Fra Fra Fra From - Gimmer Gimmer ... Ewe lamb - Glooar Gloe ... To stare - Gob Gab ... Mouth - Havermeal Havre mel ... Oatmeal - Handsel Handsel Handselen First money received - Holm Holm ... Low-lying land - Hoos Hus ... House - Humble-bee Humlebi ... Humble-bee - Kist Kiste Cist A chest - Laat, lait Lait ... To seek - Lake, laak Leka Lacan To play - Lake, laak Leg, lec Lac A game - Lang Læng ... Long - Leck Lække Leccan To leak - Lig Ligge Liggan To lie down - Lop Loppe ... A flea - Lown Luun ... Calm, still - Luke Luge ... To weed - Middin Modding Midding A dunghill - Mirk Mork Mirc Dark - Neeaze Nyse Niesan To sneeze - Owerwelt Awvælt ... To lie on the back - as a sheep - Raun Rawn ... Fish-spawn - Riggintree Rygtræ ... The topmost spar in - the roof - Roke Rok ... A misty rain - Rud Rod[108] ... Red ochre - Scraffle Scravle ... To walk in a feeble - way - Shive Skive ... A slice - Suite Snyde ... To blow the nose - Steg Steggi ... A gander - Stob Stub ... The stump of a tree - Stower Staver ... A stake, a rung - Sump Sump ... Boggy place - Theeak Tække ... Thatch - Thrave Trave ... A number of sheaves - of corn - Till Til ... To - Yule keeak Yule kage ... Yule cake - - -This list might have been greatly extended, but the above suffices for -the purpose of proving that many of the words considered vulgar are -simply venerable through age. If we inquire a little further, we shall -find not only the words, but the form of speech used by our people, -which so often seems ungrammatical, is actually that of the best -writers of bygone ages. The fact is, as has been already stated, our -vocabulary and mode of speech is not of to-day, but belongs to the time -of long ago. - -From Spenser’s _Faerie Queen_ take as examples the following words and -grammatical forms, which are quite common with us to-day:— - - - That seemed both shield and plate it would have _rived_. - _For to_ avenge that foul, reproachful shame. - To lose long _gotten_ honour with one evil hond. - Much greater grief and _shamefuller_ regret. - In hope her to attain by _hook or crook_. - To _tossen_ spear and shield. - _Me leifer_ were with point of foeman’s spear be dead. - ... how stout Deborah _strake_. - Inglorious now lies in senseless _swownd_. - But _lapped_ up her silken leaves most _chare_. - Fast _bounden_ hand and foot with cords of wire. - But, glancing on the tempered metal, _brast_. - And ever and anon, when none was _ware_. - And from her head oft rent her _snarled_ hair. - - -In _Piers Ploughman_, 1362, by R. Langton:— - - Under a brood bank—By a _burn’s_ side. - * * * * * - Some _putten hem_ to the plough. - - -_The Parsone’s Tale_:— - - And _axeth_ of the old ways. - ... ought to _plain_. - - -Wicliff, 1380:— - - And he eat _honeysoukis_. - - -_The Prodigal Sone_, 1380:— - - Tweie sonnes. And the younger of _hem_. - A ryng on his hond, and _schoon_ on his feet. - And when he _cam_. - - -Tyndale, 1534:— - - And not long after the younger sonne _gaddered_ all that he had - _togedder_. - And when he _cam_. - And _axed_ what these things meant. - From the Epistle to the Romans. - - -Also—_Geven_, _goven_, _moun_, _quyt_ (quit = to repay), _stakker -trone_[109] (throne), and scores of others are quite common with us. - -The following past tenses are given by Angus as obsolete, and as having -been so for long:—_fand_, _flang_, _slang_, _stang_, _wan_, _wrang_, -every one of which are in frequent use. - -In Wicliff’s edition of the Bible we have:— - - ‘The keperis weren _afeered_.’ ‘And _brak_.’ ‘The wisdom of this world - _fonned_.’ ‘Clensed with _besyms_.’ ‘Mayster Moses seide if _ony_ - man.’ ‘_Twey_ men.’ ‘_Ridile_ as whete,’ ‘Joseph _lappide_ it’ (St. - Matthew). ‘_Moun_ comprehende with alle seyntis which is _breed_’ - (Eph.). ‘He _concitide_’ (St. Luke). ‘And _telde_ him’ (Acts). ‘It - schal not _rewe_ Him’ (Hebrews). - - -Such words, when uttered by our country people, are not vulgar, though -they may sound odd, but that is because they are old fashioned and -unfamiliar; and if their utterance has no charm for you, then it is -music you never heard in your youth, and which your ear can never -rightly appreciate. So that you may see at a glance to what extent -the language has altered, and how the folk-speech has remained almost -stationary during the last three or four hundred years, let us compare -a few of the commonest North Riding words of to-day with the standard -English of the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth centuries. - - - _Words of the 13th, _Standard English as pronounced - 14th, and 15th _Common North in 1898, or giving - centuries, taken Riding words, the word which has supplanted - from the best 1898._ the older one._ - authors._ - - Afeered Afeeard Afraid - Axed Axed Asked - Besyms Bizzums, buzzums Broom - Bounden Bounden Bound - Brak Brak Broke - Brast Brast Burst - Breede Breed Breadth - Burn Burn Stream - Cam Cam Came - Chare Chare Carefully - Concitide Consated Imagined, opinionated - Fain Fain Gladly - Fand Fand Found - Flang Flang Flung - Flig Flig To fly - Fonned Fond Foolish - Gaddered Gaddered Gathered - Geven Geven(1) } - Goven Govven(1)} Given - Gotten Gotten Got - Lapped Lapped } - Lappide Lapp’t } Wrapped - Laverock Lairock _or_ laverock The lark - Leifer Leif _or_ leifer Soon, willingly - Moniment Moniment Monument - Mown Mun Must - Ony Onny Any - Partinge Parting Division - Plain Pleean Complain - Putten Putten Put - Quyt Quit To repay - Rewe Rewe Repent - Ridile Ruddle _or_ riddle To sift - Shamefuller Shamefuller Very disgraceful - Snarled Snarled Knotted - Stakker Stakker Stagger - Strake Strake Struck - Swownd Swound _or_ soond To faint - Telde Tell’d _or_ tell’t Told - Threpe Threeap Argue, contend - Togedder Togedder Together - Tossen Tossen To throw - Twey Tweea Two - Ware Ware Beware - Wrack Wrack Destruction - By hook or crook By hook or crook By any means - - (1) ‘Gi’en’ is by far the most general. Still, amongst the older - people, one often hears ‘geven’ and ‘govven.’ - - -Need I add more to prove my case? I think not. - -Those interested are requested to read the concluding remarks at the -end of the Glossary. - - - - - GLOSSARY - - OF ABOUT FOUR THOUSAND NORTH RIDING WORDS - - -_Giving only those daily in use at the present time, 1898, together -with more than 1000 sentences as examples of the dialect._ - -FOR RARE AND OBSOLETE WORDS, SEE OTHER GLOSSARIES. - - - N.B.—Some words as we pass from east to west of the North Riding - differ slightly in pronunciation; such, when established over a - sufficiently wide area, have been included in the Glossary. It is - owing to this that the spelling of the same word varies throughout - the work, as in all cases the dialect has been given in accordance - with the pronunciation of the locality in which the incident or - word uttered occurred. As a single example, take ‘fau’k,’ which is - universal along the coast; further inland, in the Great Ayton and - Stokesley district ‘fau’k’ and ‘fooak’ are equally common, whilst in - Wensleydale and Swaledale ‘fooak’ is only heard. - - - ABBREVIATIONS. - - abv. = abbreviated. - _adj._ = adjective. - _adv._ = adverb. - _conj._ = conjunction. - _pron._ = pronoun. - ex. = example. - _intj._ = interjection. - _n._ = noun. - N.R. = North Riding. - _v._ = verb. - _part._ = participle. - _pp._ = past participle. - _prep._ = preposition. - _pret._ = preterit. - _num._ = numeral. - - - A. - - +A+ or +Eh+, _p._ _pr._ He. _Vide_ footnote, p. 326. [TN. Footnote 103] - - +A+, _num._ _adj._ One. _Vide_ +Yah+, +Yan+. - - +A’+, _adj._ All. - - +Aa!+ _intj._ Exclamation of surprise, admiration. - - +Aa+, but. +Aa+, but +Ah saay!+ _intj. of comparison_. - Ex.—_Aa, but Ah saay!_ _Ah aim ’at yon pig’s better ’an oors._ - - +Aback+, _adv._ Behind. - - +Aback o’ beyont+, _adv._ Out of sight, out of the way. - Ex.—_Them things is sadly i’ t’ road. Ah wish thoo’d git ’em aback - o’ beyont._ - - +Abeear+, _v._ To endure. - Ex.—_Ah caan’t abeear t’ seet o’ yon lass._ - - +Aboon+, _prep._ Above. - - +Aboon-heead+, _adv._ Overhead. - Ex.—_It leeaks a bit blackish aboon-heead._ - - +Abraid+, _v._ To wake, to stir up. - - +Abrede+, _adv._ Width. - - +Accorn+, +Yackron+, _n._ The acorn. - - +Acoz+, _conj._ Because; often abv. to ‘’coz.’ - - +Actilly+, _adv._ Actually. - - +Addle+, _adj._ Barren. - - +Addle+, _v._ To earn. - - +Addlin’+, _n._ A term of contempt. - Ex.—_Thoo larl addlin’, ger awaay wi’ tha._ - - +Addlin’s+, _n._ Wages. - - +Admire+, _v._ 1. To approve, to like. - 2. To wonder. - Ex.—1. _Ah deean’t admire a job o’ that soart._ _Ah admire t’ maist - o’ what he did._ - 2. _Ah caan’t bud admire at t’ waay he did it._ - - +Adreead+, _adj._ In a state of fear. - - +‘A’e+, +‘Ev+, _v._ Have. - - +Aether+, +Owther+, _conj._ Either. - - +Afeear’d+, _adj._ and _part._ Afraid, seized with fear. - - +Afoor+, +Afur+, _prep._ Before. - - +Afoor+- or +Afur-lang+, _adv._ Before long, very shortly. - - +After+- or +Efter-birth+, _n._ Placenta. - - +Afterwit, Efterwit+, _n._ An idea which strikes one often when too - late to remedy a mistake. - - +Agaan+, +Ageean+, _prep._ Again. - - +Agaanst+ or +Ageeanst+, _prep._ Against. - - +Agaate+, +Ageeat+, _adv._ 1. On the way. - 2. Begun; also used as a _part._ - 3. To disturb. - 4. To set going. - Ex.—1. _Wa s’all git agaate ti morn at morn._ - 2. _Ah’s agaate wi’ ‘t noo._ - 3. _Naay, what! Ah’d gitten all sattled peeacably, an’ thoo gans an’ - sets ’em all agaate agaan._ - 4. _Ah’ve putten a new pin in, an’ sha’s agaate agaan noo._ - - +Agee+, _adv._ Askew. - - +Ah+, _per. pron._ I. - - +Ah’ll+, I will. - - +Ah’ll awaand+, I will warrant. - - +Ah’ll be bun+, I will be bound, I am sure. - - +Ahint+, _adv._ and _prep._ Behind. - - +Aiblings+, _adv._ Maybe, perhaps. - - +Aim+, +Aam+, +Yam+, _v._ 1. To intend. 2. To be under the impression. - _Vide_ chapter on ‘Idioms.’ - Ex.—1. _Wa aim ti start ti flit ti morn fust thing_, i.e. ‘We intend - to remove our goods first thing to-morrow.’ - 2. _Ah yam’d ’at he war Tommy’s bairn_, i.e. ‘I thought that he was - Tom’s bairn.’ - - +Airm+, _n._ Arm. - - +Airt+, _n._ Point of the compass. - Ex.—_What airt is t’ wind in? Whya, sha’s nobbut iv a bad airt; Ah - doot ’at it’s nut gahin’ ti tak up._ - - +Al+, +Yal+, _n._ Ale. - - +Alaane+, +Aleean+, _adj._ Alone. - - +Aliments+, _n._ Elements. - - +All of a heh+, _adj._ Inclining to one side. - - +All out+, _adv._ Altogether, absolutely. - - +All ti nowt+, Gone to nothing, dwindled away. - - +Ally+, +Ally-taw+, _n._ A boy’s taw of white marble, distinct from - either a stony or glassy. - - +Along of+, _prep._ Owing to, in consequence of. - - +Amaist+, +Omaist+, _adv._ Almost. - - +Amang+, _prep._ Among. - - +Amang-hands+, Implies the doing of certain work coincidently with - other labour. - - +Amell+, _prep._ In the midst, between. - - +Ance+, _Vide_ +Yance+. - - +An’+, _conj._ And. - - +‘An+, _conj._ Than. - - +An’ all+, _conj._ and _adv_. As well as, besides, truly. - - +Ane+, _num. adj._ One, usually followed by ’ither,’ i.e. other. - Ex.—_If Ah’ll tak t’ ane, will thoo tak t’ ither? Vide_ +Yan+. - - +Anew+, _adj._ Enough in number. - - +Angry+, _adj._ Inflamed. - - +Anotherkins+, _adj._ Different altogether. - Ex.—_Sha sartinly raffled on tiv a gert len’th, bud sha nivver - tell’d ma ’at Willie hed offered ti gi’e ma summat—that’s - anotherkins, thoo knows._ - - +Anters+, _conj._ For fear, lest. - - +Any+, +Onny+, _adv._ At all, in the least. - Ex.—_Ah doan’t aim ’at he’ll help onny_, i.e. ‘I do not think that - he will help at all.’ _He teeak ho’d, bud he didn’t lift onny_, - i.e. ‘He took hold, but he did not lift in the least.’ - - +Apace+, +Apaace+, _adv._ With great speed. - Ex.—_He’s gitten tweea mair lads; he’ll git on apaace noo._ - - +Appron+, _n._ The fat covering the belly of ducks and geese. - - +Arf+, +Arfish+, _adj._ 1. Timid, fearful. - 2. Unwilling. - Ex.—1. _He wur a bit arfish when t’ dog boonced oot._ - 2. _Naay, Ah deean’t think he’ll cum, he seem’d a bit arfish when - Ah ax’d him._ - - +Argify+, _v._ To argue. - - +Arn+, _v._ To earn. - - +Arr+, _n._ A scar. - Ex.—_Ah’s afeear’d he’ll be arr’d sairly on his feeace, he gat sae - badly bo’nt._ - - +Arran web+, _n._ A cobweb. - - +Arridge+, _n._ The rough edge left after either sawing or filing; - the edge of a squared stone, of furniture, &c. - - +Arse-end+, _n._ The end of a stook which rests upon the ground. - - +Arsey-varsey+, Upside down, great confusion. - - +Ashads+, _prep._ Beside. - - +Asher+, _adj._ Ashen. - - +Ask+, +Esk+, _n._ The newt. - - +Aslew+, _adj._ Not perpendicular. - - +Ass+, _v._ _Vide_ +Ax+. - - +Asseer+, _v._ To assure, _adv._ Instead, in the place of. - - +Assel-tree+, _n._ Axle-tree. - - +Ass-hoal+, _n._ A hole with a grate over it, usually under the - kitchen fire, to hold the fine ash. - - +Assil-teeath+ or +-tewth+, _n._ A molar, a back tooth. - - +Ass-manner+, _n._ Manure obtained from the ash-midden. - - +Ass-midden+, _n._ The place in which ashes and other refuse is - thrown. - - +Asteead+, _adv._ Instead. - - +As tite+, +Ez tite+, _adv._ As soon, rather, readily. - Ex.—_Ah’d ez tite gan ez stop_, i.e. ‘I would as soon go as stay.’ - _Ah’d ez tite kiss t’ dowter ez t’ muther_, i.e. ‘I would rather - kiss the daughter than the mother.’ - - +‘At+, _rel. pron._ and _conj._ 1. Who. - 2. That. - 3. Which. - Ex.—1. _Him ’at tell’d tha, tell’d tha wrang_, i.e. ‘He who told - you, told you wrongly.’ - 2. _Ah caan’t saay ’at ivver Ah did_, i.e. ‘I cannot say that ever - I did.’ - - +At+, _prep._ 1. To. - 2. Also used in a verbal sense of to worry. - 3. To attack. - 4. To bother. - Ex.—1 and 3. _What’s he deean at tha ’at thoo s’u’d at him leyke - that?_ i.e. ‘What has he done to you that you should attack or - illuse him like that.’ - 2 and 4. _Ah s’all ’ev ti let her ’ev t’ pup, ska’s awlus at ma - aboot it._ - - +Atefter+ or +Atefther+, _adv._ Afterwards. - Ex.—_Whya, noo, Ah’ll see tha atefter aboot it. Aye, that’s what - he sed at fo’st, bud he tell’d a different taal atefter._ - - +Athout+, _prep._ and _conj._ Without, unless. - - +Atop o’+, _prep._ On the top of. - - +Atter+, _n._ Matter, mucus. - - +Atween+, _prep._ Between. - - +Au’d-feshioned+, _adj._ Precocious, antique. - - +Au’d-leyke+, _adj._ Aged. - - +Aught+, _n._ Anything. - - +Aund+, +Awned+, _pp._ Possessed. - - +Aw+, _adj._ All. - - +Aw+, _intj._ Oh. - - +Awaay+, _intj._ Go on, continue doing the same thing. - Ex.—_It maay scream awaay foor owt ’at Ah care_, i.e. ‘Scream on.’ - ‘Fight away, my lads.’ ‘Shout away, my boys.’ - - +Awaay-gannin’ crops+, _n._ The crops an outgoing tenant sows and - reaps on the farm he is leaving, in consideration of certain other - land which he has fallowed and manured. - - +Awanting+, _adj._ 1. Needed. - 2. Lacking sense. - Ex.—1. _T’ land’s vastly awanting a sup o’ rain._ - 2. _That bairn’s a bit awanting._ - - +Awe+, _Vide_ +Owe+. - - +Awhahl+, _conj._ Awhile. _Vide_ +Whahl+. - - +Awkward+, _Vide_ +Okkad+. - - +Awlus+, +Allus+, _adv._ Always. - - +Awm+, _n._ The elm. - - +Awn+, _v._ 1. To own. - 2. To admit. - Ex.—1. _Ah awn t’ dog_, i.e. ‘I own the dog.’ - 2. _Did ta awn tiv owt?_ i.e. ‘Did you admit anything?’ _Neea, Ah - awned ti nowt_, i.e. ‘No, I admitted nothing.’ _Ti awn ti_, is - ‘to confess.’ - - +Ax+, +Ax’d+, +Ass+, or +Ast+, _v._ To ask. - Ex.—_Ah ax’d him, bud he wadn’t ’a’e neea truck. Ah’s ast oot ti - tea ti morn at neet._ _Ah wadn’t ax him owt_, or _ass him_. - - +Ax’d at chetch or chŭch+ } Publishing the banns. - +Ax’d oot+ } - Ex.—_Tha’ll be ax’d at chetch o’ Sunday; he’s putten t’ spurrings - in._ - - +Aye+, +bairn+. Assent. - - +Aye+, +foor seear+. Aye, for sure. - - +Aye+, +marry+, _adv._ Certainly, yes. - Ex.—_Diz ta believe what sha’s sed aboot Hannah? Aye, marry, that - Ah deea—Hannah war sadly flowtered t’ other daay, when Ah plump’d - her wi’ ‘t._ - - - B. - - +Bab+, +Babby+, _n._ A baby. - - +Babbles an’ Saunters+, 1. Wearying repetitions. - 2. Unreliable information. - Ex.—1. _T’ sarmon war larl better ’an babbles an’ saunters._ - 2. _Tak neea notish ov owt ’at sha sez, all ’at sha knaws is babbles - an’ saunters._ - - +Back+, _v._ _Vide_ +Backen+. - - +Back-bearaway+, _n._ The common bat. - - +Back-burden+, _n._ A load carried on the back. - - +Backen+, _v._ 1. To retard. - 2. To hold in check. - Ex.—1. _T’ frost ’ll backen things a gay bit._ - 2. _Wa did all ’at ivver wa c’u’d, bud wa c’u’dn’t backen t’ - inflammation; ’t ’ed gitten past deeaing owt, afoor t’ doctor - cam._ - - +Back-end+, _n._ The time following harvest. - - +Backendish+, _adj._ Winterly. - Ex.—_It’s cau’d, an’ begins ti feel a larl bit backendish._ - - +Backerly+, _adj._ and _adv._ Late, backward. - - +Backly+, _adv._ Late, backward. - - +Backreck’nin’+, _n._ A misunderstanding. - Ex.—_Noo Ah’ve maad it plaan, ’evn’t Ah? foor Ah deean’t want - neea backreck’nin’ at efter._ - - +Back-talk+, _n._ Impudently answering again. - - +Back-side+, _n._ 1. The back of the house. - 2. That part which is opposed to the front of anything. - Ex.—1. _Put t’ barrer at t’ back-side._ - 2. _It’s at t’ back-side o’ t’ barn._ - - +Backstan+, _n._ A sheet of iron, sometimes a stone, having an iron - hoop to hang it over the fire by, used to bake cakes upon. - - +Back up, To get one’s+, To make angry. - - +Back-word+, _adv._ To countermand, to decline. - - +Bad+, _adj._ 1. Difficult. - 2. Unwell. - Ex.—1. _Ah finnd it varra bad ti deea._ - 2. _Ah feel ez bad ez ivver Ah can._ - - +Bad+, +Bod+, _pret._ of ’to bid.’ - Ex.—_Ah bad, an’ sha bod, an’ Tommy gat it._ - - +Badger+, _n._ A huckster. - - +Badger+, _v._ To beat down in a bargain. - Ex.—_Thoo mun ass him a lump mair ’an what thoo wants, foor he’s - a despert yan at badgering._ - - +Badly+, _adv._ 1. Sickly, ill. - 2. Very much. - Ex.—1. _Mah wo’d, bud Ah is badly._ - 2. _Ah’s badly i’ want ov a self-binnder. It badly wants leeaking - teea._ - - +Badness+, _n._ Wickedness. - Ex.—_He’s full o’ nowt bud badness._ - - +Bags Ah fuggy+, ‘I claim the first,’ whether it be innings or - first place in a game, &c. - - +Bahd+, _Vide_ +Bide+. - - +Bainest+, _adj._ The nearest. - Ex.—_It’s t’ bainest waay ti gan byv t’ pastur._ - - +Bairn+, +Barn+, +Baan+, _n._ A child. - - +Bairn-birth+, _n._ Lying-in. - - +Bairnish+, _adj._ Childish. - - +Bairn-lakings+, _n._ Playthings. - - +Bakin’+, _n._ The whole of the bread baked at one time. - - +Bakus+, +Bakehoos+, _n._ The bakehouse. - - +Balk+, +Bawk+, _n._ A beam, also a worthless corner of a field. - - +Ball+, _n._ The palm of the hand, or sole of the foot. - - +Bally-bleeazes+, _n._ A bonfire. - - +Bam+, _n._ and _v._ 1. A cheat, a joke, to cheat. - 2. To play a joke. - Ex.—1. _He bamm’d ivvery hand he played._ - 2. _He went all t’ waay ti Stowsla ti see her, an’ sha nivver - cam oot; it war nowt bud a bam o’ Jack’s._ - - +Band+, _n._ String, twisted straw used by the harvesters to bind - sheaves with. - - +Band-maker+, _n._ A maker of bands in the harvest-field. - - +Bang+, _v._ To thrash. - - +Bangs all+, _v._ Surpasses everything. - Ex.—_He bangs all, yon youth. That’s a capper; it bangs all, it - diz._ - - +Bank up+, _v._ To collect in masses, as clouds. - - +Banky+, _adj._ Hilly, applied to road or land. - - +Bar+, _adj._ Bare. - - +Barfan+, _n._ A horse-collar. - - +Bargh+, +Barugh+, +Barf+, _n._ A hill forming part of a low ridge, - as Lang Barugh, Great Ayton. - - +Bargollies+, _n._ Young birds before they are feathered. - - +Barguest+, _n._ An apparition, applied to ghosts in general. - - +Barken’d+, _v._ Encrusted. - - +Barley-bairn+, _n._ A child born shortly after marriage. - - +Barm+, _n._ Yeast. - - +Barren+, _n._ The external part of the sexual organ of a cow. - - +Barrow+, _n._ The flannel in which a newly-born child is wrapped. - - +Bass+, _n._ Any kind of matting made from reeds or grass. - - +Bat+, _n._ 1. A blow. - 2. A condition. - 3. A small amount of work. - Ex.—1. _Ah gav’ him sike a bat ower t’ lug._ - 2. _He’s awlus at that bat_, i.e. ‘game.’ - 3. _Ah’ve nut deean a bat sen yesterdaay._ - - +Bate+, _v._ To reduce in price. - Ex.—_Thoo’ll ’a’e ti bate summat afoor wa can barg’in._ - - +Bath+, _v._ To wash a child; to foment with hot water. - - +Batten+, _n._ Two sheaves of straw. - - +Batter+, _n._ An inclination inwards, a narrowing towards the - summit. A wall which is wider at the base than at the summit is - said to ‘batter.’ - Ex.—_Thoo’ll be leyke ti gi’e it a bit mair batter, foor if - t’ bank at t’ back gi’es waay, it’ll nivver bahd it thrussin’ - agaan ’t._ - - +Batter-fanged+, _adj._ Beaten and scratched by a woman. - Ex.—_He nobbut sed tweea wo’ds ti Ann, when sha batter-fang’d - him sairly._ - - +Battin+, _n._ A rafter of any length, 7 × 2½ in. thick. - - +Baufy+, _adj._ Strong. - - +Bavin+, _n._ A bundle of sticks. - - +Bawks+, _n._ The yoke. - - +Bazzak+, _v._ To strike with force. - - +Beck+, _n._ A small stream. - - +Bedfast+, _adj._ Confined to bed. - - +Bed-happings+, _n._ Bedclothes. - - +Bed-heead+, _n._ The pillow end. - - +Bedho’dden+, _adj._ _Vide_ +Bedfast+. - - +Bedoot+, +Beoot+, _prep._ 1. Without. - 2. Unless. - Ex.—1. _He’s gahin’ ti gan bedoot tha._ - 2. _Bedoot thoo cums an’ all, Ah saan’t gan, soa thoo knaws._ - - +Bedstock+, _n._ The wooden frame of a bed. - - +Bed-twilt+, _n._ Bed-quilt. - - +Beeaf+, _n._ The bough of a tree. _Vide_ also Bugh. - - +Beeak+, _v._ To bake. - - +Beeal+, _v._ 1. To roar as an animal. - 2. To cry out in pain. - 3. To shout loudly. - Ex.—1. _He beeal’d leyke a bull when tha catch’d him._ - 2. _Ah nivver heeard a lass beeal oot leyke what sha did when - t’ doctor cut her wicklow._ - 3. _When he calls o’ yan, he beeals ez if yan war deeaf; he - ommaist deavens yan._ - - +Beean+, _n._ A bone. - - +Beean’t+, Be not (am not). - - +Beearer+, _n._ Martingale. - - +Beeas+, +Beeos+, +Beeast+, _n._ An animal of the ox kind. - - +Beeaslings+, _n._ The first milk drawn from a cow after calving. - - +Beeldin’+, _n._ A building. - - +Bee-skep+, _n._ A straw hive. - - +Behappen+, _v._ To happen to, perhaps. - - +Behauf+, _n._ Behalf, sake. - - +Beho’dden+, _pp._ To be indebted to. - - +Belang+, _v._ To own, to belong to. - - +Belder+, _v._ To bellow as a bull, to cry out loudly. - - +Beleyke+, _adv._ Probably. - - +Belk+, _v._ To belch. - - +Bellacing+, _part._ A sound thrashing. - - +Belly-cheer+, _n._ Good cheer. - - +Belly-glut+, _n._ A greedy glutton. - - +Belly-timber+, _n._ Food. - - +Belly-wark+, _n._ A pain in the stomach. - - +Belt+, _pp._ of ‘Build.’ - - +Bensil+, _n._ A blow. - - +Bensiling+, _n._ A sound chastisement. - Ex.—_Ah’ll gi’e tha sike a bensiling if ivver thoo cums that - gam agaan._ - - +Benty+, _adj._ Wiry, blue-looking, applied to pasture herbage. - - +Berry-tree+, _n._ The gooseberry tree. - - +Bessy-babs+, _n._ One who behaves like a child. - - +Bessy-bainworts+, _n._ Daisies. - - +Bessy-ducker+ or -+douker+, _n._ The water-ousel. - - +Best leg first, To put one’s+ = To hurry. - Ex.—_If ya aim ti catch t’ traan ya’ll ’a’e ti put yer best leg - fo’st._ - - +Best+ and +Bested+. Used in a verbal sense—1. To get the better of. - 2. To overcome. - Ex.—1. _Ah bested him_, i.e. ‘I got the better of him.’ - 2. _Ah can seean best yon youth_, i.e. ‘I can soon vanquish that - fellow,’ - - +Bethink+, +Bethowt+, _v._ To recollect. - Ex.—_Ah caan’t bethink ma ov hauf o’ what sha sed. When Tom ga’ - ma a inklin’ Ah bethowt ma ov ivverything ’at ’ed ta’en - pleeace; aye, all ’at t’ ane ’ed sed ti t’ other, thoff afoor - that all t’ lot ’ed cleean slipped fra mah mahnd._ - - +Better+, _adj._ and _v._ 1. More. - 2. To gain by. - 3. Improved in health. - Ex.—1. _It’s better ’an a month sen._ - 2. _Ah s’ better mysel by changing pleeaces._ - 3. _Ah’s a lot better ti-daay._ - - +Bettering+, _n._ An improvement. - - +Bettermy+, _adj._ 1. Used to denote those in a higher position. - 2. Polished. - Ex.—1. _T’ bettermy fau’k ’ez their waays, an’ wa’ ‘ev oors; - bud when onny on ’em cums inti mah cottage, Ah awlus puts on - mah bettermy manners, an’ Ah can scrape mah tongue an’ knack - a bit wi t’ best on ’em._ - - +Beyont+, _prep._ Beyond. - - +Bickerin+’, _n._ A wordy conflict, quarrelling. - Ex.—_Tommy an’ Mary’s at it agaan; Ah nivver heeard sike - bickerin’ deed ez yon tweea ’ev, tha’re awlus at it._ - - +Bid+, _v._ To invite to a funeral. - - +Bidder+, _n._ The person deputed to bid guests to a funeral. - - +Bide+, +Bahd+, _v._ 1. To endure. - 2. To wait. - 3. To dwell. - Ex.—1. _Ah caan’t bahd yon chap._ - 2. _Ah’ll bahd here whahl ya cum._ - 3. _Wheear did ta bahd afoor thoo cam ti live here?_ - - +Big+, _adj._ Strong—of the wind. - Ex.—_It war a fairly big wind last neet._ - - +Bigg+, _n._ Barley having four rows of ears on one stalk. - - +Bike+, _n._ The nest of the wild bee. - - +Bile+, _n._ A boil. - - +Binch+, _n._ A bench to work upon. - - +Bink+, _n._ A long seat of either stone or wood. - - +Binnd+, _v._ To bind. - - +Binnder+, +Binndther+, _n._ The tier-up of sheaves. - - +Birk+, _n._ The birch-tree. - - +Birr+, _n._ Rapid motion accompanied with a sound like whirr-r-r. - Ex.—_T’ bo’ds gat up an’ went wi’ sike a birr, ’at Ah aim he war - ti freet’n’d ti shut at ’em._ - - +Bishel+, _n._ A bushel. - - +Bishopped+, _Vide_ Set on. - - +Biv+, +Byv+, _prep._ By. - - +Bizzum+, +Buzzum+, _n._ A broom. - - +Bizzum-heead+, _n._ A person who is equally foolish and stupid. - - +Bizzum-+ or +Buzzum-heeaded+, _adj._ Stupid and foolish. - - +Black-clocks+, _n._ Black beetles. - - +Blacking+, _n._ A severe scolding. - - +Bladdry+, +Blathery+[110], _adj._ Muddy, applied to soft splashy - mud. - - +Blaeberry+, _n._ The bilberry. - - +Blair+, _v._ To roar loudly, to shout loudly. - - +Blake+, _adj._ Of a light golden hue, pale. - Ex.—_Noo, that’s a bit o’ neyce blake butter. Thoo nobbut leeaks - blakeish._ - - +Blake+, _v._ Intoxicated. - Ex.—_Jim war fairly blake last neet._ - - +Blane+, _n._ A small boil. - - +Blash+, _v._ 1. To splash with water. - 2. _adj._ Nonsense, idle talk. - - +Blashment+, _n._ Melted snow or soft mud. - - +Blashy+, _adj._ Applied to wet weather. The roads are said to be - ‘blashy’ when the snow melts. - - +Blather+, _adj._ and _n._ Nonsense. - - +Bleb+, _n._ A blister, a small bubble. - - +Bleck+, _n._ The dirt and oil worked together on a machine. - - +Bleea+, _n._ The inner bark of a tree. - - +Blendcorn+, _n._ A mixture of wheat and rye. - - +Blendings+, _n._ A mixture of peas and beans. - - +Blether+, _n._ Noisy foolish talk. - - +Bletherheead+, _n._ One full of silly talk. - - +Blew milk+, _n._ Skim milk. - - +Blind-worm+, _n._ A non-venomous snake. - - +Blirt+, _v._ To tell anything suddenly. - Ex.—_Yan caan’t trust Sally wi’ nowt, sha blirts oot all sha - knows._ - - +Blish-blash+, _n._ Tittle-tattle. - - +Blo’+, _n._ Bloom. - - +Blob+, _v._ To bubble, as air rising in water. - Ex.—_He tumm’l’d blob inti t’ beck_ is quite a common form of - speech. The original meaning may have been that the falling - in caused many bubbles. - - +Bloss+, _v._ and _n._ 1. To make ugly, to disfigure. - 2. A dowdy. - Ex.—1. _Her feeace war bloss’d wi’ blebs an’ blanes._ - 2. _Sha is a bloss is yon lass._ - - +Blotch+, _n._ A blot, a spot. - - +Blubber+ or +Bluther+, _v._ To cry. - - +Blur+, _v._ To blot or smear. - - +Blurt+, _v._ To suddenly weep. - - +Blustery+, _adj._ Squally. - - +Blutherment+, _n._ Puddle, slush of any kind. - - +Bobblekins+, _n._ The water buttercup. - - +Bodden+, _v._ 1. To impose too heavy a task. - 2. To accuse, to charge with. - Ex.—1. _He’s bodd’n’d t’ lad wi’ mair an’ a day’s wark._ - 2. _Well, an’ thoo’d ’a’e slapt her a feeace an’ all if sha’d - bodd’n’d thee wi’ t’ seeam ez sha plump’d me wi’._ - - +Bodden+, _pp._ of ‘to bide.’ - - +Boddum+, _v._ To thoroughly investigate. - Ex.—_Ah’ll boddum ’t if it cost ma fahve pund._ - - +Boddums+, _n._ and _adj._ Lowest, lowest ground. - - +Boddy+, _n._ A person. - Ex.—_Sha’s a deeacent boddy, is ‘Liza._ - - +Boggart+ } _n._ A ghost. - +Boggle+ } - - +Boggle+, _v._ To jib, to frame badly; also a _n._ inaptitude. - Ex.—_He’ll mak nowt bud a boggle on ’t._ - - +Boiling+, _n._ The whole lot, whether of persons or things. - - +Bolden+, _v._ To encourage, to incite. - Ex.—_Yance ower Ah felt a larl bit fearsome, bud he bolden’d ma - ti deea ’t, seea Ah bunched him._ - - +Boll+, _n._ The trunk of a tree. - - +Bonny+, _adj._ 1. A large quantity or number. - 2. Strange. - 3. Good-looking. - Ex.—_Aye, ther’ wur a bonny lot on ’em, a vast mair ’an Ah’d - aim’d ti see._ - 2. _Ther’ll be bonny deed i’ Bedale a week cum Mundaay._ - 3. _It’s a bonny-leeaking meer._ - - +Bon’t!+ _intj._ Bother it (literally, burn it). - - +Bo’nt+, _pp._ Burnt. - Ex.—_Sha’s bo’nt her pinny wiv a cat’ren wheel._ - - +Booak+, +Bowk+, _v._ To retch, to vomit. - - +Book+, +Bouk+, _n._ Bulk. - - +Bool+, _v._ To trundle a hoop. - - +Booler+, _n._ A child’s hoop. - - +Bor+, _n._ The seed of the burdock. - - +Borril+, _n._ The gadfly. - - +Bost+, _v._ To burst or break in small pieces. - - +Botch+, _v._ To repair in an unworkmanlike manner. - - +Botchet+, _n._ Mead, made from honey. - - +Bottery+, +Bore-tree+, +Bur-tree+, _n._ The alder-tree. - - +Bottom+, _Vide_ +Boddums+. - - +Boult+ or +Bou’t upright+. Upright, erect. - - +Boun+, +Bun+, _adj._ Going, on the point of. - Ex.—_Ah’s bun ti deea’t t’ next job. Ah doot t’ au’d thing’s - boun ti dee. Ah war just boun ti pop ower, if thoo ’edn’t - dropt in._ - - +Bound+, +Bun+, _adj._ Compelled. - Ex.—_Ah’s ’a’e ti gan, in fact Ah’s bound ti gan._ - - +Bounder-marks+ or +-steeans+, _n._ Stones erected to mark - boundaries. - - +Bow-bridge+ or +-brigg+, _n._ A one-arched bridge, several of - which still exist. - - +Bowdykite+, _n._ An impudent child. - - +Boxin+, _adj._ Buxom. - - +Brack+, _pret._ of ‘to breke,’ ‘breck,’ or ‘breeak.’ - - +Bracken+, _n._ The common fern (_Pteris aquilina_). - - +Brade+, _v._ To spread abroad. - - +Brading aboot+, _part._ Gossiping. - - +Brae+, _n._ The overhanging portion of the bank of a river. - - +Braeful+, _adj._ Bankful. - - +Brag+, _v._ To boast. - - +Brahdal-bands+, _Vide_ +Bridal-bands+. - - +Brahd-wain+, _n._ A wagon laden with furniture, &c., taken - from the home of the bride. - - +Braid-band+, _n._ A sheaf of corn laid out to dry. - - +Bramlings+, _n._ The red worms used as bait for trout. - - +Bramm’l+, _n._ The bramble. - - +Brander+, _n._ An arrangement varying in design—often in the shape - of a tripod—fixed over the fire to support pans, &c. - - +Brander+, _v._ To cook over the fire. - - +Brandery+, _n._ A wood frame used in making wells. - - +Bran-new+, +Brander spander new+, _adj._ Quite new. - - +Brant+, _adj._ Steep. - Ex.—_Thoo’ll ’a’e ti put t’ skid on, its varra brant._ - - +Brash+, _n._ Useless refuse, a rising of acid into the mouth. - - +Brashy+, _adj._ Worthless. - - +Brass+, _n._ 1. Money. - 2. Impudence. - Ex.—1. _Brass nivver chinks sae sweetly ez when t’ soond cums - fra yan’s awn pocket._ - 2. _If he’d nobbut hauf ez mich brass iv his pocket ez he ’ez iv - his feeace, he nivver need deea a hand stroak._ - - +Brassend+, +Brazzend+, _adj._ Impudent. When applied to a female, - immoral. - - +Brat+, _n._ A child. - - +Brattice+, _n._ A wooden partition dividing two rooms. - - +Bratty+, _adj._ Applied to cream or milk when turning sour. - - +Brave+, _adj._ Good in quality as well as in appearance. - - +Bravely+, _adj._ and _adv._ Exceeding, exceedingly well. - - +Bray+, _v._ 1. To thrash, flog. - 2. To overcome. - Ex.—1. _Ah’ll bray tha when thoo cums in._ - 2. _Ah can bray yon chap wi’ yah han’ i’ mah pocket._ - - +Brazent+, +Brazened+. Impudent. _Vide_ +Brassend+. - - +Breaks+, +Brooks+, _n._ Boils. - - +Breeath, To take away one’s+ = To overcome. - Ex.—_It teeak mah breeath away when tha tell’d ma ’at he’d deean - foor hissen_, i.e. ‘It filled me with surprise when they told - me that he had _deean for hissen_,’ i.e. committed suicide. - - +Brede+, _n._ Breadth. - - +Bree+, +Breece+, _n._ The gadfly. - - +Breer+ } - +Breear+ } _n._ The briar, the dog-rose. - - +Breeacus+, +Breckus+, _n._ Breakfast. - - +Breead leeaf+ or +loaaf+, _n._ A bread loaf. - - +Breead meal+, _n._ Flour from which brown bread is made. - - +Breead-ratched+, _adj._ Broad-striped. - - +Breeak+, +Breek+, +Brek+, _v._ To break. - - +Breeak one’s day, To+ = To fail to keep an appointment; to spoil - a day’s employment by having to attend to some trivial duty. - - +Breeam+, _n._ The broom (_Genista scoparia_). - - +Breed+, _n._ A brood, a litter. - - +Breekin’+, _n._ That part of a tree where the stem breaks into - branches. - - +Breekless+, _adj._ Without breeches. - - +Breeks+, _n._ Breeches. - - +Breke+ or +Breear+, _v._ To break. - - +Bridal-band+, _n._ The name given to the bride’s garter - (_obsolete_). - - +Bride-ale+, _n._ Another form of hotpot. _Vide_ chapter on - ‘Customs.’ - - +Bride-wain+, _n._ _Vide_ +Brahd-wain+. - - +Brief+, _n._ A begging letter. - - +Brigg+, _n._ A bridge; a natural bed of rocks standing - considerably out of the water and projecting into the sea. - - +Briggsteean+, _n._ Flags or stones covering a culvert in front of - a gateway, or in other places, so as to serve the purpose of a - bridge in miniature. - - +Brim+, _v._ Applied to a sow when inclined to the boar. - - +Brissling+, _adj._ A slight gale of wind. - - +Brock+, _n._ The badger; the frog-hopper or cuckoo-spit - (_Aphrophora spumaria_). - - +Brog+, _v._ To feed on the young hedge-shoots. - - +Brokken-bodied+, _adj._ Suffering from hernia. - - +Brole+, +Browl+, +Brul+, _n._ An impudent, saucy girl. - - +Bru+, _n._ The brow, forehead. - - +Bruff+, +Bluff+, _adj._ Fresh-complexioned, rough in speech, - brusque. - - +Brully+, _n._ A squabble amongst neighbours, a broil, a storm at - sea of short duration. - - +Brully+ } - +Brullier+ } _n._ A stealer of marbles. - - +Brully+, _v._ To steal marbles (taws) from the ring whilst a game - is in progress, by some bully having no part in the game. - - +Brumm’l-neeased+, +-nooazed+, +-noased+ } _adj._ Rubicund. - +Brumm’l-snouted+ } - - +Brumm’ls+, _Vide_ +Bramm’l+. - - +Brunt+, _Vide_ +Brant+. - - +Brussel+, +Brissel+, _v._ To hector, swagger, show off. - Ex.—_He went bruss’ling aboot ez if t’ field war hisen, bud when - Jack’s lad offered him oot ti feight, he ’edn’t a wo’d ti saay - foor hissel._ - - +Brussen+, _pp._ of Burst. - - +Brussen-hearted+, _adj._ Broken-hearted. - - +Brussen oot+, _adj._ Covered with blotches or sores. - - +Brussen+ or +Brusten up+, _adj._ Burst, broken into small pieces. - - +Buckheeads+, _n._ The living stump of a thorn hedge left to grow - after slashing. - - +Budge+, _v._ To move, to give way in a bargain. - Ex.—_Ah weean’t budge an inch foor neeabody. Ah weean’t budge a - farden._ - - +Buer+, _n._ The gnat. - - +Buff+, _n._ The blow given as a challenge to fight. - - +Bugh+, +Bew+, _n._ A bough. - - +Bull+, _v._ To serve a cow. - - +Bullace+, _n._ Wild plum, of a green colour when ripe. - - +Bull-feeaces+, +Bull-fronts+, _n._ The hair-grass (_Aira - caespitosa_). - - +Bull-heead+, _n._ A small flat-headed fish found under stones, - the miller’s thumb. - - +Bullock+, _v._ To bully, to be overbearing. - Ex.—_If thoo aims ’at thoo can cum a bullocking o’ ma, thoo’s - wrang, sae thoo’d better off wi’ thisel._ - - +Bulls+, _n._ Bulrushes, also the cross-beams of a harrow which - carry the tines. - - +Bulls and segs+, _n._ The name often given to the stalk and - seed-head of the bulrush, the leaves being called ‘segs’; hence - ‘bulls and segs.’ - - +Bull-seg+, A bull castrated in its prime. - - +Bull-spink+, _n._ The chaffinch. - - +Bull-stang+, +Bull-teng+, _n._ Dragon-fly. - - +Bull-steean+, _n._ A stone used for sharpening tools. - - +Bullyrag+, _v._ To be exceedingly overbearing. - - +Bum-bailiff+, _n._ A bailiff. - - +Bumm’l-barfan+, _n._ A horse-collar made of reeds. - - +Bumm’l-bee+, _n._ The humble-bee. - - +Bumm’l-kites+, _n._ The fruit of the bramble. - - +Bumper+ } _Vide_ { +Thumper+. - +Bumping+ } { +Thumping+. - - +Bumping+, _n._ An initiating ceremony at some schools of bumping - a new boy on a stoop or otherwise. - - +Bunch+, _v._ To kick with the foot, or violently bump with the - knee. N.B.—‘To bunch’ is ‘to kick,’ ‘to punch’ is ‘to hit.’ - - +Burden+, +Bod’n+, _n._ Anything one has to bear, whether mentally - or physically. - - +Burden-band+, _n._ A hempen band used to bind hay, to be carried on - the back. - - +Burdened+, _adj._ Insane. - - +Burn+, _n._ A brook. - - +Burr+, _n._ Anything used to prop a wheel from running backwards - downhill. A burr proper is a round cylinder of wood with a loose - iron pin through it; this is so fixed that it runs on the ground - behind the wheel, and automatically prevents the wheel running back. - - +Burr-thistle+, _n._ The spear-headed thistle. - - +Busk+, _n._ A small bush. - - +Bustard+, _n._ A witch bereft of power to work ill (_obsolete_). - _Vide_ chapter on ‘Witchcraft.’ - - +Butch+, _v._ To kill as a butcher. - - +Butt+, _n._ The halibut. - - +Butter-fingered+, _adj._ Applied to one who lets things - drop. - - +Butter-mouthed+, _adj._ Flattery. - - +Butter-scotch+, _n._ A superior kind of toffee. - - +Buzzard+, _n._ A large moth. - - +Buzznacking+, _part._ Gossiping. - - +By mich+, _adj._ By a good deal. - - +By noo+, _adj._ By now, by this time. - Ex.—_Thoo owt ti ’a’e lap’t t’ job up by noo._ - - +Byre+, _n._ A cow-house. - - - C. - - +Caan’t+, pronounced ‘carnt,’ _v._ Cannot, must not. - Ex.—_You caan’t do that_, i.e. ‘You must not do that.’ - - +Cabbish+, _n._ Cabbage. - - +Cade+, _n._ A sheep-tick. _Vide_ +Kead+. - - +Cadge+, _v._ To beg. - - +Cadger+, _n._ A carrier, a beggar. - - +Caff+, _n._ Chaff. - - +Caffed+, _adj._ Cowed, dispirited. - - +Caff-hearted+, _adj._ Nervous, cowardly, unprincipled. - - +Caffy+, _adj._ Worthless. - - +Caggy+, _adj._ Touchy, disposed to quarrel. - - +Cagmag+, _adj._ and _n._ Worthless. - - +Caingy+, _adj._ Fretful, peevish. - - +Cake+, _v._ To cackle. - - +Caling+, _v._ To gossip. - - +Call+, _n._ Occasion, necessity, reason. - Ex.—_Ah’s nut gahin’, Ah’ve neea call ti gan_, i.e. ‘I am not - going, I have no occasion to go. _Ther wur neea call for tha - ti deea that._ - - +Call+, _v._ 1. To scold. - 2. To quarrel. - 3. To call to or for. - Ex.—1. _Sha’s nobbut calling o’ ma ti call ma_, i.e. ‘She is only - shouting for me to (give) me a scolding.’ - 2. _Tha’re calling yan anuther leyke all that_, i.e. ‘They are - quarrelling with one another like anything.’ - 3. _Ah’ll call on him ti cum_, i.e. ‘I will shout for him to - come.’ - - +Callet+, _n._ A scold, a railing woman. - - +Callet+, _v._ To scold. - - +Callety+, _adj._ Scolding, nagging. - - +Call of+, +Call on+, _v._ To cry to. - - +Calven-coo+, _n._ A cow recently calved. - - +Cam+, +Camside+, _n._ A raised earthen bank, the sloping bank from - a hedge bottom. - - +Cambril+, +Caumbril+, +Caum’ril+, _n._ The notched wooden bar - which is thrust through the tendons of the hind legs of a - slaughtered beast to suspend it by. - - +Can+, _v._ May. ‘Can’ is commonly used for ‘may.’ - Ex. Q. _Can I smoke here?_ Ans. _No, you caan’t_, i.e. ‘No, you - may not.’ - - +Canker+, _v._ To rust. - - +Cankery+, _adj._ Cross, rotten. - - +Cannily+, _adv._ Wisely, with subtility, nicely. - - +Canny+, _adj._ Pleasing, judicious, skilful, considerable as to - number. - Ex.—_Sha’s a canny lass_, i.e. ‘pleasing.’ _Thoo fraam’d varra - cannily wiv him_, i.e. ‘You set to work very judiciously with - him.’ _He did it varra cannily_, i.e. ‘He did it very - skilfully.’ _Whya, ther wur a cannyish few on ’em_, i.e. ‘Why, - there were a considerable number.’ - - +Cant+, _v._ To raise one end. - - +Canty+, _adj._ Full of spirits, lively. - - +Cap+, _v._ To fix a piece of leather over the toe of a boot; to - surprise, bewilder, excel. - Ex.—_Ah nivver war sae capped i’ mah leyfe_, i.e. ‘I never was - so surprised in my life.’ _Ah caan’t tell hoo he mannish’d ti - deea ’t, he capped me_, i.e. ‘I cannot say how he managed to - do it, he bewildered me.’ _Yon caps ’em all_, i.e. ‘That one - over there excels them all.’ - - +Capper+, _n._ Something which surpasses all others. - - +Caps all+ = Exceeds in everything. - - +Capster+, _n._ A piece of wood roughly shaped like the bridge of a - bagatelle board, each arch being numbered, the boy winning by - that number placed over the arch he shoots through; should he not - succeed in passing through any arch, he loses his taw. - - +Card up+, _v._ To sweep and tidy up the fireside. - - +Cark+, _v._ To be careful, anxious. - - +Carlings+, _n._ Peas cooked in butter, prepared for Carling Sunday. - - +Carneyed+, _pp._ Flattered, coaxed. - - +Carp+, _v._ To doubt without reason. - - +Carr+, _n._ Low-lying boggy land. - - +Carryings on+, _n._ Lively, disorderly proceedings. - - +Cassen+, _Vide_ +Kessen+. - - +Cast down, To be+, _v._ To be downhearted, dispirited. - - +Cast+, +Kest+, _adj._ Not straight, warped. - - +Cast+, +Kest+, _v._ To cease wearing. - Ex.—_Ah kest yan o’ my petticoats, and Ah’ve catch’d my deeath - o’ cau’d._ - - +Cast, To be+, _v._ To be bent, warped. - - +Cast up+, _v._ 1. To twit a person with some past failing. - 2. To happen unexpectedly. - 3. To come to light. - Ex.—1. _Ah think ’at Ah wadn’t kest that up at him._ - 2. _Well, it caps yan when a thing leyke that kests up._ - 3. _Ah thowt ’at Ah’d lost it, but it kest up i’ yan o’ ma au’d - coats._ - - +Catch it+, _v._ To be reprimanded, punished. - Ex.—_Thoo’ll catch it when thi mudher sees tha._ I heard a woman - say to her daughter, when giving the child a jug of milk to take - to a neighbour’s, _If thoo lets it drop, thoo’ll catch it_. - - +Cat-collop+, _n._ Cat’s-meat. - - +Cat-gallows+, _n._ Two upright forked sticks upon which a - cross-bar rests as an obstacle for boys to jump over. - - +Cat-haws+, _n._ The fruit of the hawthorn. - - +Cat-jugs+, _Vide_ +Dog-choops+. - - +Cats and eyes+, _n._ Seeds of the ash-tree. - - +Cat-trail+, _n._ The root of valerian. - - +Cau’d+, _adj._ and _n._ Cold. - - +Cauf+, +Cauff+, _n._ A calf. - - +Cauf-heead+, _n._ A stupid fellow. - - +Cauf-lick+, _n._ A tuft of hair on the forehead which cannot be - parted or made to lie flat. - - +Cauf-riddling+, _Vide_ chapter on ‘Superstition.’ - - +Caul+, _n._ _Vide_ +Keld+. - - +Causer+, +Caus’ay+, _n._ A causeway, a paved footpath. - - +Cess+, _n._ A rate for parish relief; - the amount paid to the poor by the overseer. - - +Cess+, _n._ 1. Extra effort. - 2. Punishment. - Ex.—1. _Gi’e ’t cess, an’ thoo’ll seean ’a’e ’t deean_, i.e. - ‘Give it an extra effort, and you will soon have it done. - 2. _Ah’ll gi’e tha cess when Ah git ho’d on tha._ - - +Cess getherer+, _n._ Rate collector. - - +Chaff+, _v._ To tease by using playful but provoking language. - - +Chaff+, +Chafts+, _n._ The jaw, generally that of a pig. - - +Chaffer+, _v._ 1. To banter or beat down in a bargain. - 2. An interchange of provoking remarks. - Ex.—1. _He chaffered that mich, whahl Ah ax’d him if he wanted - t’ meer foor nowt?_ - 2. _Dolly’s chaffering wi’ Sally agaan._ - - +Chaff-fallen+, _adj._ Dejected. - - +Challenge+, _v._ To recognize. - Ex.—_Ah c’u’d challenge oor bitch among all t’ dogs i’ t’ show. - Sha’s good ti challenge onnywheer._ - - +Chamber+, +Chamer+, _n._ A room above the ground-floor. - - +Champ+, +Champion+, _adj._ Excellent, very well. - - +Chance bairn+, _n._ An illegitimate child. - - +Chander+, _n._ A chaldron. - - +Change+, _v._ To turn sour. - - +Channely+, _adv._ Grandly. - - +Chanter+, _n._ A chorister. - - +Chare+, _adv._ Careful, doubtful. - - +Chass+, _n._ Haste. _v._ To follow quickly. - - +Chatt+, _n._ A fir cone. - - +Chatter+, _v._ To make an uneven surface; - to shake, as machinery running unevenly. - - +Chaudy-bag+, _n._ The stomach of an animal. - - +Chaudy-guts+, _n._ A greedy, gluttonous fellow. - - +Chavel+, _v._ To chew as one without teeth, to gnaw. - - +Cheean+, _n._ A chain. - - +Cheeany+, The common pronunciation of ‘chinaware.’ - - +Cheeat’ll chow+, _Lit._ ‘Cheating will show itself.’ - Ex.—In a dispute boys will say, _Let him ’ev anuther goa, - cheeat’ll chow_. - - +Cheek by chowl or jowl+ = Close together. - Ex.—_Theer tha gan, cheek by chowl_; - _Ah doot tha’re up ti neea good._ - - +Cheep+, _n._ The cry of a young bird, generally a chicken, - partridge, or grouse. - - +Cheeper+, _n._ A young partridge or grouse. - - +Chesfat+, _n._ A press used for extracting the whey from the - curds. - - +Chetch+, +Chŭch+, _n._ A church. - - +Chetch+ or +Chuch priest+, _n._ A Church of England clergyman. - - +Chevin+, _n._ The chub. - - +Childer+, _n._ Children. - - +Chimbler+, +Chim’ly+, _n._ A chimney. - - +Chip+, _v._ To chip anything; to crack an egg when boiled, or - when hatching commences. - - +Chip up+, _v._ To trip up by holding the foot out in front of - any one running past. - - +Chisel+, +Chizzel+, _n._ Bran, husks of grain. - - +Chissel+, _v._ To cheat, to impose upon. - - +Chist+, _n._ The chest, a chest of drawers. - - +Chitterlings+, _n._ The small entrails of a pig. - - +Chitty+, _adj._ Childish. - - +Chock-full+, _adv._ Full to overflowing. - Ex.—_Thoo caan’t git neea mair in, it’s chock-full noo._ - - +Cholter-headed+, _adj._ Thick-headed. - - +Chop+, _v._ To trade by exchanging. - - +Chops+, _n._ The jaws. _Vide_ +Chaff+. - - +Chow+, _v._ To chew. - - +Chucky+, _n._ A hen, a term of endearment applied to a child. - - +Chuff+, _adj._ Healthy-looking, pert, determined. - - +Chunter+, _v._ To mutter in a complaining tone. - - +Churlish+, +Chollus+, _adj._ Bad-tempered. - - +Churr+, _v._ The murmuring sound made by birds when roosting. - - +Clack+, _n._ Lit. the tongue, scolding, advice. - - +Clack+, _v._ To admonish, to talk much. - - +Clag+, _v._ To stick to or on. - - +Claggum+, _n._ Any sticky mass, applied generally to sweets. - - +Claggy+, _adj._ Sticky. - - +Clam+, _v._ 1. To climb. - 2. To squeeze, to nip as a vice. - 3. To adhere to, stick to, owing to moisture. - Ex.—1. _Ah clam up t’ tree an’ gat t’ nist an’ t’ eggs an’ - all._ - 2. _Ah gat mysen clamm’d atween t’ wall an’ t’ wagon._ - - +Clam+, +Clem+, _v._ To faint for want of food. - Ex.—_Ah’s fair clamm’d foor a bit o’ summat ti eat._ - - +Clam+, _n._ Damp, sticky moisture. - - +Clame+, _v._ To smear with anything sticky. - Ex.—_Tha saay what it’s t’ chaange o’ watter what’s deean ’t. - That maay be; onny road sha’s a perfect picter noo, covered wi’ - watter-blebs an’ larl reead spots ivvery bit ower her; an’ t’ - doctor’s clamed her all ower wi’ sum soart o’ clarty, bladdry, - muckment stuff, whahl sha kittles that bad ’at sha dizn’t knaw - wheear ti put hersel._ - - +Clammy+, _adj._ Parched with thirst, sticky, moist, adhesive. - - +Clamoursome+, _adj._ Noisy. - - +Clamper+, _v._ To make a loud noise with the feet when walking or - running. - - +Clampers+, _n._ Feet or claws of any metal object, also the - fingers and claws of things animate. - - +Clap+, _v._ 1. To pat a dog. - 2. To sit down, or set anything down. - Ex.—2. _Clap yersel i’ that cheer._ _Clap it doon onnywheear._ - - +Clap back+, _v._ To encore. - - +Clapt een on+, _v._ To see. Really _part._, saw. - - +Clart+, _v._ To smear, to flatter. - Ex.—_Ah’ve gitten mysen clarted all ower wi’ t’ bladdry - blashment. Noo, then, deeant cum clarting ma up leyke that; - gan thi waays an’ clart Mary ower. Whya, he clarted her up - whahl he’s fair to’n’d her heead._ - - +Clarty+, _adj._ 1. Sticky. - 2. Untrustworthy. - Ex.—2. _Deean’t len’ him owt, his nobbut a clarty customer._ - - +Clash+, _v._ To hurry work, to close a door with force, to bring - together suddenly. - - +Clat+, _Vide_ +Clack+. - - +Clatter+, _n._ A blow, a noise. - Ex.—_Ah’ll gi’e tha a good clatter if thoo clatters on leyke - that._ - - +Clavver+, _n._ A rowdy rabble. - - +Clavver+, _v._ To clamber like a child. - - +Clawt+, _v._ To attack with the nails. - - +Clear up+, _v._ To become fine after rain. - - +Cled+, _adj._ Clothed. - - +Cleean+, _v._ To tidy oneself. - - +Cleean+, _adj._ and _adv._ 1. Right. - 2. Quite. - 3. Well, adroitly, completely. - Ex.—1. _He flang t’ steean cleean thruff t’ winner_, i.e. ‘He - threw the stone right through the window.’ - 2. _Ah cleean foorgat all aboot it_, i.e. ‘I quite forgot all - about it.’ - 3. _Ah’ve nivver seed a chap sae cleean deean iv all my leyfe_, - i.e. ‘I never saw a fellow so completely taken in.’ - - +Cleean up+, _v._ To tidy the house. - - +Cleeas+} _n._ clothes - +Clais+ } - - +Cleease+, _adj._ Near, close, greedy. - - +Cleease-fisted+, _adj._ Greedy. - - +Cleeat+, _n._ A piece of iron or wood used to add strength. - - +Cleg+, _n._ The horse-fly, a begging friend. - - +Clem+, _Vide_ +Clam+. - - +Cletch+, _n._ A brood of young birds. - - +Cleugh+, _n._ The race of a mill, terminating often at one end by - cleugh-gates or gate, or door, which winds up and down by means - of a wheel and ratchet, admitting more or less water according to - the height it is lifted. - - +Clever+, _adj._ Well done or made. - - +Clever-headed+, _adj._ Wise beyond his fellows. - - +Click+, _v._ To snatch, to snatch quickly. - - +Click-hooks+, _n._ Three or four hooks joined together and - attached to a rope, used to drag ponds or a river with in search - of a body, &c. - - +Clim+, _v._ To climb. - - +Clinch+, _v._ To grasp tightly with the hand. - - +Clink+, _n._ A stinging blow. - - +Clinker+, _n._ A heavy blow. - - +Clinking+, _adj._ Very good, first-class. - - +Clip+, _v._ To shear sheep. - - +Clipping tahm+, _n._ Shearing time. - - +Cloam+, +Clooam+, +Claum+, _v._ To grasp with both hands at the - same time, to pull about not only roughly but rudely. - - +Clock+, _n._ Black clocks, black beetles. - - +Clock-seves+, +Bulrush+. The names not only vary in different - localities, but are given first to one and then another of the - water-side flags, rushes, and seves or seaves. _Vide_ +Bulls and - segs+. - - +Clog+, _n._ A log of wood. - - +Clogged+, _adj._ Asthmatical (of people), stopped by bleck (q.v.) - or other filth (of machinery). - - +Clooase+, _Vide_ +Cleease+. - - +Clooased+, _part._ Closed up, as in a cold in the chest. - - +Clooase-neifed+, _adj._ Niggardly, greedy. - - +Closing+, _n._ A difficulty in breathing. - - +Clot+, _n._ A clod of earth, a portion of blood when set. - - +Clot bur+, _n._ The burdock. - - +Cloth, To draw the+ = To remove the white tablecloth on the meal - being concluded. - - +Clotter+, _v._ To make thick or lumpy. - - +Clout+, _n._ An old piece of cloth, a patch. - - +Clout+, _n._ A blow. - - +Clout+, _v._ To strike at. - - +Clow-clags+, _n._ Dried dung adhering to the hind parts of animals; - in the case of sheep they are termed ‘doddings.’ - - +Clow-clash+, _n._ Things all in confusion. - - +Cloy+, _v._ To eat until sick at the sight of the same dish. - - +Clubster+, _n._ The stoat. - - +Cludder+, +Cluther+, _v._ To huddle together. - - +Clue+, _n._ A ball of cotton or string. - - +Clum+, _adj._ Sodden, heavy; generally applied to clayey land. - - +Clunter+, _v._ To go heavily on the feet. - - +Cob+, _n._ A small-sized horse, a small bread bun. - - +Cobble+, +Cobble-steean+, _n._ A small paving-stone. - - +Cobble+, _v._ To pelt with stones, to mend anything roughly to - serve for the time being. - - +Cobble-tree+, _n._ The wooden bar which connects the swingle-trees - with the beam of the plough. - - +Cobby+, _adj._ Lively, brisk, stout, decent. - - +Cōble+, _n._ A fishing-boat. - - +Cocker+, _v._ To fondle, to indulge. - Ex.—_Thoo’ll spoil t’ bairn if thoo cockers it i’ that road._ - - +Cocker+, _n._ Conceit. - - +Cockerate+, _v._ To boast. - - +Cookeration+ } - +Cockle-spell+ } _n._ Uncertainty. - - +Cockertraps+, _n._ Traps to catch cockroaches. - - +Cockle+, _v._ To be unsteady, to curl when drying. - - +Cockle boat+, _n._ A small pleasure boat. - - +Cock-leet+, _n._ The dawn of day. - - +Cockly+, _adj._ Unsteady, insecure, likely to fall over. - - +Cock o’ t’ middin+, _n._ The one who claims supremacy. - - +Cock-shot+, _n._ The boy who chances being caught in a certain - game. - - +Cockshut+, _n._ Twilight. - - +Cock-sure+, _v._ To be quite certain. - - +Cocky+, _adj._ Self-assertive, domineering. - - +Cod+, _n._ The cod or pod of peas, beans, &c. - - +Cod+, _v._ To impose upon, to stuff with nonsense. - - +Coddle+, +Couther+, _v._ To indulge oneself, to use unnecessary - wraps. - - +Collar+, _n._ A horse-collar. - - +Collar+, _v._ To lay hold of. - - +Collier+, _n._ The swift. - - +Collop+, _n._ A slice of bacon. - - +Collop Monday+, _n._ Monday before Shrove Tuesday. - - +Colly+, _adj._ Curly. - - +Come[111] again+, _v._ To appear after death. - - +Come by+, _v._ To stand aside. - - +Come by chance+, _Vide_ +Chance bairn+. - - +Come fra+, _v._ To come from. - - +Come on+, _v._ To improve, to grow. - Ex.—_Thi cabbishes is cummin’ on champ._ - - +Come round+, _v._ 1. To recover from fainting. - 2. To reconsider. - 3. To agree with. - Ex.—1. _Slap her han’s, an’ sha’ll seean cum roond._ - 2. _Tak neea notish o’ what he sez, i’ t’ end he’ll cum roond - an’ foorgi’e ya baith._ - 3. _Whya, Ah’ve cum roond ti thi way o’ thinking._ - - +Come to+, +Cum teea+, _v._ To regain consciousness. - Ex.—_When Ah cam teea, Ah didn’t ken wheear Ah war._ - - +Come-to+, _n._ Place of abode. - Ex.—_Maist fooak ’ev a cum-teea o’ sum soart._ - - +Commin’s+, _n._ Barley-sprouts formed during fermentation. - - +Comp’ny+, _n._ Several people gathered together with one object. - Ex.—_Ther war a fairish comp’ny geddered up ti lissen ti t’ new - parson._ - - +Con+, _v._ To scan, to observe critically. - Ex.—_Efter Ah’d conn’d it ower, Ah thowt varra larl aboot it._ - - +Conceit+, +Consate+, _n._ Imagined. - Ex.—_He consated hissen ’at he knaw’d a lot, bud it wur all - blather when he wur oppen’d oot._ - - +Conger+, _v._ Conquer. - - +Conny+, _adj._ Neat, nice; when applied to things, ‘little.’ - - +Conquerors+, _n._ Horse-chestnuts when dried, or even freshly - gathered, are so called when used by boys to play the game of - conquerors with. The game consists of threading a chestnut on a - string and striking it against a similar one held by an - opponent—the one breaking the other, conquers. - - +Consarn+, _n._ Business, the object or matter seen or discussed. - Ex.—_It’s a gert consarn yon_, i.e. ‘A big affair or undertaking.’ - _Ah’ve nowt ti deea wi’ ‘t, it’s neea consarn o’ mahn_, ‘No - business of mine.’ - - +Consumpted+, _part._ Suffering from phthisis or consumption. - - +Continny+, _v._ Continue. - - +Cook thi goose+ = To completely vanquish. - - +Cool+, _Vide_ +Coul+. - - +Coom+, _n._ Dust. +Sawcoom+, sawdust. - - +Coo-tie+, _n._ A band, usually made of hair, used to secure the - hind legs of a cow. - - +Cop+, _v._ 1. To be caught. - 2. To be punished. - Ex.—1. _He’ll cop uz if wa deean’t leeak sharp._ - 2. _Thoo’ll cop it when thoo gans yam._ - - +Corker+, _adj._ Large of its kind. _n._ A lie. - Ex.—_Ah saay, bud that’s a corker._ - - +Corn-creeak+, _n._ Field-crake. - - +Corr’n-berries+, _n._ The red or white currant. - - +Cossen+, _v._ 1. To cost. - 2. To inconvenience. - Ex.—2. _It wadn’t ’a’e cossen him mich_, i.e. ‘It would not have - inconvenienced him much.’ - - +Cot+, _n._ One who manages his domestic affairs without any female - help, an effeminate fellow. - - +Cott+, _n._ A tangled mass of wool or hair. - - +Cotten+, _v._ 1. To have a liking for. - 2. To discover. - Ex.—1. _Ah cotten’d tiv him fra t’ fust._ - 2. _He cottened ti what sha wur efter afoor sha’d ommaist gitten - started._ - - +Cotter+, _v._ To work hair or wool into knots. _Vide_ +Felter+. - - +Cottered+, _pp._ Entangled, knotted. - - +Coul+, +Cool+, _n._ A weal or swelling caused by a blow. - - +Counting+, _n._ Arithmetic. - - +Coup+, _v._ To exchange in barter, to empty a cart by tilting. - - +Coup ower+, _v._ To fall over. - - +Couther+, _Vide_ +Coddle+. - - +Cout+, _n._ A colt. - - +Cow-+ or +Coo-byre+, _n._ A cow-house. - - +Cow-+ or +Coo-clags+, _n._ Dung adhering to the buttocks of cattle. - - +Cow-+ or +Coo-footed+, _adj._ Awkward in gait. - - +Cow-+ or +Coo-gate+, +Coo-yat+, +Cow pastur+, _n._ Cow pasture. - - +Cow-+ or +Coo-grip+, _n._ The channel to carry off the urine. - - +Cow-+ or +Coo-leech+, _n._ A cow-doctor. - - +Cowdy+, _adj._ Lively, pert, active. - - +Cower+, _v._ To crouch in fear. - - +Cowl+, _v._ To scrape together towards one. - - +Cowler+, _n._ A scraper. - - +Cowl-rake+, _n._ A small scraper used to rake ashes together. - - + ‘Coz+, _Vide_ +Acoz+. - - +Crab+, _v._ To vex. - - +Crabbed+, _adj._ Peevish, in a bad temper. - - +Crack+, _n._ A loud noise like thunder. - - +Crack+, _v._ 1. To boast. - 2. To praise. - Ex.—1. _He crack’d a deeal aboot it._ - 2. _Ah crack’d it up fur tha. He cracks a seet ti mich ov his - awn deeds._ - - +Crack+, _n._ and _v._ A chat, to chat. _Vide_ +Rap+. - - +Crack+, _n._ A short space of time, immediately. - Ex.—_Ah s’all be deean iv a crack._ - - +Crack’d+ and +Cracky+, _adj._ Not quite _compos mentis_. - - +Crafty+, _adj._ Skilful, original. - - +Crake+, +Creeak+, +Cruke+, _n._ A carrion crow. - - +Crake+, _Vide_ +Corn-creeak+. - - +Crake+, _v._ To speak hoarsely. - - +Cramm’l+, _v._ To walk haltingly, tottery. - - +Cramm’ls+, _n._ The gnarled and twisted boughs of trees. - - +Cramped+, _part._ Perplexed. - - +Cramper+, _n._ Any matter difficult of settlement or solution. - Ex.—_Noo, that’s a cramper fur tha._ - - +Cramp-ring+, _n._ A charm-ring made from coffin tire, and worn as - a preventive against cramp, &c. - - +Cramps+, _n._ The term given to the playing of either the octave - or the scales. - - +Cranch+, _v._ To grind the teeth together when eating. - - +Cranky+, _adj._ Idiotic, able to move with difficulty through - stiffness, likely to overbalance, insecure. - - +Cranky+, _n._ A checked material, usually of blue and white checks, - used for aprons. Often called ‘Kinky-cranky.’ - - +Craps+ or +Crappin’s+, _n._ The pieces left after rendering fat - into lard. - - +Crashes+, +Creeases+, _n._ Watercress. - - +Craw+, _v._ To crow. _n._ A crow. - - +Crazed+, _pp._ In a violent passion. - - +Creckits+, _n._ The game of cricket. - - +Cree+, _v._ To soak grain in water. - - +Creeak+, _Vide_ +Crook+ and +Cruke+. - - +Creel+, _n._ The wooden frame pigs are laid upon after - slaughtering. - - +Creepin’s+, _n._ A shivering sensation usually foretelling a cold. - - +Cricket+, _n._ A small four-legged stool. - - +Crook+, +Creeak+, +Crewk+, _n._ The hinge upon which a gate swings, - a bent piece of iron to hang anything upon. - - +Crook+, +Crewk+, _n._ An abrupt corner in a field. - - +Crooked+, _adj._ Bent. - - +Crowberries+, _n._ The crowberry fruit (_Empetrum nigrum_). - - +Crowdy+, _n._ Oatmeal porridge. - - +Crow-ling+, _n._ The heath (_Erica cinerea_). - - +Crown+, _n._ Top of the head. - - +Crowp+, _v._ To croak like a toad. - - +Crowse+, _adj._ Lively. _n._ A drinking bout. - - +Cruddle+, _v._ To curdle. - - +Cruds+, _n._ Curds. - - +Cruke+, +Crewk+, +Creeak+, _n._ The rook. _Vide_ +Reeak+. - - +Crunkle+, +Crinkle+, _v._ To crease, rumple. - - +Crush+, _n._ A great crowd. - - +Cuddle+, _v._ To fondle by embracing. - - +Cuddy+, _n._ A donkey, a hedge-sparrow. - - +Culler’d+, _pp._ Blushed. - - +Cum+, _n._ Sweepings of sawdust. - - +Cum+, _v._ Come. - - +Cumber-ground+, _n._ Any thing or person of no value. - - +Cumly+, _Vide_ +Comely+. - - +Cummer+, _v._ To encumber. - - +Cummersome+, _adj._ Burdensome. - - +Cungle+, _v._ To influence by charms or prayers. - - +Cup-rose+, _n._ The common poppy. - - +Cushat+, _n._ Ring-dove. - - +Cush-pet+, _n._ Pet name for a crow; also +Cushy-Cushy+. - - +Cut+, _v._ Be off. - - +Cut and run+ } _v._ To retire hurriedly. - +Cut wer sticks+ } - - +Cutter+, _v._ To whisper. - - +Cuvvins+, _n._ Periwinkles. - - +Cuz+, _n._ Cousin. - - - D. - - +‘D+, Would, had. - - +Daam+, +Deeam+, _n._ A lady, the wife, an aged person. - - +Dab+, _adj._ Dexterous, skilful, _n._ A blow. - Ex.—_He’s a dab hand at t’ job_, i.e. He is skilful at the - business. _Catch him a dab on t’ feeace._ - - + ’Dacity+, _n._ 1. Ability to accomplish. - 2. Presumption, impudence. - Ex.—1. _He’s gitten ’dacity fur owt, ’ez that lad._ - 2. _Ah didn’t aim ’at he ’ed t’ ‘dacity ti ’a’e spokken ti - t’ parson i’ that waay, hooivver._ - - +Daddle+, _v._ To walk unsteadily, to trifle. - - +Daff+, _n._ A coward, a fool. - - +Daffle+, _v._ To confuse, to bewilder with noise. - - +Daffly daffled+, _pp._ Bewildered. - - +Daffy-down-dilly+, _n._ The daffodil. - - +Daft+, _adj._ Foolish, lacking common sense. - - +Daftish+, _adj._ Foolish, like a fool. - - +Dagg+, +Deggle+, _v._ To sprinkle with water. - - +Dainish+, +Densh+, _adj._ Over particular. - - +Daized+, _pp._ Stupefied, suffering from the effect of cold. - - +Dakky+, _n._ A pig. - - +Dale+, _n._ A valley varying in extent. ‘Dale’ is usually - pronounced ‘deeal’. - - +Dale-end+, _n._ The end or widest part of a dale. - - +Dale-heead+, _n._ The upper and narrowest portion of a dale. - - +Dander+, _n._ Rage, temper. - - +Dander+, _v._ To tremble, to vibrate. - - +Danger+, _n._ Risk, probability, doubt. - Ex.—1. _He’s lost hauf on ’em, an’ ther’s a danger ’at other - hauf ’ll dee an’ all._ - - +Dangerous+, _adj._ Doubtful, risky. - Ex.—_It’s nobbut a dangerous consarn ti sink yan’s brass in._ - - +Dangle efter+, _v._ To follow as a lover. - - +Danglements+, _n._ Superfluous trinkets, trimmings of beads, &c. - - +Dank+, _adj._ Damp, moist. - - +Dapper+, _adj._ Sharp, active, nimble. - - +Dappers+, _n._ Birds ready to leave the nest. - - +Dark+, _v._ To follow or move slily about, to listen unperceived. - - +Darkening+, _n._ Twilight. - - +Darrn’t+, _v._ Dare not. - - +Darr+, _v._ To dare. - Ex.—_Ah darr tackle yon job._ To tell any one they dare not do a - certain thing, is to dare them to it, e.g. _He darrn’t jump - whahl Ah darr’d him ti ’t, an’ then he went that cauf-hearted - at it, whahl he tumm’ld blob in._ - - +Dased+, +Deeased+. _Vide_ +Daized+. - - _Datherin’._ _Vide_ +Ditherin’+. - - +Daul’d+, _pp._ Tired, weary. - Ex.—_Ah daul’d on ’t_, i.e. ‘I tired of it.’ - - +Daul’d oot+, _part._ Tired out. - - +Daupee+, _n._ The grey-headed crow. - - +Daytal+, _adj._ By the day. - - +Daytalman+, _n._ A farm labourer hired by the day. - - +Deaf+, +Deeaf+, _adj._ Lacking a kernel, barren. - - +Deaf+ or +Deeaf nettle+, _n._ The blind or hemp nettle. - - +Deary+, _adj._ Puny, lovable. - Ex.—_Sha’s a deary larl honey._ - - +Deave+, +Deeave+, _adj._ Deaf. - - +Deaven+, _v._ To deafen. - - +Decoy-duck+, _n._ A by-name given to one who leads others astray. - - +Dee+, _v._ To die. - - +Deea+, _v._ 1. Do. - 2. To swindle. - Ex.—2. _He’ll deea him if he dizn’t watch him_, i.e. ‘He will - swindle him if he does not take care.’ - - +Deead+, _adj._ Dead. - - +Deeafly+, +Deavely+, _adj._ Alone, by oneself. - - +Deeak+, _n._ Duke. - - +Deean+, _pp._ of Do. Also swindled overmatched. - Ex.—_Ah’ve deean him neycely_, i.e. ‘I have taken him in nicely.’ - - +Deean’t+, +Doan’t+, _v._ Do not. - - +Deear+, +Doour+, _n._ Door. - - +Deearstan+, _n._ _Vide_ +Doorstan+. - - +Deearsteead+, _n._ The framework of the door; also +Doourstead+, &c. - - +Deeatchess+, _n._ Duchess. - - +Deeath+, _n._ Death. - - +Deeath-smear+ } - +Deeath-clam+ } _n._ The clammy sweat of death. - +Deeath-sweeat+ } - - +Deeazment+, _n._ Chilled to the bone. - - +Deed+, _n._ Doings, applied indiscriminately to events of a joyous - or sorrowful nature. - Ex.—_Ther war straange deed at Willie’s wedding. Ah nivver seed - sike deed ez ther war at Ann’s funeral._ - - +Deedless+, _adj._ Useless, helpless. - - +Deggle+, _Vide_ +Dagg+. - - _Deft_, _adj._ Quick, clever, neat. - - +Delf-rack+, _n._ An arrangement of wooden bars to hold plates and - dishes. - - +Dempt+, _pp._ Deemed, thought. - - +Deng+, _v._ To knock off with violence, to throw down, to wrench - off. - - +Densh+, _Vide_ +Dainish+. - - +Deny+, _v._ To refuse. - Ex.—_Ah’ll see Tommy mysel, he’ll nut deny me. Ah weean’t deny - tha fishing, hooivver._ - - +Despert+, _adv._ Exceedingly, used as an augmentative. - Ex.—_Ther war despert grand deed at ’t Squire’s dinner._ - - +Dess+, _n._ A mass built up by degrees; a block cut out, as a - dess of hay. - - +Dessably+, _adj._ Orderly. - - +Devil-screamer+, _n._ The swift. - - +Dhriss+, _Vide_ +Dress+. - - +Dib+, _v._ To dip. - - +Dibbing+, _v._ To dip, as with a fly on the top of the water. - - +Dice+, _n._ A small portion, as a dice of cheese; a square piece - of anything. - - +Dicky+, _adj._ Doubtful. - Ex.—_It nobbut leeaks a bit dicky._ - - +Dicky+, _n._ A louse. - - +Dicky-ass+, _n._ A donkey. - - +Didder+, _Vide_ +Dither+. - - +Differ+, _v._ To quarrel. - - +Differing bout+, _n._ A wordy quarrel. - - +Dike+, _n._ A ditch. - - +Dike-back+, _n._ The bank forming one side of a ditch. - - +Dike-cam+, _n._ The bank-side of a ditch. - - +Dildering+, +Dilder+, _v._ To shake, unstable, silly. - - +Dill+, _v._ To lessen, to deaden. - Ex.—_Clap a plaaster on, it’ll dill ’t paain._ - - +Dilldam+, +Dilldum+, or +Dilldrum+, _n._ A loud noise, boisterous - merry-making. - - +Dindle+, _v._ To have a tingling sensation after a fall or blow. - - +Ding+, _Vide_ +Deng+. - - +Dingle+, _v._ To tingle after a blow. - - +Dint+, _n._ Energy, force, power. - Ex.—_By dint an’ sticking ti ’t, he’ll mannish ’t._ - - +Dither+, _v._ To shiver, to shake with fear. - - +Doan’t+, +Deean’t+, = Do not. - - +Docken+, _n._ The dock plant. Also denotes of little value. - Ex.—_Ah wadn’t ’a’e gi’en a docken for ’t._ - - +Dodded+, _adj._ Hornless. - - +Dodderums+, _n._ Shaking violently, unnerved. - - +Doddery+, +Dothery+, _adj._ _Vide_ +Dither+. - - +Doddings+, _n._ Matted wool on the hind quarters of sheep. - - +Doff+, _v._ 1. To remove the garments. - 2. To raise the hat. - Ex.—1. _Ah’ll doff mah duds iv a crack._ - 2. _Ah doff’d mah cap tiv her._ - - +Dog+, _v._ To set a dog to drive sheep. - - +Dog+, _n._ A piece of iron fitted within the fire-grate, thereby - reducing its size, so as to save coal. - - +Dog-choops+, _n._ Hips, the fruit of the dog-rose. - - +Doggers+, _n._ Nodules containing a fossil, and used in the - making of Roman cement. - - +Dog-jumps+, _Vide_ +Dog-choops+. - - +Dog one’s footsteps, To+, _v._ To persistently follow any one. - - +Doit+, _n._ A small portion. - - +Dole+, _n._ The distribution of money left to some charity, or - that given at a funeral. - - +Dole out+, _v._ To give in small quantities. - - +Dollop+, _n._ A clumsy person or badly-formed thing, a number or - quantity of persons or things. - - +Dolly-stick+, _n._ A handle to which is affixed an arrangement - like a small four-legged stool, being used to give a - half-circular motion to the clothes in the tub, which is termed - dollying. - - +Dolly-tub+, _n._ A round tub used to wash clothes in. - - +Don+, _v._ and _adj._ 1. To put on one’s better attire. - 2. Clever. - Ex.—1. _Ah’ll don mysel up a bit, ez Janey’s cumin’ ti tea._ - 2. _He’s a don hand at deeaing owt o’ that sooart._ - - +Donk+, _Vide_ +Dank+. - - +Donnot+, _n._ An immoral female. - - +Doody-cow+, _n._ The ladybird beetle. - - +Door+, +Deear+, +Doour-cheek+, _n._ Sidepost of a door. - - ” ” ” +sill+, _n._ The threshold of the door. - - ” ” ” +stan+, _n._ The flagstone in front of the - doorway, often mistaken as meaning the doorstep. - - +Door+, +Doour+, +Deear+, +To get to the+ = Able to walk abroad. - - +Doory+, _adv._ Very little, a trifle. - - +Dordum+, _n._ A dreadful uproar. - - +Dorse+, +Duzz+, _v._ To shake out from the ear by reason of - over-ripeness. - - +Dossel+, _n._ A bunch of wheat, the finest ears being selected to - be used as an ornament; formerly such bunches were fixed on the - top of corn-pikes. - - +Dossel-knob+, _n._ The straw knob at the top of a stick which - terminates the thatch. - - +Dothering-grass+, _Vide_ +Trimm’ling-gess+. - - +Dotteril+, _n._ A dotard. - - +Douk+, _v._ To duck under, to dive as a water-fowl. - - +Doup+, _Vide_ +Daupee+. - - +Dou’t+, +Doot+, _v._ Almost certain. - Ex.—_Ah doot he’s laam’d fur leyfe. Ah doot wa saan’t git it._ - - +Dow+, _v._ To thrive. - - +Dowdy+, _n._ An untidy woman. - - +Dowled+, _adj._ Flat, said of long-drawn beer. - - +Dowly+, _adj._ Sad, poorly, downhearted. - - +Down+, _v._ To knock or throw down. - Ex.—_Ah’ve doon’d tha yance, an’ if Ah ’ev onny mair o’ thi lip, - Ah’ll doon tha ageean._ - - +Down-come+, _n._ A spout at the side of the house, a heavy - downpour of rain. - - +Down-dinner+ = Afternoon allowance. - - +Dowse+, _n._ A blow from the fist. - Ex.—_Ah’ll catch tha a dowse on t’ sahd o’ t’ heead._ - - +Dowse+, _v._ To wet to the skin. - Ex.—_He dowsed t’ lot on uz wi’ t’ hose. Ah gat sike a dowsing_, - said one who fell into a stream. - - +Dozzen’d+, _adj._ Withered, blighted. - - +Drab+, _n._ A dirty slut. - - +Drabbletail+, _Vide_ +Flappy-sket+. - - +Draff+, _n._ Refuse from a brewery for pigs, grains. - - +Draker-hen+, _n._ Corn-crake. - - +Drape+, +Dreeap+, _n._ A cow not giving milk. - - +Drate+, _v._ To drag one’s speech, to drawl. - - +Draught+, _n._ A team of horses, not less than three. - - +Draw up+, _v._ To gather together. - Ex.—_Thoo mun ring t’ bell an’ call oot, an’ they’ll seean draw - up._ - - +Drazzle+, _n._ A shower of fine rain and mist. - - +Dree+, _adj._ Tiring, weary. - Ex.—_It’s nobbut a dree job this._ - - +Dree+, _adv._ Slowly. - - +Dree+, _v.a._ To deliver tediously. - - +Dreeap+, _Vide_ +Drape+. - - +Dreep+, _v._ Drop by drop. - - +Dress+, +Dhriss+, _v._ 1. To tidy up. - 2. To correct, to punish. - Ex.—1. _Ah s’all ’a’e ti dhriss things up a bit afoor sha cums._ - 2. _Thoo impident young raggel, thi fatther owt ti dhriss thi - jacket weel foor tha_, i.e. ‘Your father ought to chastise you.’ - - +Dressin’+, +Dhrissin’+, _part._ and _n._ 1. Preparing. - 2. Chastisement, severe scolding. The use of this word is - peculiar. - Ex.—1. _Things ’ll want dhrissing up a bit afoor Ah start ti - wark_, signifies that a certain amount of work not actually - connected with the ‘thing’ itself must be done or prepared - beforehand, such as tidying up the bench, or rough planing - before marking out. _He nivver gits neea fother ’an dhrissing - things afoor he starts o’ summat else._ - 2. _He’ll nut foorgit ma, Ah nivver gav onnybody sike a dhrissing - afoor._ - - +Dribblet+, _n._ A small quantity at a time. - Ex.— _He’ll pay ma back, Ah’ve neea doot, bud Ah s’all ’a’e ti - tak ’t noos an’ agaains i’ dribblets._ - - +Drinch+, _n._ An aperient drink for a cow. - - +Drinching+, _part._ To be drenched. - - +Drinkin’ tahm+, _n._ The usual extra allowance during hay or - harvest time. - - +Drippling+, _adj._ Weak, small. - Ex.—_Sha’s nobbut a drippling bairn._ - - +Drive+, +Dhrive+, _v._ To procrastinate. - Ex.—_Thoo dhrives ivverything whahl t’ last bat, an’ then thoo - nivver gits nowt deean._ - - +Droll on+, _v._ To half promise, to lead one to believe. - Ex.—_Ah nobbut drolls him on a bit, Ah saan’t tell him nowt - ’at’s owt._ - - +Drolly+, _n._ _Vide_ +Capster+. - - +Droothy+, +Drouthy+, _adj._ Suffering from excessive thirst. - - +Drooty+, _adj._ Very dry, a long continuance of fine dry weather. - - +Drop+, _v._ 1. To lose. - 2. To fell with a blow. - 3. To kill a bird on the wing. - Ex.—1. _He’d drop a canny bit ower that last bargain._ - 2. _He up wi’ his neeaf an’ dropped him leyke an ox._ - 3. _He fired in amang ’em an’ dropped three._ - - +Drop-dry+, _adj._ Water-tight, as of a roof. - - +Drop in+, _v._ To pay a casual visit. - - +Drop it+ or +that+, _v._ To cease doing. - Ex.—_Noo drop it_, i.e. ‘Discontinue the act.’ _Drop that racket_, - i.e. ‘Cease that noise.’ - - +Drop on+, _v._ 1. To surprise. - 2. To discover. - Ex.—1. _Ah nivver wur seea dropped on afoor_, i.e. ‘Never so - surprised,’ or ‘suddenly caught in the act.’ - 2. _Ah dropped on it all at yance_, i.e. ‘I discovered it all at - once.’ It also implies a sense of shame, e.g. _Ah did feel dropped - on when he catched ma_. - - +Droppy+, _adj._ Applied to rain long continued. - Ex.—_It’s nobbut a droppy tahm._ - - +Drubbin’+, _n._ A thrashing. - - +Dub+, _n._ A large pond. - - +Dubbin’+, _v._ and _n._ 1. To lower one’s dignity. - 2. A thrashing. - Ex.—1. _He’s ti clivver by hauf is yon youth, he wants dubbin’ - a bit._ - 2. _Ah’ll gi’e tha sike a dubbin’ ez thoo ’ezn’t ’ed ov a piece, - if thoo dizn’t mahnd thisel._ ‘Dubbing’ originally meant - cutting the comb and wattle of a gamecock. - - +Duck+, _v._ To drop the head so as to evade a missile. - - +Ducks and drakes+, _v._ A stone thrown so as to skim with short - leaps along the water. - - +Duds+, _n._ Clothes, usually applied to old garments. - - +Dulbert+, _n._ A stupid fellow. Also +Dullard+. - - +Dump+, _Vide_ +Dub+. - - +Dunderheead+, +Dunderknowle+, _n._ A blockhead. - - +Dundy-cow+ or +Dowdy-cow+, _n._ The ladybird. - - +Dwine+, _v._ To pine away, to fade. - - +Dwinn’l+, _v._ To decrease. - - +Dwiny+, _n._ and _adj._ Fading, small. - - +Dwiny-voiced+, _adj._ Weak-voiced. - - +Dwizzend+, _adj._ Thin, wrinkled, shrunk. - - - E. - - +Ĕ+, _per. pron._ I. The short sound of ‘Ah,’ as _Mun ĕ cum?_ - i.e. ‘Must I come?’ Although rarely used by writers, it must be - admitted, when speaking the dialect, it is as commonly used as - ‘Ah.’ - - +Eak+, _n._ The oak. - - +Earan+, _n._ An errand. - - +Earnest+, _n._ A sum of money paid to bind a bargain. - - +Earning+, _Vide_ +Yearning+. - - +Ease+, _v._ To spatter with mud, to accede to the demands of - nature, to obtain ease from pain. - - +Easement+, _n._ Alleviation from pain, the remedy applied. - - +Easings+, _n._ The eaves. - - +Easter-shells+, _n._ The periwinkle. - - +E’e+, _n._ The eye, that part of a potato from which the sprout - leads. - - +Een+, _n._ The eyes. - - +Een+, _n._ 1. The evening, as ‘yester een.’ - 2. The eve of any fast-day, as ‘All Hallows’ Een.’ - - +Een-holes+, _n._ The eye sockets. - - +Efter+, +Efther+, _prep._ After. ‘Efther’ becomes general as we - approach the East Riding. - - +Efterneean+, _n._ Afternoon. - - +Egg on+, _v._ To incite, to urge. - Ex.—_It wer yowr Tom ’at egg’d him on ti kiss ma. Ah nivver - s’u’d ’a’e set mysel ti loup t’ beck if he hedn’t egg’d ma on - and darr’d ma tiv it._ - - +Eldin+, _n._ Firewood of any kind. - - +Eller+, _n._ The alder-tree. - - +Elsin+, +Alsin+, _n._ A shoemaker’s awl. - - +‘Em+, _pro._ Them. - - +End-board+, _n._ The tail-board of a cart. - - +Endeavouring+, _adj._ Striving, industrious. - Ex.—_Sha’s a fendy endivering lahtle body. He’s a varra - endivering young chap, an’ he’ll mak a man ov hissel._ - - +End, Girt+, _Vide_ +Gret end+. - - +End na sahd+, 1. Nothing. - 2. Not understandable. - Ex.—1. _Ther’s nowther end na sahd tiv owt ’at he diz_, - i.e. ‘Neither beginning nor end,’ nothing. - 2. _Ah c’u’d nowder mak end na sahd ov owt ’at t’ chap war - raffling on aboot._ - - +End, Reet upon+, _adv._ Upright. - Ex.—_Let’s git it reet upon end fust, an’ then wa s’all mannish._ - - +Enoo+, +Enew+, _n._ 1. Enough in number. - 2. Sufficiently cooked. - Ex.—1. _Thoo wants neea mair, thoo’s gitten mair ’an enew ez it - is._ - 2. _It owt ti be enew by this, it’s been i’ t’ yewn ower an hoor._ - - +Enow+, _Vide_ +Inoo+. - - +Entry+, _n._ The passage within the house, or small entrance hall. - - +Ept+, _adj._ Handy. - - +Esh+, _n._ The ash-tree. - - +Ewse+, _n._ Use. - - +Expect+, _v._ 1. To imagine, to suppose. - 2. Not quite certain. - Ex.—1. _Ah expect it war him ’at did it._ - 2. _Yan nivver can saay, bud Ah expect sha’ll win t’ prize. Sha’s - neea waays sure, sha nobbut expects seea._ - - +Extremity, To be in an+ = To be at the far end. - Ex.—_Ah war in an extremity a’ paain. Nowt c’u’d ’a’e been warse, - sha war in a complete extremity._ - - +Ez+, as. +‘Ez+, has. - - - F. - - +Fadge+, _v._ Between a walk and a trot. - Ex.—_T’ au’d meer an’ me, wa’ve fadged along monny a mahl - tigither._ - - +Fadgy+, _adj._ Fat, unwieldy. - Ex.—_Buxom at twenty, fadgy at fo’tty._ - - +Faff+, _v._ To blow in puffs. - - +Faffle+, _n._ A light intermittent wind. - - +Faffle+, _v._ To flap gently, as a ship’s sail. - - +Fahve o’ clocks+, _n._ Ripe seed-heads of the dandelion, which - children blow at to ascertain the time. - - +Fail+, _v._ To show signs of growing weakness day by day. - - +Fain+, _adv._ Gladly. - - +Fair+, _adv._ Altogether, absolutely. - Ex.—_Ah’s fair bet wi’ t’ lad. Ah nivver war sae fairly takken - in wiv a lass ez Ah ’a’e been wi’ Tom’s weyfe._ - - +Fairish+, _adj._ Just moderate. - - +Fairlings+, _adv._ Clearly, distinctly. - Ex.—_Naay! he fairlings gat t’ best a’ thah that tahm._ - - +Fair to see+, Easy to see or understand. - - +Fair up+, _Vide_ +Clear up+. - - +Fairy butter+, _n._ A yellow fungus found growing on dead wood. - - +Fairings+, _n._ Presents bought at a fair. - - +Fall+, _v._ 1. To happen. - 2. To become finely divided, as lime when slaked. - Ex.—1. _Whya, it mebbe mud fall i’ that road_, i.e. ‘Why, it - maybe might happen in that way.’ - - +Fallen away+, _v._ To have decreased in bulk, to grow thin. - Ex.—_Whya, it’s fallen awaay ti nowt._ - - +Fall in+, _v._ To meet accidentally. - Ex.—_Oor Martie war pleased ti fall in wi’ John an’ Annie at - Bedale._ - - +Fall out+, _v._ To quarrel, to have a misunderstanding. - Ex.—_Tha’re nut kind noo, tha fell owt ower Tommy’s pig. Ah - nivver knew sike nibors ez them tweea, tha’re awlus quarting - an’ fratching, an’ falling oot t’ ane wi’ t’ uther._ - - +Fall teea+, _v._ To commence. - Ex.—_Noo all t’ lot on ya fall teea an’ set ti wark._ - - +Fan+, +Fand+, +Fun+, +Fund+, _part._ and _pp._ of ‘to find.’ - - +Fangle+, _v._ To seize, to entrap. - - +Fangled+, _pp._ Caught. - - +Fantickle+, _n._ A freckle. - - +Far+, _adj._ Further, more distant than. - Ex.—_Ah ligg’d it doon i’ t’ far sahd o’ yon field._ - - +Far an’ awaay+, _adv._ Much, decidedly. - Ex.—_Sha’s far an’ awaay t’ best-leeaking lass aboot here_; - often +Far awaay+. - - +Farantly+, _adj._ Decent, well behaved; neat, nice, orderly. - - +Fardel+, _n._ A small bundle. - - +Farden+, _n._ Farthing. - - +Fare+, _v._ 1. To approach, to draw nigh to. - 2. To seem. - 3. To succeed. - 4. To conduct oneself, to behave. - Ex.—1. _Sha fares o’ cauvin’._ - 2. _Yon lass fares dafter na Sally Ridge._ - 3. _Thoo’s gahin’ ti fare t’ warst wi’ t’ cauves, Ah think; thoo - mun git sum keeak intiv ’em._ - 4. _He fares foor gitting t’ sack._ - - +Far end+, The close of anything, almost _in extremis_. - Ex.—_Tell her Ah’ll cum when Ah’ve deean; Ah saan’t be lang; - Ah’ve ommaist gitten ti t’ far end. Ah’ve just left him; Ah - deean’t aim ’at he’ll see t’ neet throw, he’s ommaist at t’ - far end noo._ - - +Far-fetched+, _adj._ Unlikely, improbable. - - +Farness+, _n._ Distance. - Ex.—_T’ farness on ’t taks all t’ profit awaay, gahin’ an’ - cumin’._ - - +Farrish+, +Fairish on+, _adj._ Considerably advanced. - Ex.—_He mun be gitting fairish on i’ years noo. He gat farrish - on at t’ dinner, did Tommy, afoor he gat to’n’d ti t’ doour._ - - +Far-side+, _n._ The further side, the right-hand or off side; the - +Nar-side+ being the left-hand. - - +Fash+, _v._ 1. To worry. - 2. To inconvenience oneself. - Ex.—1. _Just thee tak thi awn gate, an’ deean’t fash thisen aboot - nowt._ - 2. _Ah wadn’t fash mysel a larl bit fur owther him or her._ - - +Fast+, _adj._ 1. At a standstill. - 2. In a fix. - Ex.—1. _Ah caan’t deea nowt, Ah’s fast foor a sup o’ wet._ - 2. _Ah think ’at Ah nivver war sae fast iv all my wick._ - - +Fasten+ or +Fass’n oot+, _v._ Said of sheep when turned from the - grass on to the moor for the season. - - +Father+, _v._ 1. To impute. - 2. To bear witness of itself, as an illegitimate child. - Ex.—1. _He’s awlus tryin’ ti father his misdeeds o’ sumbody. Ah - wadn’t let him father his lees o’ me._ - 2. _Ther’s neea call ti mak t’ poor lass gan afoor her betters, - t’ bairn sha hugs fathers itsel._ - - +Fatrascal+, _n._ A cake made with butter, flour, and currants; a - rich kind of small tea-cake. - - +Faugh+, +Fauf+, _n._ Fallow land. - - +Fause+, _adj._ False. - - +Fayther+, +Fadder+, _n._ Father. - - +Fear’d, To be+, _v._ To be apprehensive of, to be afraid. - Ex.—_It’s to be fear’d t’ warst’ll happen._ - - +Fearful+, _adv._ Exceedingly, used as an augmentative. - - +Fearsome+, _adj._ Awful, terrifying. - - +Feather-fallen+, _adj._ Crestfallen. - - +Feather-fowl+, _n._ Birds. - - +Featly+, _adv._ Dexterously. - Ex.—_Noo, he lapp’d that job up weel. Aye, it war varra featly - deean._ - - +Feck+, _n._ Ability, quantity, mass. - - +Feckless+, _adj._ Lacking management, wanting ability to provide - for oneself. - Ex.—_Sha’s a feckless miss, is yon; sha’s up ti nowt, good ti - nowt, an’ warse ’an nowt._ - - +Feeal+, _n._ A fool. - - +Fegs+, _n._ Dead grass-stems, anything of small value. - - +Fele+, +Felt+, _v._ To hide. - - +Fell+, _v._ To knock down. - - +Fell+, _n._ An undressed hide or skin, a moorland summit, a hill. - - +Fell+, _adj._ Keen, striving. - - +Fell’d+, _v._ To be prostrate, knocked down. - - +Felon bone+, _n._ An abscess on the finger or some other part of - the hand, from which, during suppuration, small pieces of rotted - bone are ejected. - - +Felon o’ t’ yuer+, A disease the cow’s udder is liable to. - - +Fellow-fond+, _adj._ Wild after the men. A girl is said to be - ‘fellow-fond’ when her arts and guiles to gain a lover are too - plainly manifest. - - +Felt+, _Vide_ +Fele+. - - +Felter+, _n._ One who hides things. - - +Felter+, _v._ To entangle, to twist, to clot. NOTE.—+Cotter+ is - much more commonly used now. - - +Feltrics+, _n._ A disorder horses are liable to. - - +Femmer+, _adj._ Slight, light, weak. - - +Fend+, _v._ To provide, to be able to do. - - +Fendable+, +Fendy+, _adj._ Capable of doing. - - +Fengle+, _Vide_ +Fangle+. - - +Fent+, _n._ A vent or slit in a garment. - - +Fent+, _v._ To bind the edge of anything. - - +Fer+, +Foor+, +Fur+, _prep._ For. - - +Fest+, _v._ To bind an apprentice. - - +Fet+, _v._ To last out, serve round, to serve. - Ex.—_It’ll fet uz ower Sunday. It’ll fet t’ lot on uz if Tom - carves._ - - +Fetch+, _n._ A stitch or catch in the side, difficulty in - breathing. - - +Fetch+, _v._ To give, to bring. - Ex.—_Ah’ll fetch tha yan ower t’ feeace._ _Ah’ll fetch tha ’t - when Ah cum fra t’ market._ _Fetch t’ barrer ower here_, - i.e. ‘Bring the barrow over here.’ - - +Fettle+, _v._ 1. To repair. - 2. To put in order. - 3. To be in good order. - Ex.—1. _Thoo mun fettle t’ au’d cart up a larl piece_, i.e. ‘You - must repair the old cart a little,’ - 2. _Ah’ll fettle things up a bit afoor ya cum back_, i.e. ‘I will - put things in order by the time you return,’ - 3. _T’ machine’s i’ grand fettle._ - - +Few+, _n._ Amount, generally used with some qualifying adjective, - as ‘a good few,’ ‘a larl few,’ ‘a gay few.’ - - +Fick+, _v._ To struggle under restraint. - - +Fik+, _v._ 1. To strive. - 2. To obtain. - Ex.—1. _He fick’d on whahl he gat it._ - 2. _He fick’d it i’ t’ end._ - - +Find heart, To+, _v._ To make up one’s mind. - Ex.—_Sha’s blinnd, bud Ah can’t finnd heart ti put t’ poor au’d - critter oot o’ t’ road._ - - +Finnick+, _v._ To be over-particular in doing things. - - +Fire-flaught+, _n._ and _adj._ A lighted coal which leaps from the - fire, a meteor; passionate. - - +Fire-smatch+, _Vide_ +Stithe+. - - +Fire-steead+, _n._ Fireplace. - - +First-foot+, _Vide_ +Lucky bird+. - - +Fisk+, _v._ To dance about. - - +Fit+, _adj._ 1. Equal to. - 2. Ready. - 3. Inclined. - Ex.—1. _Ah’s fit foor that job, hooivver._ - 2. _T’ meer’s fit onny tahm._ - 3. _Ah’s ommaist fit ti gan._ - - +Fizzle+, _v._ To fidget. - - +Flabbergasher+, _n._ A poser. _Vide_ +Cramper+. - - +Flacker+, _v._ 1. To flutter. - 2. To flicker. - 3. To waver. - Ex.—1. _T’ au’d bo’d flackered ower t’ hedge._ - 2. _T’ cann’l flackered whahl Ah thowt it ’ud gan oot._ - 3. _Ther’s neea dependence on him, he flackers aboot sae._ - - +Flag+, _n._ A snow-flake. - - +Flags+, _n._ The yellow iris. - - +Flam+, _v._ To flatter, to make believe. - - +Flappers+, _n._ Young birds nearly ready to fly. - - +Flappy+, _adj._ Unstable. - - +Flappy-sket+, _n. and adj._ An immoral woman; untidy. - - +Flappy-tongue+, _n._ One whose word cannot be relied upon. - - +Flatch+, _n._ A flatterer, also used as a _verb_. - - +Flather+, _Vide_ +Blether+. - - +Flaum+, _v._ 1. To blaze, to burst out in flame. - 2. To demonstrate great affection so as to gain some advantage. - Ex.—1. _It flaum’d up leyke all that, bud then it war ez dry ez a - kex._ - 2. _Sha flaum’d aboot ma that mich, whahl i’ t’ end Ah ’ed ti - gi’e waay an’ let ’em git wed._ - - +Flaumy+, _adj._ Common, tawdry, _n._ Fulsome caresses. - - +Flaun+, _n._ A custard tart. - - +Flaup+, +Flauping+, _n._ +Flaupy+, +Flaupish+, _adj._ Senseless - talk. - - +Flawter+, +Flowter+, _v._ To unnerve, to flurry. - Ex.—_Ah war sairly flowtered when Ah heeard o’ Jimmy’s deeath._ - - +Flay+, _v._ To frighten. Also +Fley+. - - +Flay-boggle+, _n._ A ghost. - - +Flay-craw+, +-creeak+, or +-cruke+, _n._ A scarecrow. - - +Flaysome+, _adj._ Causing fear. - - +Flee+, _n._ A fly. - Ex.—_Ah deean’t meean fleas ’at’s fleas, bud flees ’at flee_, - i.e. ‘I do not mean fleas that are fleas, but flies that fly.’ - - +Fleead+, _n._ A flood. - - +Fleead+, _v._ To flood. - Ex.—_Ah’s gahin’ ti let t’ dam off an’ fleead t’ boddums._ - - +Fleear+, _n._ A floor. - - +Fleece+, _n._ Obesity. - Ex.—_Wait whahl he gans throw all ’at Ah’ve gane throw, an’ he - weean’t hug sike a fleece._ - - +Fleece+, _v._ To take all that a man has. - Ex.—_Oh, sha’s a rank bad un; tha saay ’at sha’s fleeced him ov - ivvery haupenny he ’ed._ - - +Fleeing-aither+ or +-ask+, _n._ The dragon-fly. - - +Fleer+, _v._ To laugh at, to ridicule. - - +Flesh-fly+, _n._ The common bluebottle. - - +Flesh-meat+, _n._ Butcher’s meat, not pork. - - +Flick+, _n._ A flitch of bacon. - - +Flick+, _v._ To remove any light dust or thing with a rapid motion, - as with a duster or whip-lash. - - +Flicker+, _v._ and _n._ To exist for an instant, as a smile; the - action of a dying flame. - - +Flig+, _v._ To fly. - - +Fligged+, _part._ Having left the nest. - - +Fliggers+, _Vide_ +Flappers+. - - +Flipe+, _n._ The brim of a hat. - - +Flipe+, _v._ To remove dust by any quick, light motion, as with a - handkerchief. _Vide_ +Flick+. - - +Flisk+, _n._ A light tap. - Ex.—_Sha nobbut flisk’d him wi’ her larl finger._ - - +Flit+, _v._ To remove to another house. - - +Flite+, +Fleeght+, _v._ 1. To scold with many words. - 2. To quarrel. - Ex.—1. _Sha nivver lets ma be, sha’s awlus fliting at ma._ - 2. _Tha’re fliting t’ ane agaain t’ ither that mich whahl Ah’ve - cum’d awaay._ - - +Flither+, _n._ The common limpet. - - +Flittermouse+, _n._ The common bat. - - +Flitting+, _v._ The act of removing. - - +Flity+, _adj._ Unstable. - Ex.—_Ah wadn’t trust her, nowder yah waay ner anuther, sha’s - sike a flity body._ - - +Flobbed up+, _part._ Swollen. - - +Flop+, _v._ To sit down with a sudden drop, to set things down of - a sudden and carelessly. - - +Floss-docken+, +Fox-docken+, _n._ The foxglove (_Digitalis - purpurea_). - - +Floss-seave+, _n._ Cotton-grass. - - +Flowtered+, _part._ Upset, nervous. - - +Flowterment+, _n._ Excitement in speech and behaviour. - - +Flowtersome+, _adj._ Excitable, tomboyish. - - +Fluff’d+, +Fluff’d up+, _adj._ Conceited. - - +Fluffy+, _adj._ Covered with down, light, feathery. - - +Fluke+, +Fleeak+, +Fleuks+, _n._ A small maggot found in the liver - of sheep. - - +Fluky+, +Fleeaky+, +Fleuky+, _adj._ Maggot-eaten, fly-blown. - - +Flushy-feeaced+, _adj._ Red complexioned. - - +Fluster+, +Flusterment+, _n._ A state of being heated by - excitement, agitation. - Ex.—_What a flusterment that bairn ’ez putt en uz all inteea! wa - thowt ’at he’d gitten hissel lost._ - - +Fly, To let+, _v._ To strike with force. - - +Foal’s-foot+, _n._ Coltsfoot (_Tussilago farfara_). - - +Fod+, _n._ A small bundle of straw. - - +Fodder-hoos+, _n._ A barn for storing fodder. - - +Fog+, _n._ The grass which grows after the hay has been removed. - - +Fog-field+, _n._ A field left for the second growth of grass to - spring up after haytime. - - +Foisty+, _adj._ Musty, damp, mouldy. - - +Fold-+ or +Fod-garth+, +Fod-yard+, _n._ The farmyard where the - beasts are fed. - - +Folk+, +Fau’k+, +Fooak+, _n._ The people, often used with and - generally qualified by a prefix, as _T’ au’d folk_, _T’ young - fooak_, _Chetch-fau’k_, _Chapel-fau’k_. - - +Fond+, _adj._ Silly. - - +Fond-head+, _n._ A silly fellow. - - +Fondness+, _n._ Nonsense. - - +Fondy+, _n._ A simpleton. - - +Foor+, +Fur+, +Fer+, _prep._ For. - - +Foorced+, _part._ Compelled. - Ex.—_Ther’s neea waay o’ gittin oot on ’t, Ah s’ be foorced ti - gan._ _He’ll foorce tha ti deea ’t._ - - +Foot, The length of my+ = A kick. - Ex.—_If thoo isn’t off iv a quickstick, Ah’ll gi’e tha t’ len’th - o’ mah foot._ - - +Foot, To get or take the length of one’s+ = 1. To judge a person - accurately. - 2. To have completely won another’s confidence. - Ex.—1. _He’ll nut best ma, weean’t yon; Ah teeak t’ len’th o’ his - foot lang sin._ - 2. _Sha lets him deea just what he leykes wiv her brass; he’s - gitten t’ len’th ov her foot, an’ ther’s nowt aboot that._ - - +Footing+, _n._ Money claimed from a new apprentice on commencing - his apprenticeship, commonly called paying his footing; the sum - paid is always spent in drink. - - +Footings+, _n._ The lowest foundations. - - +For+, +Fur+ = In what direction. - Ex.—_Noo, then, wheear’s thoo for? Ah’s for Ayton, is thoo for - Stowsla?_ - - +Fore+, _prep._ Before. +Afoor+ is much more general. - - +Fore-elders+, _n._ Forefathers. - - +Fore-end+, +Forr-end+, _n._ 1. The beginning of a season or time. - 2. The springtime. - Ex.—1. _At t’ forr-end he war ez reet ez a trivet, bud he maad a - varra poor finish on ’t._ - 2. _If t’ back-end be owt leyke t’ forr-end wa s’all mannish - grandly._ - - +Forking-robin+, _n._ The earwig. - - +Forks, A pair o’+, _n._ The centre timber of a roof. - - +For-wandered+, _adj._ Bewildered. - - +Fo’st+, +Fust+, _adj._ First. - - +Fo’ther+, _adv._ Further. - - +Foul-fingered+, _adj._ Given to stealing. - - +Foul-lipped+ } - +Foul-mouthed+ } _adj._ Given to swearing or lewd talk. - - +Foulmart+, +Fumart+, _n._ The polecat. - - +Foupe+, _v._ To drive sheep, &c., too quickly. - Ex.—_Thoo’ll ’a’e sum o’ them sheep deead beeat if thoo foupes - ’em i’ that road._ - - +Fou’t+, _n._ A fault. - - +Fou’ty+, _adj._ Badly made, ill fitting. - - +Fowt+, _part._ Fought. - - +Fowt+, +Fout+, _n._ An idiot, a spoiled child. - - +Foxy+, _adj._ Cunning. - - +Fra+, +Frav+, +Frev+, _prep._ From, ‘Fra’ is used before a - consonant, ‘frav’ and ‘frev’ before a vowel. - - +Fraby+, +Frebby+, _prep._ 1. Beyond. - 2. Compared with. Still common in parts of Cleveland. - Ex.—1. _‘T’ll be fraby ten mahl ti Yarm._ - 2. _Thahn frebby mahn’s t’ best o’ t’ tweea on ’em._ - - +Framation+, _n._ Dexterity, ability, skill shown at the - commencement of any work. - Ex.—_Noo, yon chap hez a bit o’ framation aboot him._ - - +Frame+, _v._ To show good management, contrive well. - Ex.—_T’ lass frames weel ti milk._ - - +Fratch+, _v._ To quarrel. - - +Fraunge+, _v._ To play a joke. - - +Fresh+, _adj._ Intoxicated. - - +Fresh-wood+, _n._ The threshold of a doorway. - - +Fridge+, _v._ To rub against so as to cause a sore. - - +Frightened+, +Freetened+, _adj._ and _part._ 1. Doubtful as to. - 2. Apprehensive of. - 3. Bashful. - Ex.—1. _Ah’s freetened he weean’t mannish ti cum._ - 2. _Sha war despert freetened ’at he war gahin’ ti splet aboot - what tha’d deean._ - 3. _Gi’e t’ lass a kiss, deean’t be freetened._ - - +Frog-fry+, _n._ Frog- or toad-spawn. - - +Fromward+, _prep._ Away from. - - +Frough+, _adj._ Soft, spongy. - - +Frow+, _n._ An untidy person, generally a female. - - +Frowsy+, _adj._ Applied to a forbidding countenance, untidy, - musty. - - +Frutas+, _n._ A kind of tea-cake made of batter and fruits fried - in butter on Ash Wednesday. - - +Fuggy+, _adj._ First. _Vide_ +Laggy+. - - +Full+, _adv._ An intensive, as ‘Full seean,’ i.e. ‘full soon.’ - Ex.—_Ah’ll be on full seean efter dinner_, i.e. ‘very soon.’ - - +Full-fligged+, _adj._ Full-feathered. - - +Fullock+, _v._ To shoot a marble with force, and by unfairly - overreaching the line; to do anything with considerable force. - Ex.—_He went at it wi’ sike a fullock._ - - +Full-up+, _adv._ Quite full. - - +Fun+, _pp._ of Find. - - +Fur+, For. - - +Furmety+, +Frummety+, _n._ Creed-wheat boiled in milk, thickened - with lithing, sweetened, and flavoured with cloves, nutmeg, &c., - only eaten at Christmas time. - - +Furrh+, _n._ A furrow. - - +Fustilugs+, _n._ A low fellow. - - +Fuzzack+, _n._ A donkey. - - +Fuzz-ball+, _n._ The common field-fungus which, when ripe, on - being nipped emits a cloud of brown dust-spores. - - +Fuzzle+, _v._ To intoxicate. - - - G. - - +Ga’+, _v._ Gave. - - +Gaa+, _v._ To go. - - +Gab+, _n._ Senseless chatter. - Ex.—_Ho’d thi gab_, i.e. ‘Cease your foolish talk,’ or ‘hold your - tongue.’ - - +Gabber+, _v._ To talk foolishly. - - +Gabriel-ratchet+ or +T’ Gabby-ratch+. A sound heard overhead in - the still hours of the night, somewhat resembling the yelping of - dogs; generally thought to be due to a flock of geese. When heard - by the country folk it is looked upon as an omen of death. - - +Gad+, _n._ A pointed rod, a whip-stock fitted with a thong. To - guard against the power of witches the whip-stock was often made - of rowan-tree wood. - - +Gad+, +Gadder+, +Gadabout+, _n._ A gossip. - - +Gadding+, _part._ Gossiping. - - +Gaddish+, _adj._ Inclined to gossip. - - +Gadling+, _adj._ Applied to a gossiping person. - - +Gae+, _Vide_ +Gaa+. - - +Gaed+, _pret._ of +Gae+. - - +Gaffer+, _n._ The master. - Ex.—_Leeak oot, here’s t’ gaffer cumin’._ - - +Gag-bit+, _n._ A powerful bit used when breaking horses. - - +Gah+, _v._ To go. - - +Gahins on+, Doings, festivities, proceedings. - Ex.—_Ther’s been straange gahins on at Bessy’s sen Martha cam - yam._ _Noo, wa ’ed grand gahins on at t’ Jubilee._ - - +Gahlfat+. _Vide_ +Gilevat+. - - +Gain+, +Gainest+, _adj._ Shortest, quickest, easiest. - Ex.—_It’s t’ gainest waay ti gan byv t’ wood_, i.e. ‘It is the - shortest way,’ &c. _Ther’s a gainer way ti deea’t ’an that_, - i.e. ‘There is a quicker or easier plan to do it than that.’ - - +Gainable+, _adj._ Obtainable. - - +Gain-hand+, _adj._ Easily reached. - - +Gainly+, _adv._ Easily gained, of access. - - +Gains+, _n._ An advantage. - - +Gainstrive+, +Gainstand+, _v._ To oppose. - Ex.—_Yan caan’t gainstrive owt o’ that soart. Neeabody can - gainstand thersens agaain t’ railway cump’ny._ - - +Gain-way+, _n._ A shorter path. - - +Gairn+, +Garn+, _n._ Worsted, yarn. - - +Gaitings+, _n._ Bundles of clover tied at the top and left to dry. - - +Gallac-handed+, _adj._ Left-handed. - Ex.—_Fau’k ’at’s gallac-handed’s awlus a larl bit tricky, Ah - think._ - - +Gallivant+, _v._ To flirt, to be continually in the society of - ladies. - - +Galloway+, _n._ One of a small breed of horses. - - +Gallowses+, +Gallasses+, _n._ Trouser braces. - - +Gally-bauk+, _n._ An iron bar attached to the rann’l bauk, from - which pans are hung either on or off the fire. - - +Galore+, _n._ A superabundance. - - +Gam+, _n._ 1. A game. - 2. Fun. - 3. Ridicule. - Ex.—1. _Wa’d a rare gam at creckets last neet._ - 2. _He’s a grand hand at makking gam._ - 3. _Ah thowt sha was deeaing nowt bud mak gam o’ ma._ - - +Gamashes+, _n._ Gaiters, leggings, now applied to all kind of - leg-coverings. - - +Gammer+, _v._ To waste time, to be slow. - - +Gammer-stag+ or +-stang+, _n._ An immodest female. - - +Gammish+, _adj._ Lively, full of frolic, plucky. - - +Gan+, +Gang+, _v._ To go, to go on foot. ‘Gang’ is often added to - the direction pointed out. - Ex.—_Thoo’d best tak by t’ mill gang_, i.e. ‘Go by the mill way,’ - or ‘go by the mill,’ or ‘by t’ stell gang,’ ‘up gang,’ &c. - - +Gane+, _v._ Gone. - - +Ganger+, _n._ A goer, usually applied to a horse. - Ex.—_Sha’s nut mich ov a ganger._ _That’s a good ganger_, - i.e. ‘A good goer.’ - - +Gangeril+, +Gangril+, _n._ A worthless fellow, a vagrant, a toad. - - +Gannings on+, _Vide_ +Gahins on+. - - +Gans+, _v._ Goes. - - +Gant+, _adj._ Thin, puny, half-fed. - - +Gantree+, _n._ A low wooden stand for barrels to rest on. - - +Gap+, _n._ An opening in a hedge through which sheep may stray, a - rift in the hills. - - +Gape+, +Gaape+, +Geeap+, _v._ To bawl loudly, to stand - open-mouthed. - - +Garb+, _v._ To dress vulgarly, or in tawdry finery. - - +Garfits+, _n._ Entrails. In some parts goose giblets are known as - ‘garfits.’ - - +Garland+, _v._ A white glove decorated with ribbons and carried at - funerals. _Vide_ Chap. VIII, on ‘Customs.’ - - +Garsel+, _n._ Rotten sticks, last year’s undergrowth. - - +Garth+, _n._ A small enclosure of land. - - +Gate+, +Geeat+, _n._ A way, road, street; there is also a secondary - meaning of ‘manner.’ Adverbially as ‘all gates,’ ‘onny gates.’ - Ex.—_What gate mun Ah tak ti Easby?_ i.e. ‘Which road must I take - to Easby?’ _If he gans on i’ yon gate, he’ll seean lap t’ job - up_, i.e. ‘If he goes on in that manner, he will soon end the - business.’ _Leeak at what he’s deean onny gate an’ all gates, - an’ yan’s boun ti awn he’s been a feeal all roads_, i.e. ‘Look - at what he has done any way and all ways, and one is compelled - to admit he has been a fool every way.’ _Thoo diz things all - gates an’ onny gates, an’ it’s neea gates i’ t’ end._ - - +Gate+, _n._ An acquired right or privilege of pasturage for cattle. - - +Gate+, _v._ To arrange clover in small bundles to dry. - - +Gauk+, +Gawk+, _n._ A stupid fellow, the cuckoo. - - +Gauky+, _adj._ Clumsy, idiotic. - - +Gaum+, _v._ To pay attention intelligently. - - +Gaumish+, _adj._ Intelligent. - - +Gaumless+, _adj._ Lacking intelligence. - - +Gaup+, _v._ To stare and gape with astonishment. - - +Gauve+, _v._ To stare vacantly. - - +Gauvison+, _n._ Silly of either sex. Usually applied to a female. - - +Gauvy+, _n._ A silly fellow. - - +Gavelock+, _n._ A crowbar. - - +Gay+, +Gayish+, _adj._ 1. Considerable in number. - 2. Nice, pleasing. - 3. Fairly good, both as to size, quality, and number. - Ex.—1. _Ther war a gay few fau’k gethered up. Ah gav a gayish bit - mair ’an that for ’t._ - 2. _It’s a gay bit o’ stuff._ - 3. _It’s a gayish field o’ to’nips._ - - +Gayly+, _adv._ 1. First-class. - 2. Exceedingly well as to health. - Ex.—1. _Ah’s gittin’ on gayly_, i.e. ‘first-class.’ - 2. _Sha war nobbut dowly a piece sen, but sha’s gayly noo._ - - +Gear+, +Gearing+, _n._ That part of a machine which alters the - speed of running, harness. - - +Gear+, _n._ Worldly possessions, raiment. - - +Geb+, _Vide_ +Gib+. - - +Geck+, _n._ A stupid oaf. _Vide_ also +Goffen+. - - +Geean+, _part._ Gone. - - +Geeaping+, _pp._ Gaping, staring. - - +Gecken+, _v._ _Vide_ +Goffen+. - - +Gee+, _v._ The wagoner’s command for the horse to take the - right-hand side of the road. - - +Geen+, +Gi’en+, +Gi’n+, _v._ Given. - - +Geld+, _adj._ and _n._ Barren; single unmated birds, as of - partridges. - - +Gell+, _n._ Girl. - - +Gen+, +Girn+, _v._ To grin. - - +Genning+, _adj._, also _part._ of _Gen_. 1. To grin. - 2. To find fault. - Ex.—1. _Thoo genning munkey, Ah’ll gi’e tha summat ti gen at if - thoo dizn’t shift thisel._ - 2. _Sha’s awlus genning an’ fliting at yan._ - - +Gep+, _v._ To eavesdrop. - - +Ger+, _v._ To get, go. - Ex.—_Ger ho’d on ’t._ - - +Gert+, +Gret+, +Greeat+, _adj._ Great. - - +Gesling+, _n._ Gosling. - - +Gess+, +Gerse+, _n._ Grass. - - +Geesing-land+, +Gersing-land+, _n._ Grass-land. - - +Get+, _v._ Beside being used in the ordinary sense there are - several curious usages. 1. To get to. - 2. Is called. - 3. To come. - Ex.—1. _Ah aim ti gan ti Brotton when Ah git to Boosbeck._ - 2. _T’ chap ’at ’ed it afoor called it Jack, bud it awlus gits - Flip wiv uz._ - 3. _Wa thowt ya warn’t gahin’ ti mannish ti get._ - - +Get, Able to+, _Vide_ +Yabble+. - - +Get agate+, _v._ To commence. - - +Get away with, To+, _v._ To push forward work. - Ex.—_Noo ’at t’ wood’s cum’d wa s’all be yabble ti git awaay wi’ - t’ job at yance._ - - +Get on+, _v._ To succeed. - Ex.—_He’s sartin ti git on, is yon chap._ - - +Get the length of+, _v._ To get as far as, either of place, - distance, or work. - - +Getherer+ or +Gedderer+, _n._ A collector of taxes, one who gathers - the corn into bundles. - - +Gether+ or +Gedder up, To+, _v._ To collect together. - - +Getten+, +Gitten+, +Gotten+, _part._ To get. - - +Gew-gaws+, _n._ Jewellery, &c. - - +Gew-gow+, _n._ A Jew’s harp. - - +Gib+, _n._ The hooked handle of a stick. - - +Gib-+ or +Geb-stick+, _n._ A hooked stick. - - +Gicken+, _Vide_ +Goffen+. - - +Gi’en+, _Vide_ +Geen+. - - +Giglet+, _n._ A giggling girl. - - +Gilder+, _n._ A horsehair snare. - - +Gilevat+, _n._ The vat or tub in which ale is stood to ferment. - - +Gill+, _n._ A half-pint. - - +Gill+, _n._ A narrow rock valley, a ravine. - - +Gillifer+, _n._ An immodest woman; one who pretends to good looks, - or dresses younger than her years. - - +Gilt+, _n._ A young sow. - - +Gimmal+, _n._ A narrow passage between two houses. - - +Gimmer+, _n._ A young female lamb. - - +Ginger-heead+, _adj._ and _n._ One having red hair. - - +Gingerly+, _adv._ Cautiously, ticklish to do. - - +Ginnel+, _Vide_ +Runnel+. - - +Ginner+, _adv._ Rather, quite as soon as. - Ex.—_Ah’d ez ginner gan ez stop._ - - +Girt+, _adj._ Great. _Vide_ +Gert+. - - +Girt shakes, Neea+, Nothing to boast of. - - +Gissy-gissy+, _n._ The call for the young pigs to be fed. - - +Git+, _Vide_ +Get+. - - +Give+, _v._ To stretch, to give way, to yield to force, to thaw. - - +Give agaan+, _v._ To thaw, to return something when bargaining for - luck. - - +Give back+, _v._ To recede, to yield through lack of courage. - - +Give in+, _v._ To tender an estimate, to give notice to a landlord - of intention to quit his farm or house, to admit being - vanquished. - - +Give out+, _v._ To fail in supply. - - +Give ower+, _v._ Leave off, desist, cease. - Ex.—_Gi’e ower at yance_, i.e. ‘Cease at once.’ - - +Gizzen+, _n._ The gizzard. - - +Glazzen+, _v._ 1. To glaze a window. - 2. Become glassy. - Ex.—2. _It’ll seean be deead, its een ’s glazzen’d noo._ - - +Glease+, +Gleeaze+, _v._ To run swiftly. - - +Gleasing+, _n._ A race after, the cost of a suit at law. - - +Gleen+, _v._ To shine. - - +Gleg+, _v._ To peep slyly, to cast one’s eyes about furtively. - - +Glent+, _v._ To glance off at an angle. - - +Gliff+, +Glift+, _n._ A passing glance, a glimpse. - - +Gloaming+, _n._ Twilight. - - +Gloor+, +Gloar+, _v._ To stare intently. - - +Glorr+, _n._ Soft, fat. - - +Glow+, _Vide_ +Low+. - - +Glump+, _v._ To sulk. - - +Glumpy+, _adj._ Sulky. - Ex.—_If he’s glumpy, let him glump._ - - +Glut+, _n._ A wooden wedge used to split timber with. - - +Gnag+, _v._ To weary one with reproaches, to continually assail - one with remarks of an irritating nature. - - +Gnaggy+, _adj._ Bad tempered, continually scolding. - - +Gnarl+, _v._ To gnaw, as rabbits do trees during a hard winter. - - +Gnarr+, _Vide_ +Knar+. - - +Gnarr+, _v._ To growl. - - +Gnatter+, _v._ To find fault of a petty nature continuously. - - +Gnattering+, +Nattering+, _adj._ Fault-finding on all occasions. - Ex.—_Oh, sha’s a gnattering au’d thing, sha’s nivver off his - beeans._ - - +Gnipe+, _Vide_ +Knep+. - - +Go+ or +Goa+, _n._ 1. Attempt, try. - 2. Event, circumstance. - Ex.—1. _Cum by, an’ let me ’ev a go at it. He fetched yan doon - fust go. All t’ three on uz ’ed a go, bud neean on uz hit it._ - 2. _Well, this is a go; it beeats ivvery go, diz this._ - - +Gob+, _n._ The mouth. - - +Gobble+, _v._ To reply in a sulky, indistinct manner. - Ex.—_Noo, git thisel oot o’ t’ glumps, an’ deean’t gobble i’ that - road when Ah ass tha owt._ - - +Gob-string+, _n._ A bridle. - - +God’s penny+, _n._ A sum of money paid by the master when hiring - a servant to bind the transaction. - - +Goffen+, +Gecken+, +Gicken+, +Geck+, _v._ To laugh like an idiot. - - +Goings on+, _Vide_ +Gahins on+. - - +Goke+, +Gowk+, +Gooak+, _n._ The core of an apple, the hard part - of a boil or ulcer; also used to denote the centre of many things, - as ’t’ gowk o’ t’ stack.’ - - +Goldens+, _n._ The charred stems of burnt ling. - - +Goldie+, _n._ The yellow-hammer. - - +Golly+, _n._ A newly-hatched bird. - - +Gomerill+, _n._ A born idiot. - - +Gone away+, _Vide_ +Fallen away+. - - +Good+, _adj._ 1. Considerable. - 2. Easy. - 3. Well. - 4. Almost. - 5. Kind, obliging. - Ex.—1. _Whya, noo, ther war a good few on ’em._ - 2. _That’s good eneeaf ti deea._ - 3. _Yan mud ez good talk tiv a yat-post ez yon lad._ - 4. _Ah’ve ez good ez deean noo._ - 5. _Ya’ll mebbe be seea good ez ti fetch ma a bit o’ bacca back - wi’ ya?_ - - +Good+, _adv._ Altogether, entirely. - Ex.—_Wa’d gi’en ya up foor good, wa thowt ya warn’t gahin’ ti - mannish to get._ - - +Goodies+, _n._ Sweetmeats. - - +Good-like+, _adj._ Of pleasing appearance. - - +Goodman+, _n._ The husband. - - +Good riddance+, Lit. Very pleased you have gone away. - - +Good-stuff+, _n._ Sweets. - - +Good-woman+, _n._ The wife. - - +Goose-+ or +Geeasegogs+, _n._ Gooseberry. - - +Gorpie+, _n._ _Vide_ +Golly+. - - +Gossamer+, _n._ Fine cobwebs found during dry weather, either on - the herbage or floating in the air. _Vide_ +Musweb+. - - +Gote+, _n._ A narrow passage often running between two rows of - houses, a rent in rocks sufficiently wide to admit the passage - of one man at a time, a natural narrow ravine. A mill-race is - often called a ‘mill-gote.’ - - +Goupen+, _n._ A handful. - - +Goupenful+, _n._ A double handful. - - +Gowden+, _adj._ Golden. The ‘ow’ is pronounced as in ‘show.’ - - +Gowk+, _n._ A fool, a clumsy fellow. - - +Gowky+, _adj._ Clumsy. - Ex.—_A gret gowky good ti nowt._ - - +Gowland+, _n._ The corn marigold. - - +Grace+, _n._ Advantage, benefit. - Ex.—_Ther weean’t be mich grace i’ deeaing a thing leyke that._ - - +Graft+ or +Graff+, _n._ A spade depth. - - +Grain+, _v._ To grumble. - - +Graining+, _n._ The fork, the division into branches. - - +Grains+, _n._ Branches. - - +Graithing+, _n._ Clothes. - - +Grapplement+, _n._ A grasping in a struggle. - - +Grass widdy+, _n._ An immoral woman. - - +Grave+, _v._ To dig. - - +Grawn up+, _adj._ Grown up, adult. - - +Greean+, +Girn+, +Gairn+, _v._ To groan, as when lifting a heavy - weight. - Ex.—_Thee lift, an’ Ah’ll deea t’ gerning._ - - +Gree+, _v._ To agree, to assent. - - +Greease-horn+, _n._ A toady, a sycophant. - - +Greease in+, _v._ To win over by flattery. - - +Greed+, _n._ Avarice. - - +Greet+, _v._ To weep silently. - - +Grenky+, _adj._ Complaining, unwell, irritable. - - +Gret+, _Vide_ +Gert+. - - +Gret end+, _adv._ Almost. - Ex.—_Ther’ll be t’ gret end o’ fowr scoore. Whya, Ah gav’ t’ gret - end o’ twenty pun for ’t._ - - +Gret likelihood+, Almost a certainty. - Ex.—_Tha’ve been keeping cump’ny foor sum tahm, ther’s gret - likelihood ’at tha’ll be gittin’ wed afoor lang._ - - +Griff+, _n._ A small ravine. - - +Grime+, +Grahm+, _n._ Soot. - - +Grime+, +Grahm+, _v._ To black with soot. - - +Grime ower+, _v._ To spread a light covering of dust or other - light matter. - - +Griming+, _n._ A light covering of snow. - - +Grip+, _n._ A narrow trench. - - +Gripe+, _n._ A pronged fork for digging. - - +Grip ho’d+, _n._ A handle. _v._ To take hold of firmly. - - +Grissy+, _adj._ Damp and warm, of the weather. - - +Grob+, _n._ An undersized, badly-built man. - - +Grob+, _v._ To search with the hand under conditions where the - eyes cannot assist. - - +Grobble+, _v._ To grope, to search for with a stick or hand, as - under a stone for fish. - Ex.—_Ah’s grobbling unner t’ steean foor a treeat_, i.e. trout. - - +Gross+, +Grossy+, _adj._ Rapid growth, plants too close together, - fat. - - +Growt-heead+, _n._ A blockhead. - - +Grozy+, _adj._ Well-to-do. - - +Grue+, _adj._ Sullen, lowering, dismal, also applied to discontent - freely expressed. - - +Gruff+, _adj._ Brusque. - - +Gruff+, _v._ To express dissatisfaction, to grunt, to snort in - temper, to snore. - - +Grump+, _v._ To sulk. - - +Grumps+, _n._ _Vide_ +Brully+. - - +Grumpy+, _adj._ Bad tempered, sulky. - - +Grund+, _n._ Ground. - - +Grundage+, _n._ Ground rent. - - +Grun’lstan+, +Grunstan+, _n._ Grindstone. - - +Gruntle+, _v._ To give low grunting sounds of discontent. - - +Grutch+, _v._ To envy, to grudge. - Ex.—_Ther’s nowt ’at he dizn’t grutch yan. He mud ’ev ’ed t’ - tweea pigs, bud Ah did grutch him t’ coo._ - - +Gulch+, _v._ To swallow like a dog. - Ex.—_Thoo gulches thi puddin’ doon warse ’an a dog._ - - +Gumption+, _n._ Tact, general capability. - Ex.—_He’ll nowther fick na fend, foor he wants baith mense an’ - gumption._ - - +Gush+, _n._ A rush of air, a gust. - - +Gutter+, _v._ To waste, as a candle in a draught. - Ex.—_Put t’ deear teea, t’ cann’l’s sweealing an’ guttering - awaay leyke all that._ - - +Gutter eaves+, _n._ The gutter which carries the water from off - the roof. - - - H. - - +Hack+, _n._ A small pickaxe. - - +Hackle+, _n._ The natural covering of an animal, or the clothes - of man. - - +Hackle+, _v._ 1. To dress, to put on one’s best attire, to make - smart. - 2. To turn the soil lightly. - Ex.—1. _Sha’s hackled hersel wiv all t’ gew-gaws ’at sha’s - gitten._ - 2. _Thoo mun just hackle aboot t’ reeats._ - - +Had away+, A corruption of the Scotch ‘haud awa.’ It is quite - common, and used in the sense of ‘come or go quickly.’ - - +Haffle+, _v._ 1. To hesitate when speaking, to stammer, to appear - desirous of keeping something back. - 2. To exhibit indecision of character. - 3. To quibble. - Ex.—1. _Deean’t haffle leyke that, bud speeak plain._ - 2. _Naay, what! he’s lost t’ job, he haffled seea; fust he wad - an’ then he wadn’t, whahl t’ gaffer gav it ti sumbody else._ - 3. _He awlus haffles on that mich, whahl neeabody ho’ds ti owt - he sez._ - - +Hag+, _n._ A thick white fog which, when followed by a frost, - forms frost-hag; a coppice, such as often grows on a rough bank - or broken ground; a broken rugged bank. - - +Hag-berry+, _n._ The fruit of the bird-cherry (_Prunus padus_). - NOTE.—In many parts of the North Riding Bug-berry is the common - name, _bägg_ being the Swedish for the same. - - +Hag-clog+, _n._ A wooden block, varying in size, used as a - chopping block. - - +Haggle+, _v._ To chop or cut anything unevenly, to tease, to beat - down in a bargain, to argue in a contentious spirit. - - +Haggy+, _adj._ Rough, boggy, always applied to land. - - +Hag snars+, _n._ The stubs left standing after the chopping down - of young trees. - - +Hag-worm+, _n._ The viper or adder (_Pelias berus_). The name is - never applied to the blind-worm. - - +Hair-breed+, _n._ 1. By little and little. - 2. Slow degrees. - 3. The narrowest margin. - Ex.—1. _Wa’re bodduming what tha did byv hair-breeds_, i.e. ‘We - are finding out what they did little by little.’ - 2. _Willie mends, bud it’s nobbut byv hair-breeds._ - 3. _He ’scaped wiv his leyfe, bud it war nobbut byv a hair-breed_, - lit. ‘A hair’s breadth.’ - - +Hairy-worm+, _n._ Any caterpillar of a hairy kind. - - +Hake+, _n._ An importunate beggar, not necessarily a pauper; a - greedy, grasping person. - - +Hake+, _v._ To be pertinacious, to weary with importunities. - - +Hale+, _v._ To empty a vessel by inclining it to one side. - - +Hales+, _n._ The handles of a plough. - - +Half-marrow+, _n._ One considered as but a youth at his calling, - half-grown. - - +Half nowt+, Beneath consideration, either as to money or character. - Ex.—_Ah gat it foor hauf nowt. Its nobbut a hauf-nowt when it’s - deean. T’ father’s i’ prison an’ t’ lad’s a hauf nowt._ - - +Half-rocked+ or +-baked+, _adj._ Half-witted, foolish. - Ex.—_He knaws nowt, he’s nobbut hauf-rocked. It’s nobbut a - hauf-rocked thing foor onnybody ti deea._ - - +Hallock+, _v._ To wander aimlessly about. - Ex.—_If he isn’t risting up agaain a wall, he’ll be hallocking_ - _sumwheear. If thoo aims ’at hallocking aboot ’ll finnd tha a - job, thoo’s grandly mista’en._ - - +Hames+, +Heeams+, _n._ That part of a horse’s collar to which the - traces are fixed. - - +Hammer+, _v._ To stammer. - - +Hampered+, _adj._ 1. Hindered by difficulties. - 2. Overrun by vermin or insects. - Ex.—1. _Ah’ve been hampered wi’ all maks an’ manders o’ things._ - 2. _T’ farm’s fairly hampered wi’ rabbits an’ rats._ - 3. _Them to’nips leeak a bit hampered wi’ t’ fly._ - - +Ham-sam+, _v._ To pack or hurriedly put away things anyhow so as - to get them out of sight, to throw together anyhow. - - +Ham-shackle+, _v._ To tie the head to one of the fore feet to - prevent driven cattle from running away. - - +Hanch at+, _v._ An attempt to bite from behind. - - +Hand, To bear at+. _v._ 1. To blame. - 2. To blame with a feeling of resentment. - Ex.—1. _Ah beear him at hand foor all sha knows aboot what wa - did at Sally’s._ - 2. _It war nowt bud a dirty trick, an’ Ah s’all awlus beear him - at hand for ’t._ - - +Hand-clowt+, +Han’-cloot+, _n._ A towel. - - +Hand-ho’d+, _n._ That which admits of being firmly gripped, the - act of gripping. - Ex.—_It ’ez a good hand-ho’d ti ’t. Ah gat a good hand-ho’d, an’ - Ah nivver let go._ - - +Handle+, +Hann’l+, _v._ 1. To treat. - 2. To manage. - Ex.—1. _Tha hann’ld t’ lad varry badly._ - 2. _Sha’s varra kittlish an’ bad ti hann’l._ - - +Hand-running+, _adv._ In regular succession. - Ex.—_He’s ta’en fowr prizes han’-running._ - - +Handsel+, +Han’sel+, _n._ and _v._ 1. The money received on or - before the commencement of any work so as to make the agreement - binding. - 2. To give something on using a thing for the first time. - 3. The act of using a thing for the first time. - Ex.—1. _Ah’ll pay tha summat noo ti han’sel t’ job._ - 2. _Whya, thoo’ll be leyke ti han’sel t’ new hoss, wa s’ want a - glass apiece._ - 3. _Ah’ve han’sel’d t’ new reaper ti-daay._ - - +Hand-staff+, _n._ The handle of a flail. - - +Hand-turn+, _n._ A small amount of work. - Ex.—_Sha’s that lazy ’at sha weean’t deea a hand-to’n foor hersen, - let aleean foor onnybody else._ - - +Handy+, _adj._ 1. Skilful, apt, clever with one’s hands. - 2. Useful, just the very thing needed. - Ex.—1. _He’s a varra handy chap._ - 2. _It’s yan o’ t’ maist handy things ’at Ah’ve ivver clap’t my - een on._ - - +Hang-dog+, _adj._ Sullen. - Ex.—_Deean’t gan aboot wiv a hang-dog leeak o’ thi feeace leyke - that._ - - +Hang-dog+, _n._ A worthless fellow. - - +Hangedly+, _adv._ Without heart, despondent. - - +Hank+, _n._ A latchet or loop of band or rope used to secure a - gate; a skein of wool or string, &c. - - +Hank+, _v._ To hang the bridle to a hook, gate, &c.; to fasten, - as a gate. - - +Hank, To get things in a+ = To get one’s circumstances involved. - - +Hankle+, +Henkle+, _v._ 1. To become entangled. - 2. To greatly desire, used in a very wide sense. - Ex.—1. _Ah’ve gitten t’ kite band sadly hankled_, i.e. entangled. - _He’s gitten hankled on wi’ yon chap, an’ he’ll deea him neea good. - Ah weean’t be hankled on wi’ neea sike leyke carryings on_, - i.e. mixed up with. - 2. _Ah awlus hed a hankling foor Tom’s meer. Neea, wa didn’t - bargain, bud Ah’ve a gert hankling foor ’t._ - - +Hant+, _v._ To frequent. - Ex.—_He fairly hants t’ hoos sen Polly cam._ - - +Hanted+, _v._ 1. Frequented by a ghost. - 2. To be always at one’s heels. - Ex.—1. _Ah wadn’t gan neear t’ pleeace at neet, tha saay it’s - hanted._ - 2. _He’s awlus sumwheear nigh at hand, Ah’s fairly hanted wi t’ - lad sen Ah gat t’ larl pony._ - - +Hap+, _v._ 1. To cover over. - 2. To wrap up. - 3. To bury. - 4. To discontinue. - 5. To happen, chance, befall. - Ex.—1. _Thoo mun hap t’ strawberries up wi’ a bit o’ streah._ - 2. _Noo ya mun hap up well, it’s a cau’d neet._ - 3. _Ah’ve just happ’d Willie’s grave up._ - 4. _Let’s hap t’ job up noo an’ saay neea mair aboot it._ - 5. _If nowt s’u’d hap ti stop ma, Ah s’ cum._ - NOTE.—Lap is often used instead of ‘hap’ in 2 and 4. - - +Happen+, _v._ 1. Possibly. - 2. To meet with. - 3. Perhaps. - Ex.—1. _Will ta cum? Happen Ah maay._ - 2. _He’s happen’d a bad accident._ - 3. _Ass him, an’ happen he’ll gi’e tha ’t._ - - +Happing+, _n._ Covering of any kind, usually bed-clothes. - - +Haps+, _n._ Any covering which may be used over the ordinary - clothes. - Ex.—_‘A’e ya browt plenty o’ haps wi’ ya?_ meaning topcoats, - jackets, rugs, &c. - - +Harbour+, _n._ Shelter, lodging. - Ex.—_Wa mun finnd a harbour sumwhere whahl t’ shooer’s ower’d. - Seea lang ez it’s cleean Ah deean’t mahnd, bud Ah mun ’ev a - harbour foor t’ neet._ - - +Harbour+, _v._ To shelter, to hide, generally used in a derogatory - sense. - Ex.—_Sha’s neeawaays neyce whaw sha harbours_, i. e. ‘She is not - particular what kind of people she takes in, shelters, or lets - her rooms to.’ _Tha’d harbour t’ devil if tha thowt tha c’u’d - mak owt byv it._ - - +Hard+, _adj._ Sour, said of beer; difficult to do or manage, close, - much. - Ex.—_He’s a hard un ti bargain wi’. It ficked that hard, whahl - Ah c’u’dn’t ho’d it_, i. e. much. _He awlus drahves a hard - bargain_, i. e. close. _It’s ommaist neea ewse assing him; he - said he wadn’t, an’ he’s hard ti to’n._ - - +Hard eneeaf+, _adv._ Without doubt, certainly, of a truth. - Ex.—_Ah’ll deea ’t, hard eneeaf. He’ll tell tha what he thinks, - hard eneeaf._ - - +Hard, To look+, _v._ To pay great attention, to observe closely. - Ex.—_Thoo mun leeak hard at it, an’ then thoo’ll seean git thi - task off. Ah hed ti leeak hard at him afoor Ah kenn’d whaw it - war._ - - +Harden+, _v._ 1. To bring oneself to do a thing. - 2. To clear up after rain. - Ex.—1. _Ah deean’t leyke t’ job, bud Ah s’all ’a’e ti harden - mysel ti ’t._ - 2. _It’s neea ewse to’ning t’ hay, whahl it hardens up a bit._ - - +Harden-feeaced+, _adj._ Threatening, lowering—of the sky or weather. - - +Harding+, _n._ A coarse kind of material for making aprons or - wrappers of. - - +Hardlings+, _adv._ Not quite, scarcely. - - +Hard o’ hearing+, _adj._ More or less deaf. - - +Hardset+, _adv._ With difficulty able. - Ex.—_Sha’s hardset ti mak ends meet. Ah wur hardset ti git t’ job - deean i’ tahm._ - - +Hark back, To+, _Vide_ +Harp+. - - +Hark ya+, _intj._ Hear you! listen! - - +Harled+, _adj._ Mottled. - - +Harn+, _n._ _Vide_ +Harding+. - - +Harp+, _v._ To continually refer to some annoying circumstance, - some mistake, or disgrace. - Ex.—_Sha nivver lets t’ thing dee, sha’s awlus harping on aboot - it._ - - +Harr+, _n._ A thick fog inclining to rain. - - +Harrish+, _n._ Worry, annoyance, trouble. - Ex.—_It’s a bit of a harrish, bud then wa s’ git ower ’t sumhoo._ - - +Harrish+, _v._ To be worried owing to some misadventure, - distressed through not knowing how some undertaking may turn out. - - +Harrow, To trail a light+ = To have a small family, to have few - worries or difficulties. - - +Hartree+, _n._ The tail-piece of a gate. - - +Harv+, _v._ The word for a horse to turn to the left hand. - - +Hasky+, +Hask+, _adj._ Dry, rough, coarse. - - +Hat up, To hang one’s+ = To be quite at home, welcome. - Ex.—_Ah can hang mah hat up yonder when Ah’ve a mahnd teea._ - - +Hatter+, _v._ To mix or confuse things, to knot, to throw in - disorder. _See also_ +Hotter+. - - +Hause+, _n._ The throat or neck. - - +Hauve+, _v._ To stare stupidly. - - +Hauvey-gauvey+, _n._ A stupid fellow, a lout. - - +Hauvish+, _adj._ Lacking common sense, stupid. - - +Havver+, _n._ Oats; hence +Havver-cake+. - - +Havver-meal+, _n._ Oatmeal. - - +Hay-bauks+, _n._ Poles or sticks so arranged to hold hay for - cattle to feed from. - - +Hay-bay+, _n._ A wild uproar. - - +Hay-chat+, _n._ The whitethroat. - - +Hasel+, _Vide_ +Hezzle+. - - +Hazled+, _adj._ An intermixture of red and white hairs. When the - red preponderate, the beast is dark hazled; when white, vice - versa. Often designated roan or roaned. - - +Head+, _n._ The upper part of a dale. - - +Head-gear+, _n._ 1. The blinders and bit, &c. - 2. Head-dress. - 3. Good sense, brain power. - Ex.—1. _He’s putten t’ heead-gear on afoor t’ barfan._ - 2. _Did ti notish her heead-gear? It wur grand._ - 3. _Ez far ez a bit o’ heead-geear gans, he’s ez sharp ez onny - on ’em._ - - +Head-rigg+, _n._ That part of a field on which the horses and - plough are turned about. - - +Head screwed on the right way+, Knowing what is best to be done, - sensible, having good judgement. - - +Head-stall+, _n._ A halter, usually made of hemp. - - +Head-tire+, _n._ Head-dress. - - +Heap+, _n._ In measure a quarter of a peck. - - +Heart-brussen+ or +Brussen-hearted+, _adj._ Heart-broken. - - +Heart-bun+, +Heart-grown+, _adj._ Strongly attached to a place; - also having a great desire to accomplish something in the future. - - +Heart-eased+, _adj._ Freed from pain or distress. - - +Hearten+, _v._ To encourage, to give hope. - - +Heart-sick+, _adj._ Without hope, despondent. - - +Heart, Soft at+ } _adj._ Easily appeased, kindly disposed. - +Heart, Warm at+ } - - +Heart-whole+, _adj._ 1. True-hearted. - 2. Fancy-free. - Ex.—_Tak him all ends up he’s a heart-w’oll, canny chap. Ah’s - heart-w’oll yet; ther’s nowt aboot here ’at’s ta’en mah fancy_, - i. e. not in love. - - +Heave+, _v._ To scatter corn, to winnow it. - - +Heave and throw+, To retch and vomit. - - +Heave up+, _v._ To retch. - - +Heck+, _n._ The upper part, containing the latch, of a door made - in two parts. A rack for fodder; hence Stand-heck. - - +Heckling+, _n._ Being much questioned whilst being scolded. - - +Heckling+, _v._ To pester with many pertinent and impertinent - questions. - - +Hedge-dike+, _n._ A bank with a hedge on it, forming a fence. - - +Hedge-dike-side+, _n._ The part of the hedge-bank on the - water-channel side. - - +Heead-wark+, _n._ Headache. - - +Heeaf+, _n._ and _v._ Home, an abode; to abide. - - +Heeak+, _v._ To loiter, to hang about with intent to eavesdrop. - - +Heeal, Yal+, _adj._ Whole. - - +Heeam, Yam+, _n._ Home. Also pronounced Whoam. - - +Heeat, Yat+. Pronunciations of Hot. - - +Heed+, _v._ To concern oneself, to mind, to pay proper and - thoughtful attention to. - Ex.—_Ah deean’t heed mich ov ’at he sez. Nivver heed, cum on. He - nivver heeds what onnybody sez._ - - +Heegh+, High. - - +Heeze+, _v._ To breathe hoarsely. - - +Heeze+, _n._ A disease incident to pigs, and when so afflicted - they breathe with difficulty. - - +Heezy+, _adj._ Wheezing, hoarse. - - +Heft+, _v._ To fit a handle to. - - +Heft+, _n._ 1. A handle. - 2. Not all, only part. - Ex.—1. _T’ knife’s gitten a grand heft tul ’t._ - 2. _Thoo’s nobbut gitten a heft on ’t, sha’s kept t’ main on ’t - back._ - - +Heigh-how+, _v._ To yawn. - - +Held+, _v._ 1. A condition of finance. - 2. Inclination. - Ex.—1. _Ah’d ’a’e lent tha t’ brass leyke all that, bud Ah’s - badly held mysel just noo._ - 2. _Ah war gretly held i’ t’ seeam waay_, i. e. ‘I was greatly - inclined the same way.’ - - +Helm+, +Hellum+, _n._ A rough shed or shelter away from the farm - buildings. - - +Helter+, _n._ A halter. - - +Helter-skelter+, _n._ A wild rush of people or animals. - Ex.—_When he seed ma he went helter-skelter doon t’ lonnin’ - leyke a scopperil._ - - +Hemmel+, _n._ The handrail of a wooden bridge. - - +Hempy+, _adj._ Mischievous, even to breaking the law, malicious. - - +Hen-bauk+, _n._ The beam for fowls to roost on. - - +Henkle+, _Vide_ +Hankle+. - - +Hennet+ = Have not. Should be written ‘’ae‘ nut.’ - - +Henpen+, _n._ The manure of fowls. - - +Hen-scrats+, +Hen-scrattings+, _n._ Light, streaky, fleecy clouds, - often called +Fillytails+. - - +Heron-sew+, _n._ The heron. - - +Heap+, _n._ The catch which fastens gates, doors, &c. - - +Hezzle+, +Hezzling+, +Heshing+, _v._ To beat, to thrash soundly. - - +Hide+, _v._ To flog, to chastise. - - +Hig+, _n._ Offence taken of a petty nature, to be offended for the - time being. - Ex.—_Tak neea notish, sha’s nobbut ta’en t’ hig._ - - +High-larn’d+, _adj._ Highly educated. - - +High up+, _adj._ A good position in society, rank, or office. - - +Hind+, _n._ The head farm servant, who is hired by the year, and - has a house provided rent free, with sundry other perquisites; a - sort of bailiff, in fact, but of a lower degree. - - +Hinder-ends+, _n._ The poorer corn left after threshing. - - +Hing+, +Heng+, _v._ 1. To hang. - 2. To cling. - 3. To continue. - Ex.—1. _Hing thi coaat up._ - 2. _He’s treated her warse ’an a dog, bud sha still hings tiv him._ - 3. _If t’ droot hings on, to’nips’ll be ti neea good ti year._ - - +Hing for rain, To+, A common phrase used when rain is more than - probable. - - +Hipe+, _v._ To push with the horns, to make grimaces. - - +Hiper+, _n._ A mimic. - - +Hipping-steeans+, _n._ Stepping-stones. - - +Hippings+, _n._ Baby’s napkins. - - +Hipple+, _n._ A small bundle of half-dried hay. - - +Hiring penny+, _n._ A sum of money, generally half a crown, paid - as earnest money by a master on hiring his farm servant. - - +Hirings+, _n._ A statute fair, at which servants are hired. - - +Hirp+, +Hirple+, _v._ To stick the back up with cold. - - +Hiss+, _Vide_ +Siss+. - - +Hissel+, +Hissen+, _pro._ Himself. - - +Hitch+, _v._ To hop. - - +Hitch, strahd, an’ jump+ or +loup+. Hop, stride, and jump. - - +Hoavish+, _adj._ Stupid, idiotic. - - +Hobman+, The name of an elf-man, at one time very generally - believed in, doubtless akin to, if not the same as, Danish - _Nisses_. Each elf-man or hobman had his habitation, to which he - gave his name, as Hob Hill, Upleatham, Hob Green, near Ripon, Hob - o’ t’ rush Rook, on the Farndale moors, &c. There must have been - both kindly natured and malicious hobmen, as stories are - plentiful in proof of both. - - +Hobble+, _v._ To move along with difficulty or from age. - - +Hobble+, _n._ Trouble, perplexity. - Ex.—_Throw what Ah’ve tell’d Bob Ah’ve gitten mysel intiv a gret - hobble. He’s tell’d what Ah sed, an’ sha’s letten oot what he sed, - an’ noo wa’re all iv a hobble tigither._ - - +Ho’d+, _v._ 1. To hold. - 2. To keep. - 3. To maintain. - 4. To keep in employment. - 5. To remain with. - Ex.—1. _Thoo mun ho’d fast._ - 2. _Thoo mun ho’d ti what thoo’s sed. If t’ daay ho’ds fair wa - s’all git wer hay._ - 3. _Ah ho’d ’at he’s i’ t’ wrang._ - 4. _T’ job at t’ chuch ’ll ho’d him foor long eneeaf._ - 5. _He’s laam’d foor leyfe; ’t’ll ho’d him ti t’ end ov his - daays._ - - +Ho’d+, _n._ 1. Possession. - 2. Tenure. - Ex.—1. _When he gits ho’d he’ll keep ho’d._ - 2. _If thoo dizn’t mak thi ho’d paay thoo owt._ - - +Ho’d fair+, _v._ To keep fair. - - +Ho’d off+, _v._ To hold off, to keep off. - Ex.—_Ah think t’ rain’s gahin’ ti ho’d off. If he can nobbut - ho’d off fra drinkin’ he’ll cum roond._ - - +Ho’d on+, _v._ 1. To retain one’s grip. - 2. Also used in the sense of to stop, wait a moment. - Ex.—1. _Ho’d on tiv its heead, Ah’s cummin’._ - 2. _Ho’d on a bit, deean’t thoo slavver on seea fast_, - i.e. ‘Wait a moment, don’t you talk so fast.’ - - +Ho’d talk+, _v._ To gossip, also as a noun. - Ex.—_Sha’ll ho’d talk wi’ onnybody; aye, sha’s a champion at - ho’ding talk._ - - +Ho’d teea+, _v._ To agree to, to carry out, to uphold. - - +Ho’d up+, _v._ To keep one’s head up, to fight against despondency. - Ex.—_Noo deean’t gi’e waay, thoo mun ho’d up; things isn’t seea - bad, noo ho’d up._ - - +Ho’d wi’+, _v._ To agree with. - Ex.—_Whya noo, Ah ho’d wi’ t’ main o’ what thoo sez._ - - +Hoffle+, _Vide_ +Hobble+. - - +Hog+, _n._ A male pig, a sheep of a year old. - - +Hoidle+, _v._ To idle. - - +Hoit+, _v._ To act like a fool. _n._ A fool. - - +Hoity-toity+, _intj._ An exclamation of surprise, carrying with - it slight indignation. _adj._ Somewhat ruffled in temper. - - +Holl+, _n._ A narrow deep depression in the face of the land, - varying in length, but never extensive; the dead of night. - - +Hollin+, _n._ The holly. - - +Holm+, _n._ Land by the side of a stream, low-lying and subject - to being flooded. - - +Holy+ or +Lemmel steean+, _n._ Any water-rolled stone of small - size having a hole through, once valued as a charm against - witches. - - +Home-coming+, _n._ The return home of an absent one, the - festivities on such an occasion after a wedding or long absence. - - +Honey+, A term of endearment, often preceded or followed by some - other word to add greater force. Little conception can be formed - of the love and tenderness which is thrown into and expressed by - this word; it must be heard as coming from a mother’s lips. - Ex.—‘_Oh, mah sweet honey bairn!_’ said as a mother picked up a - fallen child. ‘_Thoo little honey!_’ as the baby was clasped - to its mother’s breast. ‘_Gan thi ways, honey dear; Cu’ thi - ways, mah honey pet_,’ &c. - - +Honey-fall+, _n._ A piece of rare luck, money left from some - unexpected quarter. - - +Honeysouk+, _n._ Honeysuckle. - - +Hoo+, _adv._ How. - - +Hood-end+, _n._ The flat portion found on either side of old-style - fire grates, upon which a kettle or pan may be placed. - - +Hoos+, _n._ House. _Vide_ +House+. - - +Hooze+, _Vide_ +Heeze+. - - +Hopper+, _n._ The basket or skep containing the seed corn when - sowing, usually suspended by a strap over the shoulders. - - +Hopple+, _v._ 1. To tie the legs of an animal so as to prevent - its running away. - 2. To hinder. - Ex.—2. _It’s neea ewse his endivering when he’s hoppled wiv a - weyfe leyke yon; sha’s nowt bud a clog tiv his foot_, i.e. ‘It - is no use his striving when he is hindered or tied to a wife like - that; she is nothing but a drag on him.’ - - +Hork+, _v._ To trail about. - - +Horry+, _v._ To hurry. - - +Horse-gogs+ or +Hoss-gogs+, _n._ A common, astringent, purple - brown plum. - - +Hoss-steean+, +Hoss-block+, +Hossin’-steps+, _n._ A stone or - steps used to stand upon when about to mount a horse. - - +Hosses together, They deean’t put ther+ = Not friendly. - - +Hoss-teng+, _n._ The common dragon-fly. - - +Hoss-trod+, _n._ A bridle-road. - - +Hostle+, _v._ To put up at an inn. ‘Hostle’ is only used in - connexion with an inn. We ‘put up’ and ‘hostle’ at an inn, and - ‘lowse out’ at a friend’s. - Ex.—_Ah can lowse oot at thi pleeace, caan’t Ah?_ or _Ah’ll put - up at t’ Black Swan. Ah hostles at t’ Blew Pig._ - - +Ho’t+, Pronunciation of +Hurt+. - - +Hotch+, _v._ To botch, to bungle. - - +Hotch+, _n._ A mismanaged affair. - - +Hot-pots+, +Heeat-+ or +Yat-pots+, _n._ _Vide_ ‘Wedding Customs.’ - - +Hotter+, _v._ To jolt, to bump as in a cart over a stony road. - - +Hottery+, _adj._ Broken, rough, uneven road. - - +Houe+, _n._ A hill of considerable size: Houe Hill, near Ripon. - A tumulus. - - +Houl+, _n._ _Vide_ +Holl+. - - +Hound+, _v._ 1. To incite. - 2. To give an opportunity. - Ex.—1. _Them ’at hounded him on war t’ fo’st ti bleeam him._ - 2. _Neeabody’s hounded him on mair ’an what Ah ’ev, an’ yet he - wadn’t stick up tul him._ - - +House+, _n._, pron. _hoos_. With our country folk, ‘hoos’ is not - the whole building, but the one room in which the family usually - dwell; the other rooms are spoken of as the parlour, back room, - and the chambers, &c. - Ex.—_Deean’t set it doon i’ t’ hoos, tak it inti t’ parlour._ - - +House-fast+, _adj._ Confined to the house through illness. - - +House+ or +Hoos fau’k+ or +fooak+, _n._ The people of the house. - - +House-kept+ or +-held+, _adj._ Confined to the house owing to - some preventing cause other than illness. - - +Housin’ stuff+ or +sticks+. Household goods, furniture. - - +Hout+, _intj._ Expressing incredulity or dissent. - - +Hover+, _v._ 1. To hesitate. - 2. Inclined for. - Ex.—1. _Ah hovered a larl bit afoor Ah bowt it._ - 2. _Ah doot it’s hovering foor raain._ - - +Howk+, _v._ 1. To dig. - 2. To lift or push with some force. - Ex.—1. _Ah’ll howk t’ grund foor tha. He gat at t’ back o’ ma - an’ howk’d ma inti t’ carridge afoor Ah ken’d wheear Ah war._ - - +Howly+, _n._ A boys’ game. - - +Howse+, _v._ To bale out water, &c. - - +Howsomivver+, +Howsumivver+, +Hoosivver+, _conj._ Howsoever, - however. - - +Hubble-shoo+, _n._ An excited, noisy crowd. - - +Huckle+, _n._ The hip. - - +Huff+, _n._ Offence taken. - Ex.—_He’s ta’en huff, an’ sha’s ta’en t’ hig, an’ tha’ve baith - gitten t’ hump tigither._ - - +Huff+, _v._ To puff or swell up, as after a blow. - - +Huff’d+, _p._, _a._ Offended. - - +Huffil+, _n._ A finger-stall. - - +Hug+, _v._ To carry, whether in the arms or on the back. - - +Hugger-mugger+, _n._ Everything in disorder. - - +Huke-bone+, _Vide_ +Huckle+. - - +Huker+, _v._ To barter. - - +Hull+, _v._ To remove the pod or outer covering of peas, beans, &c. - - +Hulls+, +Hullin+, _n._ The pods or outer covering of many fruits - and grain. - - +Hummel+, _v._ To break off the awns of barley. - - +Hummel’d+, _adj._ Without horns. - - +Hummeller+, _n._ The instrument used to hummel with. - - +Humped+, _adj._ Sulky. - - +Hunger+, _v._ and _n._ 1. To suffer from the pangs of hunger. - 2. To withhold food, to provide insufficiently. - Ex.—1. _Ah war hungered past my bahdings._ - 2. _He hungers ivverything aboot t’ pleeace._ - - +Hussocks+, _n._ Coarse tufts of grass. - - +Hutter+, _Vide_ +Hotter+. - - - I. - - +I’+, _prep._ In. ‘I’’ is used before a consonant, ‘iv’ before a - vowel. - Ex.—_I’ t’ boddum o’ t’ box_, i.e. ‘In the bottom of the box.’ - _Iv all manner o’ waays._ - - +Ice-shoggles+, +Ice-shogglins+, _n._ Icicles. - - +Ickles+, _n._ Icicles. - - +If+, Is often used for ‘whether,’ _Vide_ ex. +Nither+. - - +If in case+, +If so be as how+. Redundancies for ‘+if+.’ - - +If no more+ = If not more. - - +If so be that+, _Vide_ +If in case+. - - +Ill+, _adj._ Bad, evil dispositioned or intentioned. - Ex.—_He’s queer, bud sha’s an ill un._ - - +Ill+, _n._ Harm. - Ex.—_Thoo’s warked him all t’ ill ’at ivver thoo c’u’d._ - - +Ill-deed+, _n._ Evil proceedings, ill-luck. - Ex.—_Ill-deed nivver thrives. He’s ’ed nowt bud ill-deed fra t’ - startin’._ - - +Ill-fare+, _v._ To fail through ill-luck, often used in reversed - order, as +Fare-ill+. - Ex.—_Ah ’ed it fetch t’ meer yam agaan, Ah nobbut fared ill wi - ’t, ez sha brak baith her knees cumin’ doon t’ bank._ - - +Ill-favoured+, _Vide_ +Ill-thriven+. - - +Ill-gaited+, _adj._ Awkward in action. - - +Ill-hap+, _n._ Misfortune. - - +Illify+, _v._ To speak disparagingly of, to defame. - Ex.—_Sha illifies onnybody an’ ivverybody, sha spares nowt na - neeabody._ - - +Ill-put-on+ or +-putten+, _adj._ Shabby, applied to clothes. - - +Ill-ta’en+, _adv._ To take anything with bad grace. - Ex.—_It war nobbut ill-ta’en what thoo sed._ - - +Ill-tented+, _adj._ Neglected, badly cared for or looked after. - - +Ill-thriven+ or +-throven+, _adj._ Having a weakly, ill-fed - appearance, unhealthy. - - +Immense+, _adj._ Exactly, precisely the thing required. - - +Imp+, _n._ An extra ring, usually made of straw, used for - enlarging the size, by insertion beneath the beehive. - - +In+, +Un+. One. _Vide_ +Un+. - - +Incomin’+, _n._ Entrance, the taking possession by a new tenant. - - +Inear+, _n._ The kidney. - - +Ing+, _n._ A low-lying pasture. - - +Ingle+, _n._ 1. Fire, flame. - 2. The fireside, when used with the definite article. - Ex.—_Ah tell’d my taal o’ luv byv t’ ingle glow._ - - +Ingle-neuk+, _n._ The corners by the fireside within the - old-fashioned open chimneys. - - +Inkle+, _n._ A kind of tape. - - +Inkle+, _v._ 1. To arrange plans. - 2. To have a desire for. - Ex.—1. _He’s awlus inklin’ summat, bud it nivver cums ti nowt._ - 2. _He maistly inkles efter what he can’t git._ - - +Inkle-weavers, As thick as+, In the weaving of inkle the workers - were enabled to sit quite close together, the width of the - fabric being so narrow; hence arose the saying, ‘As thick as - inkle-weavers.’ The phrase also carries the idea of great - friendship. - - +Inklin’+, _n._ A hint, an idea, a guess. - Ex.—_Ah’ve gi’en her a bit ov an inklin’ o’ what’s gahin’ on. - It’ll nut be lang afoor he finnds ’em oot, he’s gitten an - inklin’._ - - +In-meats+, _n._ The viscera of any animal which is considered - edible. - - +Innards+, _n._ One’s inside, bowels, entrails, &c. - - +Innerly+, _adv._ More within. - - +Inoo+, +Inow+, _adv._ Presently, shortly. - - +Insense+, _v._ 1. To inform. - 2. To make clear beyond all doubt. - Ex.—1. _Ah’ll insense him inti ’t when Ah see him._ - 2. _Ah varra seean insens’d it intiv him._ - - +Insides+, _n._ Viscera. - - +Intak+, _n._ Land enclosed from a common or road for cultivation. - - +Inti+, +Intil+, +Intiv+, +Intul+, _prep._ Into. - - +In wi’, To be+ = To be on good terms with. - Ex.—_Jack’s weel in wi’ t’ Squire._ - - +Iv+, _Vide_ +I’+. - - +Ivvery+, _adj._ Every. - - +Ivvery like+, _adv._ Every now and then. - - - J. - - +Jab+, _v._ To crush. - Ex.—_Ah’ve gitten mah finger sadly jabbed wi t’ yat._ - - +Jack+, _n._ Quarter-pint measure. - - +Jacket, To warm one’s+ = To beat, to chastise. - Ex.—_If thoo gans theear onny mair, Ah’ll warm thi jacket for - tha._ - - +Jacketed, To be+, _v._ To hear a charge, or bear reproof having - first been arraigned before one’s superiors; to be closeted with. - Ex.—_He’s been jacketed wi’ t’ gaffer i’ t’ parlour ower an hoor - noo. Ah’ll lay he’s gi’en him t’ lines properly._ - - +Jaded+, _adj._ To be almost overcome with difficulties. - - +Jangle+, _v._ To jingle. - - +Jannock+, _adj._ Fair, honourable, just. - - +Jar+, _v._ To quarrel. - - +Jar on+, _v._ To be continually at variance. - - +Jarring+, _n._ Quarrelling, squabbling. - - +Jaup+, _v._ 1. To strike together. - 2. To shake any liquid in a vessel. - Ex.—1. _Ah’ll jaup tha eggs_, i.e. boys jaup their Easter eggs - by striking them one against the other; the one succeeding in - breaking the other’s egg claims it as victor. - 2. _If thoo jaups t’ milk leyke that, thoo’ll finnd butter i’ - t’ can when thoo gits yam._ - - +Jaupin’+, +Jaupen+, _adj._ Gaping, wide. - - +Javver+, _n._ Silly talk, foolish prating. - - +Jealous+, +Jillous+, _adj._ Suspicious. _v._ To anticipate. - Ex.—_Ah war a bit jillous ’at he wad splet on uz. Ah jillous’d - Jim all t’ tahm._ - - +Jert+, _v._ To project a stone by catching the hand against the - side. - - +Jill+, _v._ To drink continuously but in small quantities. - Ex.—_Neeabody ivver sees him tak a gert quantity, bud then he - gans jilling aboot seea._ - - +Jimp+, _adj._ 1. Smart in figure, slight. - 2. Short measure. - Ex.—1. _Sha’s gitten ez jimp a waist ez onny lass._ - 2. _It’s jimp i’ t’ paper, an’ jimp i’ pot_, i. e. ‘Light both - as to weight and measure.’ - - +Jin+, Jane. - - +Jinny-spinner+, _n._ The crane-fly, or any of the genus _Tipula_. - - +Jinny-ullot+, +Jenny Howlet+, _n._ The tawny owl (_Syrnium - siridula_). - - +Job+, _v._ To trade in. - Ex.—_He jobs iv ommaist owt_. - - +Joblijock+, _n._ The name of the cock turkey, a domestic trouble - or discomfort. - - +Jodder+, +Jother+, _n._ A shaking, as one gets in a springless - cart, a trembling. - Ex.—_It joggled an’ Ah jothered, whahl Ah felt leyke tumm’ling - ti bits._ - - +Jodder+, +Jother+, _v._ To shake like jelly, to tremble. - - +Jodderum+, _n._ A trembling, shaking mass. - - +Joggle+, _v._ To shake, to be unsteady in motion. - - +Joggly+, _adj._ Shaky, unsteady. - - +Joggle-stick+, _n._ The bar which secures the shafts to the body - of the cart. - - +Jollous+, _adj._ In good condition, healthy, well-fed. - - +Jolt-heead+, _n._ A clumsy fellow. - - +Jorum+, _n._ A pitcher-like vessel of considerable size; the - whole lot, a considerable crowd of people. - - +Joskin+, _n._ A country lad. - - +Joul+, +Jowl+, _n._ The jaw; fat hanging cheeks. - - +Joul+, +Jowl+, _v._ To jolt or hit against. - Ex.—_Ah laamed mahsen sadly, Ah jowl’d my heead up agaainst t’ - deear._ - - +Jowls+, _n._ A kind of hockey played by boys. - - +Judy-cow+, _Vide_ +Doody-cow+. - - +Jumm’lment+, _n._ 1. A confusion. - 2. Things of many kinds. - Ex.—1. _Thoo’s gitten things intiv a straange jumm’lment._ - 2. _Ah nivver clapt my een on sike a jumm’lment o’ trash ez he’s - gitten geddered tigedder._ - - +Jump with, To+, _v._ To meet or to find. - Ex.—_Ah jumped wi’ Betty at t’ lonnin’ end. Efter leeaking all - ower foor t’ lad, Ah jumped wiv him at skeeal yat._ - - +June bug+, _n._ The ladybird (_Coccinella punctata_). _Vide_ - +Doody-cow+. - - +Junters+, _adj._ Sulks, bad temper. - - - K. - - +Kaimt+, _adj._ Not straight. - - +Kale+, +Keeal+, _n._ Porridge, broth. - NOTE.—If for other than domestic use, it is specialized as - ‘Keeal for t’ pigs,’ ‘flour keeal,’ &c. - - +Kale-pot+, +Keeal-pot+. An iron pot having three short iron feet, - used for cooking kale in. - - +Kalīver+, _v._ To dance about excitedly. - - +Kame+, +Keeam+, _n._ A comb. Also as a _verb_. - - +Kane+, +Keean+, _v._ To bring fermentation to a head. - - +Kave+, +Keeave+, _v._ To rake the ’pulls and caff’ from corn when - thrashing. - - +Kavings+, _n._ The short straws, &c., as above. - - +Kead+, +Ked+, _n._ The sheep-tick (_Melophagus ovinus_). - - +Keck+, +Kecken+, _v._ To make a noise whilst coughing, as if - something was fast in the throat; to have a loathing for; - fastidious. - - +Kecken-hearted+, _adj._ Nauseated, fanciful. - - +Keckle+, _v._ To laugh heartily. - - +Kedge+, _n._ A glutton. - - +Kedge+, _v._ To set the teeth on edge, to eat and drink like a - glutton. - - +Kedging+, _n._ Food. - - +Keeak+, _n._ Cake. - - +Keeak+, _v._ To cake, to form a hard scum. _Vide_ also +Keek+. - - +Keeaky+, _adj._ Brisk, lively. - - +Keeave+, +Kauve+, _v._ To paw the ground impatiently, as a horse. - - +Keeaving-rake+ } _n._ The rake and riddle used during thrashing. - +Keeaving-riddle+ } - - +Keek+, +Keeak+, _v._ To lean towards, or tilt up. - Ex.—_Keeak t’ cart a larl bit mair._ - - +Keek+, _v._ To pry or peep into, to observe unawares. - Ex.—_Sha’s nowt na better ’an a keyhooal keeker, sha’s allus - keeking._ - - +Keen+, _adj._ Eager, energetic, desirous. - Ex.—_Ah nivver seed neeabody sae keen afoor. He’s ez keen ez a - tarrier. Ah war a bit keen ti git it._ - - +Kegged+, _adj._ Offended, inclined to be spiteful. - Ex.—_He gat hissel sairly kegg’d ower t’ job._ - - +Keld+, +Kell+, +Caul+, _n._ The membrane enveloping the foetus in - the womb, and occasionally found adhering at birth. - - +Kelk+, _n._ Fool’s parsley (_Aethusa cynapium_), a heavy blow, a - single ovum of the spawn of a fish. - - +Kelps+, _n._ The iron hooks hanging from the gally-bauk. - - +Kelter+, _n._ Circumstances of any kind; wealth, or rather the - condition of wealth as vested in property. - - +Kelter+, _n._ To go full speed. - Ex.—_Ah nivver cam sike a kelter i’ mah leyfe._ - - +Keltering+, _adj._ Almost beyond comparison. - Ex.—_Mah wo’d, bud yon is a keltering good un._ - - +Kelterment+, _Vide_ +Ketterment+. - - +Kemps+, _n._ Hairs mixed with wool. - - +Kempt+, _pp._ Combed. - - +Ken+, _v._ To know. - - +Ken+, +Kern+, _v._ To churn. _n._ A churn. - - +Ken-cruddle+, _n._ A churn staff. - - +Ken-milk+, _n._ Churn-milk, i.e. butter-milk. - - +Kennigood+, _n._ A reminder. - Ex.—_Tak that ez a kennigood_, said a man, boxing a boy’s ears. - - +Kenning+, _n._ 1. Knowledge. - 2. Recognition. - Ex.—1. _Ther’s a gay bit o’ kenning i’ t’ lad._ - 2. _T’ lass ’ez waxed that mich whahl ther’s neea kenning her._ - - +Kenspak+, +Kenspeckle+, _adj._ Easily known or recognizable, - conspicuous. - - +Kent+, _pp._ Knew. - - +Kep+, _v._ To catch. - Ex.—_Ah’ll potch an’ thoo kep._ - - +Keslip+, +Keslop+, _n._ Rennet. - - +Kessen+, _part._ Cast, bent. - - +Kess’mas+, +Kess’nmas+, +Kessamas+, _n._ Christmas. - - +Kess’n+, _v._ To christen. - - +Kess’nen+, _n._ A christening. - - +Kess’n up+ = To be found, to turn up. - Ex.—_Ah thowt it ’ed geean foor good, bud it’s kess’n up agaain - ez good ez ivver._ - - +Kest+, _adj_. Bent, not straight, out of truth. - - +Kest+, _v._ To cast off. - - +Ket+, _n._ Filth, tainted meat, carrion. - - +Ketlock+, _n._ Charlock. _Vide_ +Runch+. - - +Ketterment+, _n._ Rubbish. - - +Ketty+, _adj._ 1. Nasty. - 2. Disagreeable. - Ex.—1. _Oh, what ketty stuff! Ah caan’t eat it._ - 2. _It’s nobbut a ketty gahin’ on_, i.e. a disagreeable - proceeding. - - +Kevel+, _n._ A strong, fairly long ash handle, to which is fixed - a steel hammer-head of curious shape, used as a hammer in quarry - work. - - +Kevel+, _v. and n._ Both the working of the stone and the swinging - of the hammer. - Ex.—_Ah’ll kevel mair flints iv a daay ’an he can_, i.e. dress - more flints. _He mannishes varra weel foor a new starter, an’ - when he’s larnt t’ knack o’ takking a larl bit wider kevel, - he’ll chip all t’ easier foor ’t_, i.e. ‘When he has learnt - the trick of taking a little bit wider sweep or swing, he will - chip all the easier for it.’ In some way difficult to define, - both the noun and verb, +Kevel+, relate to the handle and its - action as well as to the head. - - +Kex+, _n._ Dried stem of fool’s parsley. - - +Kick+, _v._ To object. - Ex.—_Ah s’all kick neea lahtle if he cums that gam on ma._ - - +Kicky-wicky+, _adj._ Disdainful. - - +Kin+, _n._ 1. Kind, generally of species. - 2. Sort, relationship. - 3. A chilblain, a chap or crack in the skin. - Ex.—1. _What a-kin is he ti Tommy?_ 2. _What kin o’ yan - is ’t he’s gitten?_ - - +Kin+, _v._ To chap, as one’s hands in frosty weather. - - +Kin-cough+, _n._ Whooping cough. - - +Kind+, _adj._ On friendly terms. - Ex.—_Tha’ve gitten kind agaan. Wa’ve been kind sen wa wur lads._ - - +Kindling+, +Kinlin’+, _n._ Firewood, small twigs suitable for - lighting a fire. - - +Kink+, _n._ A twist in a rope or line, stiffness of the limbs, - a stiff neck. - - +Kink+, _v._ To laugh wildly, hysterically; to laugh until one - labours for breath. - - +Kinlin’+. _Vide_ +Kindling+. - - +Kinn’l+, +Kinnle+, _v._ To set and light the fire; to bring forth - young, applied to a rabbit. - - +Kipper+, _adj._ Nimble, in good and lively spirits. - - +Kirk+, _n._ A church. - - +Kirk-garth+, _n._ Churchyard. - - +Kirk-warner+, _n._ Churchwarden. - - +Kissing-bush+, _n._ The mistletoe. - - +Kist+, _n._ A chest. - - +Kit+, _n._ A small pail with one of the staves longer than the - rest, to serve as a handle. - - +Kite+, _n._ The belly. - - +Kith+, +Kyth+, _n._ Friends, acquaintances. - - +Kitlin’+, _n._ A kitten. - - +Kittle+, +Kittlish+, _adj._ 1. Easily moved or upset. - 2. Nice, delicate. - 3. Ticklish, easily tickled. - Ex.—1. _Keep off; its nobbut a varra kittle consarn, varra - larl’ll touple all t’ lot ower_, i.e. ‘Stand clear; it is only - a very unsteady concern, a slight shock or touch will knock it - over.’ - 2. _Ah’d a seet reyther thoo’d tell him thisel; it’s a kittlish - thing foor me ti deea when Ah’s gahin’ ti wed his sister._ - 3. _Deean’t touch ma unner t’ airms, Ah’s that kittlish whahl Ah - caan’t bahd it._ - - +Kittle+, _v._ 1. To bring forth young, said of a cat. - 2. To excite, to stir up, to awaken. - 3. To tickle. - Ex.—2. _Ah’ll tell him a few things ’at’ll kittle him up a bit. - If that weean’t kittle him up a bit, Ah knaw o’ nowt ’at will._ - 3. _T’ mair Ah scrat an’ t’ mair Ah kittle._ - - +Kitty-keis+, _n._ Seeds of the ash-tree. - - +Kity+, _adj._ Having a protuberant stomach. - - +Kizzen’d+, _pp._ of +Kizzen+, _v._ Dried up, over-cooked, parched. - Ex.—_Thoo’s kizzen’d it whahl Ah caan’t eat it._ - - +Knab+, _v._ To gnaw as a mouse. - - +Knack+, _n._ Adroitness, skill, aptness. - Ex.—_Ah tried an’ oor Jack tried, bud wa c’u’d mak nowt on ’t; - bud Tom teeak ho’d an’ did it iv a crack, bud then he’s gitten - t’ knack on ’t._ - - +Knack+, _v._ To talk affectedly, to mince one’s speech. - - +Knackish+, _adj._ Knavish. - - +Knap+, _v._ To give a slight tap, to knock, so as to break. - Ex.—_Ah’ll knap thi knuckles foor tha. Ah’ve knapped a piece off - t’ jug spoot._ - - +Knappish+, _adj._ Snappy. - - +Knapper+, _v._ To talk finely. _Vide_ +Knack+. - - +Knapper+, _n._ A door-knocker. - - +Knappers+, _n._ Leather flaps to shield the thighs when using the - turf spade. - - +Knappery-ware+, _n._ Crockery. - - +Knar+, +Knor+, +Knur+, _n._ A ball of wood, a hard knot. - - +Knarl+, _v._ To run in knots, as a skein of wool or twine. - - +Knaw+, _v._ Know. - - +Knee-bass+, _n._ A straw cushion to kneel on when washing steps, - a church hassock. - - +Knep+ or +Nipe+, _v._ To bite off in small pieces. - - +Knodden+, _pp._ Knead. - - +Knoll+, +Knowl+, _n._ A stroke of a bell. - Ex.—_Whisht! it gav six knowlls; it’ll be foor a woman, mebby - Betsy Parkin._ - - +Knoll+, _v._ To toll, generally applied to the passing bell. - - +Knop+, _n._ A knob. - - +Knucks+, +Knacks+, +Knuckles+, _n._ A game very commonly played - in the North Riding, several holes being made in the ground some - inches apart, the object being to shoot a marble from one to the - other. - - - L. - - +Laan+, _n._ A loan. - - +Labber+, _v._ 1. To play with water or soft mud. - 2. To struggle after falling into water. - 3. To plod through wet grass or turnips. - Ex.—_T’ barn labbers aboot i’ yon slap hoal whahl sha’s drinch’d - thruff an’ clarted an’ labbered fra heead ti foot wi t’ - blathery slathery muckment._ - - +Labbered+, _pp._ To be splashed or daubed with soft mud. - - +Laboursome+, _adj._ Laborious, tiring. - - +Lace+, +Leeace+, _v._ 1. To thrash soundly. - 2. To add spirits to tea or coffee. - Ex.—1. _Ah’ll lace tha soondly when Ah catch tha._ - - +Lacer+ or +Leeacer+, _n._ Any person or thing larger or taller - than usual. - - +Lad-louper+, _n._ An impudent forward lass, one who makes the - first advances. - - +Lady-cow+, _Vide_ +Dundy-cow+. - - +Lae+, +Leea+, _n._ A scythe. - - +Lae-sand+, _n._ A sandstone used for sharpening scythes. - - +Lafter+, _n._ The whole of the eggs laid before sitting, the eggs - being sat upon. - - +Lag+, _n._ A single wooden division in a cask. - - +Lag+, _v._ To loiter, to hang behind. - - +Lagged+, _pp._ Tired out, wearied. - - +Laggy+, _adj._ Last. A boy shouts ‘Laggy,’ or ‘Bags Ah laggy,’ - when he desires to take the last turn in any game. ‘Bags Ah - fuggy’ is, I claim first, ‘seggy’ second, ‘thoddy’ third. - - +Lahk+, _Vide_ +Like+. - - +Lahtle+, +Larl+, _adj._ Little. - Ex.—_Thoo’s nobbut a larl un, bud if thoo nobbut wurks hard an’ - eats plenty o’ pudden thoo’ll stritch oot a gay bit._ - - +Laid-off+, _adj._ Incapable of work through illness or other causes. - - +Laid out+, _v._ Prepared like, got up, looked like. - Ex.—_Ah caan’t saay what it war, bud it laid out leyke rice an’ - soapsuds; sum on ’em gulched it doon leyke all that._ - - +Laid out+, _v._ 1. To arrange. - 2. To attend to the body immediately after death. - 3. To spend money. - Ex.—1. _Sha laid t’ table oot varra neycely._ - 2. _Hannah an’ Jane’s laid him oot, poor things an’ tha’re - gahin’ ti sahd him by o’ Tho’sday._ - 3. _Ah’ve spent all mah brass, bud Ah’ve laid it oot weel._ - - +Lairock+, _n._ The lark (_Aluda arvensis_). - - +Lait+, +Late+, +Leeat+, _v._ To seek. - Ex.—_Ah awlus ’ev ti late that lass ivvery tahm Ah want her. - Ah’ve lated high an’ low foor ’t, bud Ah caan’t finnd it - neeawheear._ - - +Lake+, +Laak+, +Leyak+, _v._ To play, in a modified sense often - used as tease, e.g. _Tho’ll lake on wi’ t’ dog whahl it’ll bite - tha._ - - +Lakings+, _n._ Playthings. - - +Lalder+, _Vide_ +Lalling+. - - +Lalderish+, _adj._ Lazy, listless. - - +Lall+, _v._ To sing and shout excitedly. - - +Lalling+, +Lolling+, _v._ To wander idly and aimlessly about, to - lazily lean up against a wall for support. - Ex.—_He gans lolling aboot an’ maks ’at he’s badly; a good day’s - work ’ud deea him t’ maist good ov owt._ - - +Lallops+, +Lollops+, _n._ A lazy lounging fellow. - - +Lallopy+, +Lollopy+, _adj._ Idle, untidy, slovenly. - - +Lam+, _v._ To beat. - - +Lame+, +Laam+, _v._ 1. To hurt. - 2. To injure. - Ex.—1. _Let go, thoo’s laming my airm._ - 2. _Whya, onny road he’s lam’d t’ lad foor leyfe._ - - +Lammace+, _v._ To beat with heavy blows. - - +Lammacing+, _n._ A beating, a good thrashing. - - +Lamming+, _n._ A beating. - - +Land+, _n._ Space between two furrows. - - +Land+, _v._ To arrive, to give a blow. - Ex.—_Ah set off efter tea an’ landed a bit efter darkening. Ah’ll - land tha yan ower t’ gob if thoo dizn’t shut up._ - - +Landlouper+, _n._ One who runs away to escape paying his debts, - &c. - - +Lang+, _adj._ Long. - - +Lang first+, _adv._ Long before. - - +Lang last+, _adv._ At last. - - +Lang length+, _adv._ Full length. - Ex.—_Ah slipped, an’ Ah war laid ma lang len’th on t’ grund i’ - a crack. Ah’ll gi’e tha t’ lang length o’ my hand._ - - +Lang sen+, +Lang sin+, _adv._ Long since. - - +Lang settle+, _n._ A long wooden seat with a high back and an arm - at each end. - - +Langsome+, _adj._ Long, tedious, troublesome. - - +Lang tongued+, _adj._ An exaggerator. - - +Lang waay+, _adv._ Much, certainly. - Ex.—_It’s a lang waay t’ best deeaing it this waay. Aye, byv a - lang waay_, i.e. ‘yes, certainly.’ - - +Lang-waays+, _adv._ Lengthways. - - +Lantern-leet+, +Lant’n-leet+, _n._ Lantern-light, often used to - denote late in the evening. - Ex.—_Ah doot Ah s‘an’t be wi’ y a whahl efter lantern-leet._ - - +Lap+, _v._ 1. To wrap. - 2. To have done with, usually followed by ‘up.’ - Ex.—1. _Ah’ll lap a bit o’ clowt roond it, an’ it’ll be all reet._ - 2. _Ah’ve nowt else ti saay; Ah s’all lap t’ job up noo, an’ seea - ther’s an end on ’t._ - - +Lap-band+, _n._ Hoop-iron. - - +Lap-cock+, _n._ A small bundle of hay twisted in the arms and laid - to dry. - - +Lapling+, _n._ A vicious fellow. - - +Lap up+, _v._ and _n._ To wrap up, to finish; an end. - - +Lapwing+, _n._ The plover. - - +Lark-heeled+, _adj._ Having heels turning outward. - - +Larn+, _v._ To teach. - Ex.—_Will ta larn me hoo ti deea ’t? Ah’s larning mysel ti plaay - t’ fiddle._ - - +Lash oot+, _v._ To kick, as a horse. - - +Lashin’ oot+, _v._ Extravagance, showing off. - Ex.—_Deean’t ya think t’ young doctor’s lashin’ oot mair ’an - what he can stand teea?_ i.e. ‘Don’t you think the young - doctor is showing off (buying horses, &c.) more than he will - be able to pay for?’ - - +Lashing+, _adj._ Large, either of persons or things. - Ex.—_By goa! bud he’s a lashing young chap; he mun stan mair ’an - six foot._ - - +Lasty+, _adj._ Durable. - - +Late+, _v._ To seek. - - +Lated+, _pp._ Sought. - - +Lated+, _adv._ Belated. - - +Later+, _n._ A seeker. - Ex.—_Ah fan him, bud Ah’s a good later._ - - +Latt+, _n._ A lath. - - +Latty+, _adj._ Thin. - - +Lawk+, _intj._ Lo! - - +Lax+, _n._ Diarrhoea. - - +Lay+, _v._ To be certain, of that opinion, to bet or wager; also - to levy a rate. - Ex.—_Thoo aims ’at he weean’t, bud Ah lay ’at he will. Ah’ll lay - tha what thoo leykes._ - - +Lay on+, _v._ To use extra exertion. Cattle ‘lay on fat’ when - specially fed. - - +Laylac+, _n._ The lilac. - - +Laze+, _v._ To live idly. - - +Lead+, _n._ Direction, way. - - +Lead+, _v._ To carry goods or hay in a cart or wagon. - - +Lead-eater+, _n._ India-rubber. - - +Leaf+, _n._ Fat round the kidney of an animal. - - +Leafs+, _n._ Fat along a pig’s nose. - - +Leam+, _v._ To drop or fall out when ripe, as nuts from the husks. - - +Leamers+, _n._ Nuts quite ripe, which fall from the husks. - - +Leasing+, _n._ The separating of differing kinds of grain. - - +Leather-head+, _n._ A dull, stupid fellow. - - +Leathered+, _pp._ 1. Beaten, overcome, mastered. - 2. Puzzled. - Ex.—1. _Ah’s leathered wi’ this job hooivver_, i.e. overcome. - _He’s leathered him soondly_, i.e. thrashed. - 2. _Ah’s leathered ti knaw wheea’s ti blaam_, i.e. puzzled. - - +Leave loose+, To let go, to cease from detaining. - - +Leavlang+, _adj._ Oblong. - - +Leck+, _v._ To escape by drops, to leak. - - +Lee+, _n._ The watery discharge from a wound, a lie. - - +Leeak for+, _v._ To expect. - Ex.—_Ah s’all leeak foor ya a week cum Mondaay. Ah’s glad ya’ve - fetched it, Ah’ve been leeaking for it cumin’ ivvery daay._ - - +Leeak ya+, _intj._ Look you! - - +Leear+, _n._ Learning. - - +Leef+, +Leave+, +Lief+, _adj._ Willingly, just as soon as. - - +Leet+, _n._ A light. - - +Leet+, _v._ To alight, to settle upon. - - +Leet, I’ that+ = In that way, like that. - Ex.—_Ah ’grees wi’ tha, when thoo puts it i’ that leet. Thoo - s’u’dn’t tak ’t i’ that leet._ - - +Leet on+, _adj._ Unbalanced. - Ex.—_Sit a bit forrad, wa’re a larl bit leet on._ - - +Leets+, +Leeghts+, _n._ Lungs, lights. - - +Leetsome+, _adj._ Lightsome, cheerful. - - +Legs, A pair of+, _n._ Stockings. - Ex.—_Sha’s gitten a gran’ pair o’ legs foor t’ wedding._ - - +Leg up, A+, _n._ Assistance. - Ex.—_Ah’ll cum an’ gi’e tha a leg up mysel._ - - +Leister+, +Lyster+, _n._ A three-pronged fork for striking salmon. - - +Lemmel-steean+, _n._ A stone with a hole through it, formerly used - to ward off witches. - - +Len+, _v._ To lend. - - +Length+, +Len’th+, _n._ Stature. The ‘g’ is always silent in - _length_, _strength_, _kingdom_, and usually the final ‘g’ also. - - +Length of, The+, The distance or limit of anything. - Ex.—_Ah efter it t’ len’th o’ t’ paddock._ - - +Lenny+, _n._ The linnet. - - +Let+, _v._ 1. To light. - 2. To alight on. - Ex.—1. _Ah let t’ cann’l._ - 2. _Ah tumm’ld off t’ stack, bud Ah let o’ mah feet._ - - +Let drive+, _v._ To strike or kick with force. - - +Let on+, _v._ To admit. - Ex.—_Ah didn’t let on ’at Ah knew owt._ - - +Let on+, +Lite on+, +Leet on+, _v._ To meet, usually followed by - ‘with.’ - Ex.—_Where did ta lite on wiv him?_ - - +Let wit+, _v._ To disclose. - Ex.—_Ah let wit ’at Ah knew summat._ - - +Letten+, _pp._ of ‘to light’ and ‘to let.’ - - +Leve+, _v._ To raise by leverage. - - +Leyke+, _Vide_ +Like+. - - +Lib+, _v._ To castrate lambs. - - +Liberty+, _n._ The parish or township. - - +Lick+, _adj._ Swift, at a great speed. - Ex.—_He did gan wiv a lick roond t’ corner._ - - +Lick+, _v._ To thrash, to surpass. _Vide_ +Leathered+. - - +Lick+, _n._ Just a slight wipe with a damp cloth; hence the saying, - when anything is only half cleansed, _Ah’ve deean ’t wiv a lick - an’ a promise_. - - +Lie on+, _Vide_ +Lay on+. - - +Lift+, _v._ To help, to render assistance. - Ex.—_Ah aim’d ti gi’e him a bit ov a lift mysel._ - - +Lig+, _v._ To lay down, to put down. - Ex.—_Thoo mun lig it doon a bit. Ah’ll lig it doon on t’ swab._ - - +Lig+, _v. i._ To lie down, to be near to or situate. - Ex.—_Sha ligs doon ivvery daay efter dinner. It ligs aback o’ - Roseberry._ - - +Lig-a-bed+, _n._ A sluggard. - - +Lig een on+, _v._ To meet or see a person. - Ex.—_Ah think he mun be deead, Ah ’evn’t lig’d een on him this - lang whahl._ - - +Lig ho’d+, _v._ To take hold of. - - +Lig on+, _Vide_ +Lay on+. - - +Lig up, To+, _v._ To store, put by. - - +Lightsome+, _Vide_ +Leetsome+. - - +Light+, +Leet+, _adj._ Of little depth, applied to a furrow; weak, - slight; mealy, not sodden, as applied to potatoes and bread; - lacking soil. - - +Lightening+, +Leetening+, _n._ Yeast (brewer’s), the break of day. - - +Light+ or +Leet skets+, _n._ A female of doubtful morals. - - +Like+, +Leyke+, _adj._ 1. Likely, highly probable. - 2. In duty bound. - Ex.—_Leyke eneeaf Ah s’ be theear._ - 2. _Ah s’ be leyke ti show up at kess’nen._ - - +Like all that+, _adj._ An intensive, giving greater force to some - previous statement. - Ex.—_Sha war iv a tantrum, an’ flang hersel aboot leyke all - that_, i.e. in a passion. _He went at it leyke all that_, - i.e. with resolution. _Sha gen’d an’ giggled like all that_, - i.e. in a ridiculous manner. _Sha tell’d him what sha thowt - leyke all that_, i.e. spoke her mind plainly. - - +Lile+, +Larl+, +Lahl+, _adj._ Little. - - +Lillilow+, _n._ A blaze, a flame. - - +Lilting+, +Lilty+, _adj._ Jumpy, frolicsome. - - +Limb+, _n._ A mischievous child. - - +Limber+, _adj._ Pliant, easily bending to light pressure. - - +Limmers+, _n._ Shafts. - - +Lin+, +Lahn+, _n._ Flax (_Linum usitalissimum_). - - +Lin clout+, _n._ A linen rag. - - +Linch+, _v._ To flog. - - +Lineseed+, Linseed. - - +Ling+, _n._ Heather. - - +Lingberry+, _n._ The seed capsule of the heather. - - +Ling-nail+, _n._ The linch-pin of a cart-wheel. - - +Lingy+, _adj._ Active, athletic. - - +Lip+, _n._ Impudence, saucy talk. - - +Lish+, _adj._ Active. - - +Lisk+, _n._ The groin. - - +Lithe+, _v._ To thicken with flour and water. - - +Lithing+, _n._ Flour and water, used to thicken broth, gravy, &c. - - +’Liver+, _v._ To deliver, to give back, usually followed by ‘up.’ - Ex.—_If thoo dizn’t ’livver ’t up, thoo’ll catch it._ - - +’Liverance+, _n._ Liberation, freedom. - - +’ll+ = Will. - - +Lobster-louse+, _n._ The wood-louse. - - +Loggerheeads, To be at+ = To be at variance. - - +Loggin+, _n._ A batten of threshed straw. - - +Lollop+, _v._ To lean up against, to move about lazily. - - +Lone+, +Loan+, _n._ A lane. - - +Long-+ or +Lang-strucken+, _part._ Legs too long for the body. - - +Loning+, +Loaning+, +Lonnin’+, +Lo’nin’+, _n._ A narrow lane. - - +Loobily+, _adj._ Foolishly. - - +Look a bad look+ } - +Leeak a bad leeak+ } +To+, _v._ To look ill. - - +Looking+ or +Leeaking for+, _v._ To expect, to desire. - - +Looks ta+ or +Leeaks ta+. Look thou or you. - - +Loose end+, _n._ Going to the bad. - Ex.—_He’s nobbut at a loose end, sen he gat hissel henkled on - wi’ yon lot._ - - +Loose i’ t’ heft+, _n._ Lit. loose in the handle, and hence of - little use. A worthless fellow. - - +Lopp+, _n._ A flea (_Pulex irritans_). - - +Loppered+, _adj._ Curdled (of milk). - - +Lops an’ tops+, _n._ The small branches and tops of trees. - - +Lorn+, _part._ Left, lost, forlorn. - - +Lost+, _adj._ Beyond all bounds, almost helpless. - Ex.—_Her hoos war fairly lost i’ muck. He war lost i’ wonder_, - i. e. absolutely amazed. _Ah war lost i’ ‘mazement an’ c’u’d - deea nowt._ - - +Lound+, _adj._ Calm, free from wind, sheltered. - - +Lounder+, _v._ To thrash soundly. - - +Loundering+, _n._ A thrashing. - - +Loundering+, _adj._ Heavy, severe (of a blow). - - +Loup+, _v._ To leap, jump, bound up. - Ex.—_If thoo caan’t loup ’t, thoo mun clim ’t, tumm’l ower ’t, - or ram thisen thruff ’t._ - - +Low+, +Glow+, _n._ The flame from a fire or candle, &c. - - +‘Lowance+, _n._ The forenoon drinking. - - +Lowse+[112], _v._ To loose, to unfasten. - 2. To dismiss. - Ex.—2. _Hez t’ chetch lowsed yet?_ i.e. ‘Has the congregation - left?’ - - +Lowse oot+, +Lowsen oot+, _v._ To unyoke, to unpack. - - +Lowsing tahm+, _n._ The time for unyoking after a day’s work. - - +Lubbart+, _n._ A clown. - - +Lucky bird+ or +bo’d+, _n._ The first male to cross the threshold - on New Year’s morn. - - +Lucky-steean+, _n._ A rounded, water-worn piece of quartz, or a - stone with a natural hole through it. _Vide_ +Lemmel-steean+. - - +Lug+, _n._ The ear proper, or the handle of a pitcher or jug, &c. - - +Lug+, _v._ To pull. - Ex.—_Sha diz lug mah hair, when she combs it, diz mah aunt Jane._ - - +Lug ends+, _n._ Tips of the ears. - - +Luke+, _v._ To pull weeds from cornfields. - - +Lumberly+, _adj._ Awkwardly. - - +Lurdy+, _n._ A stupid fellow. - - - M. - - +Mabble+, _v._ To leave the chisel-marks on stone, to rough-dress. - - +Mad+, _adj._ 1. Very angry. - 2. Wild. - Ex.—1. _Aa bud, Ah war mad wiv her._ - 2. _He seems fair mad efter t’ lass._ - - +Maddle+, _v._ 1. To bewilder, confuse. - 2. To grow bewildered. - 3. To conduct oneself foolishly in love affairs. - Ex.—1. _Tha maddled ma sairly wi’ ther racket an’ din._ - 2. _It war that pick dark ’at Ah didn’t ken wheear Ah war, bud Ah - maddled alang, fust yah waay an’ then t’ ither, whahl at last - end Ah fan mysen i’ Au’d Willie’s pig-stee._ - 3. _If thoo dizn’t tak care, thoo’ll gan maddlin’ efter t’ lass, - whahl thoo’ll loss thi job._ - - +Made oot+, _Vide_ +Mak oot+. - - +Madge+, +Madgipeg+, _n._ The fool of the sword-dancers. - - +Maffle+, _v._ To strive in a way quite inadequate to the success - of the undertaking. - Ex.—1. _Noo let’s hear what thoo ’ez ti saay foor thisel, an’ - deean’t maffle on i’ that road._ - 2. _If he maffles on wi’ t’ job i’ yon waay he’ll nivver - mannish ’t._ - - +Mafted+, +Mefted+, _adj._ 1. Stifled. - 2. Out of breath by long exertion, through fighting against a - storm, generally of snow. - Ex.—_Oppen t’ winner, Ah caan’t bahd; Ah’s ommaist mafted i’ t’ - pleeace._ - - +Mahnd+, +Mind+, _v._ 1. To remember. - 2. To pay heed to. - Ex.—1. _Ah mahnd t’ tahm_, i. e. ‘I remember the circumstances.’ - 2. _Ah’ve mahnded what thoo sed_, i. e. ‘I paid heed to what you - said.’ _Noo thoo mun mahnd all ’at Ah’ve tell’d tha, an’ think - on ’at thoo ’ezn’t ti foorgit ti mahnd an’ paay t’ bill._ - - +Main+, _adj._ and _adv._ 1. Largest or greatest. - 2. Quite. - Ex.—1. _T’ main on ’em sez ’at it is seea_, i.e. ‘The greatest - number of them say that it is so.’ - 2. _Ah’s ommaist main sartin he’s in t’ reet on ’t, or Ah’s main - sartin_, i.e. ‘I am quite certain.’ - - +Mainswear+, _v._ To take a false oath. - - +Mair+, _adj._ More. - - +Maist+, _adj._ Most. - - +Maist-hand+, _Vide_ +Near-hand+. - - +Maistly+, +Maistlings+, +Moastlings+, _adv._ Mostly. - - +Mak+, _n._ 1. Make, design, shape. - Ex.—_Ah’ve seen a vast o’ maks i’ ma tahm, bud nivver a mak - leyke this. Wheeas mak’s that?_ i.e. ‘Whose make is that?’ - _It ’ez a queer mak aboot it._ - - +Makmeeat+, _v._ To make or prepare food for the household. - - +Mak on+, _v._ To induce by kindness. - Ex.—_T’ dog’ll follow if thoo maks on it a bit._ - - +Mak oot+, _v._ 1. To make, serve. - 2. To succeed in an undertaking. - 3. To discover, find out. - Ex.—1. _He’ll ’a’e ti mak oot wi’ t’ bit ’at’s left noo._ - 3. _Ah caan’t mak oot what yon chap’s efter._ - - +Mak sharp+, +Be sharp+, +Leeak sharp+ = Make haste, be quick. - - +Mak spare+ = Economical, careful. - Ex.—_Noo reeach teea an’ help yersels; ther’s nowt ya need be - neyce aboot, an’ ya needn’t mak spare ov owt._ - - +Maks an’ manders+, _n._ All sorts. - Ex.—_Ah’ve all maks an’ manders on ’em._ - - +Man+, _n._ The husband of the person speaking, or of some woman - spoken of; with the addition of ‘young,’ it would mean the one - who is courting some fair maid, e. g. _Mah man’s gahin’, an’ thi - man’s gahin’, an’ Sally’s young man mun go wiv ’em._ - - +Manders+, _n._ All kinds, different sorts mixed. - - +Mang+, _n._ A bran mash. - - +Mang+, _v._ To mix various ingredients of any kind of food. - - +Manifold+, +Monifaud+, _n._ The intestines. _adj._ Various. - - +Mannish+, _v._ To manage, to conduct farming in a prosperous - manner, to manure land. - - +Mannishment+, _n._ Manure. - - +Mannur+, _v._ and _n._ Manure. - - +Mar+, _v._ To injure, spoil. - - +Mark’s E’en+, St. Mark’s Eve. - - +Marrish+, _n._ Low-lying ground liable to be flooded. - - +Marrow+, +Marrer+, _n._ One of a pair, similar. - - +Marrow+, _n._ To match, to produce a similar thing. - - +Marry, Aye+, _intj._ Yes; as ‘Will ta gan?’ answer, ‘Aye marry!’ - Ex.—_Aye marry! bud sha’s a beauty. Aye marry, tha’re wed noo - hard eneeaf._ - - +Mash+, _v._ To draw the strength out of anything by infusion, as - tea; to reduce to pulp. - - +Mash up+, _v._ To break in small pieces. - - +Mask+, _v._ To infuse. _Vide_ +Mash+. - - +Mask+, _n._ The face, the hunter’s term for a fox’s head. _Vide_ - +Keld+. - - +Master+, +Meeăster+, +Maăster+, +Maastther+, _n._ Master; the - head of the house, shop, works, or school. - - +Masterman+, _n._ One who employs. - - +Matched+, _pp._ Almost beyond one’s ability to do; to be put to a - severe test. - Ex.—_Ah s’all be hard matched ti git t’ job deean byv t’ tahm - ’at he wants it. He’s mair ’an matched wi’ yon. Ah’ve gitten - myself sairly matched this tahm._ - - +Matter+, _v._ To esteem. - 2. To influence. - 3. Information. - Ex.—1. _Ah nivver did matter him mich._ - 2. _Owt ’at he sez weean’t matter mich ti onnybody._ - 3. _Onny matter ’at he knaws weean’t mak onnybody neea wiser._ - - +Matters+, _n._ Quantity, account. - Ex.—_It maks neea gert matters owt ’at he sez. Nut onny gert - matters foor me, Ah ’ed summat afoor Ah cum’d._ - - +Maudle+, _v._ To besot. - Ex.—_He war maudling drunk._ - - +Maukey+, _adj._ Whimsical. - - +Mauls+, _n._ The marsh-mallow. - - +Maum+, +Maumy+, _adj._ Ripe, mellow. - - +Maunder+, _v._ To wander, talk foolishly. - - +Maundering+, _adj._ Grumbling, muttering. - - +Maunsil+, _n._ A fat, slovenly female. - - +Maun’t+, +Mooun’t+, +Mun’t+, +Munnot+. Must not. - - +Mawk+, _n._ A maggot. - - +Mawky+, Maggoty. - - +Mayern+, _n._ A wicken gatherer. - - +Mayhap+, _adv._ Perhaps. +Mebbe+ is most commonly used. - - +Maze+, _v._ To bewilder. - - +Meadow-drake+, _n._ Corn-crake. - - +Meal+, _n._ Flour of various kind not fully dressed. - - +Mealy-mouthed+, _adj._ Plausible. - - +Mean+, +Meean+, _adj._ Bad as to character. - Ex.—_He’s aboot ez meean ez tha mak ’em. Sha’s meean eneeaf ti - deea onny dirty trick. Sha’s meean eneeaf ti hunger t’ baa’n - ti deeath._ - NOTE.—‘Mean’ is almost always used to denote some form of badness, - rarely stinginess or mediocrity. - - +Meat+, _n._ The daily food of a workman in addition to his wages. - - +Meat+, _v._ To provide a lodger with food as well as lodgings. - - +Meer+, _n._ A mare. - - +Meg+, _n._ A penny. - - +Mell+, _n._ A wooden mallet. - - +Mell+, _v._ To meddle, usually followed by ‘on.’ - Ex.—_If thoo mells on oor larl Jimmy onny mair, Ah’ll leather tha - mysel. Thoo’s allus melling o’ t’ baa’n. Will ta nivver gi’e - ower?_ - - +Mell-sheaf+, _n._ The last sheaf gathered. - - +Mell-supper+, _n._ Harvest supper. See chapter on ‘Customs.’ - - +Melt+, +Milt+. The spawn of the milter (male fish). - - +Mend+, _v._ To improve, to grow better. - Ex.—_Ah’s mending neycely noo, Ah’s seean be all reet agaan. - He’ll ’a’e ti mend his waays, or he’ll end up nowt._ - - +Mends+, _n._ Improvement. - - +Mennem+, +Mennad+, _n._ The minnow. - - +Mense+, _n._ Decency, good appearance, civility, tact. - Ex.—_If he’d ’ed onny mense aboot him, he wadn’t ’a’e sed a thing - leyke that._ - - +Mense+, _v._ 1. To add beauty or order. - 2. To smooth away a misunderstanding. - Ex.—1. _Sha seean mensed things up a bit when sha cam._ - 2. _Nobbut saay thoo’s sorry an’ it’ll mense t’ matter up at - yance._ - - +Menseful+, _adj._ Becoming and decent behaviour. - - +Mensefully+, _adv._ Becomingly, decently, civilly. - - +Menseless+, _adj._ Untidy, useless, &c. - - +Merls+, _n._ The game of morris. - - +Met+, _n._ Two bushels, a five-stone weight. - - +Met-poke+, _n._ A narrow sack, but sufficiently large to hold two - bushels. - - +Meuse+, _v._ To study, to contemplate. - Ex.—_Ah think t’ lass is lovesick, sha gans meusing aboot seea._ - - +Mew+, _pret._ To mow. _n._ A stack. - - +Mew-bo’nt+, _adj._ Heated or burnt in the stack. - - +Mew up+, _v._ To be overcrowded in a heated room. - 2. To huddle together. - Ex.—1. _Ther war ower monny fau’k i’ t’ room; Ah war that mew’d - up Ah c’u’d hardlings breeathe. Sha’s gitten all her things - mew’d up tigether, whahl sha’ll ’a’e straange deed ti git ’em - all ti reets again._ - - +Mich+, _adj._ Much. - - +Middin+, _n._ A manure-heap. - - +Middinstead+, _n._ The ground or place of the midden. - - +Midge+, _n._ A tiny fly. - - +Mig+, _n._ The drainings from a manure-heap. - - +Milk-can+, _n._ A milk-pail. - - +Milk-hoos+, +Milk’us+, _n._ The milk dairy. - - +Milk-lead+, _n._ A shallow leaden cistern, with a hole stopped by - a wooden plug; after the milk has stood overnight, the plug is - withdrawn, and the milk drained from the cream. - - +Mill’d in+, _adj._ Shrunk, aged, withered. - - +Mill-e’e+, _n._ The eye or hole through which the ground grain - falls into the sack or bin. - - +Mill-gear+, _n._ The machinery of a mill. - - +Mill-race+, +Mill-reeace+, _n._ The cut or channel which leads to - the waterwheel, the water running towards the waterwheel. - - +Mindful+, +Mahndful+, _adj._ Careful. - Ex.—_Thoo mun be mahndful hoo thoo hugs t’ basket. Be mahndful - what thoo sez, noo._ - - +Mint+, _v._ To intend, purpose; to aim a blow; to pretend. - - +Mirak’lous+, _adj._ Careless, venturesome, precocious. - Ex.—_He’s a bit mirak’lous wiv a gun. He carried on iv a straange - mirak’lous waay at t’ fire. He war awlus a mirak’lous kind ov a - lad._ - - +Miscall+, _v._ To give a wrong name to any person or thing, to - use abusive epithets. - - +Misfit+, _n._ Out of place, one who cannot be trusted. - - +Mista’en+, _adj._ Mistaken. - - +Mistetched+, _part._ Badly trained or broken in (of a horse). - - +Mistimed+, _adj._ Put out of the regular course, especially of - sleep. - - +Mits+, +Mittens+, _n._ Woollen gloves, covering the wrist and - knitted with divisions for the fingers. - - +Moider+, _v._ To bewilder. - - +Moil+, _v._ To toil on when tired. - - +Moit+, _n._ The smaller part, a small portion. - Ex.—_Tha sed ’at tha shared it oot amang t’ lot on uz, onny waay - Ah nobbut gat a moit._ - - +Mole-rat+, _Vide_ +Mowdywarp+. - - +Moo-moo+, _n._ A pet name for a cow. - - +Moor-titling+, +Moor-taalin+, _n._ The meadow pipit. - - +Mooun’t+, _Vide_ +Maun’t+. - - +Moozy-feeaced+, +Mouzy-feeaced+, _adj._ Applied to the first - growth of hair on the lip or chin. - - +Moozy meean+, _n._ A hazy moon. - - +Mostlings+, +Meeastlings+, _adv._ Generally, usually. - - +Mouck+, _v._ To creep along, to hide. - - +Moud+, +Mud+, _v._ Might. - - +Mowdy-hill+, _n._ A mole-hill. - - +Mowdy-rake+, _n._ A rake used to level mole-hills. - - +Mowdywarp+, _n._ The mole. - - +Mounge+, _v._ To chew with the gums when the teeth have gone. - - +Muck+, _n._ Dirt, excrement, manure. - - +Muck+, _v._ To spread manure. - - +Muck-clout+, _n._ A floor-cloth, &c. - - +Muck-gripe+, _n._ A dung-fork. - - +Muck lather+, _n._ In a state of excessive perspiration. - - +Muckments+, _n._ Filthy matter. - - +Muck-middin+, _n._ The manure- or ash-midden. - - +Muck out+, _v._ To clean out a stable or midden. - - +Muck sweat+, _Vide_ +Muck lather+. - - +Mucky+, _adj._ Dirty, filthy, unwashed. - - +Mud+, _v._ Might. - - +Mug+, _n._ Face. - - +Muggy+, _adj._ Damp, foggy, thick and close. - - +Mull+, +Murl+, _n._ Dry fine mould. - - +Mumm’l+, _v._ To mumble. - - +Mump+, _n._ A blow on the face with the fist. _v._ To chew without - teeth. - - +Mun+, _n._ Man. - Ex.—_Ah’ll tell tha what, mun._ - - +Mun+, _v._ Must. - - +Murl+, _v._ and _n._ To crumble into small pieces. - - +Mush+, _n._ Dust, rotten through decay. NOTE.—Though generally - applied to anything dry, it is sometimes used to denote damp and - rotten. - Ex.—_It’s grund ti mush. Them to’nips is neea good, tha’re all - iv a mush._ - - +Mushy+, _adj._ Dry, powdery, in a state of pulp. - - +Musweb+, _n._ A cobweb, the white cobwebs which float about in - the air. - - +Muther+, +Mudder+, _n._ Mother. - - +My-song!+ _intj._ Originally +La Sangue+! - - - N. - - +Na+, _conj._ Nor, than. - - +Naay+, _adv._ Nay. - - +Nab+, _v._ To pick up sharply, to steal. - Ex.—_Thoo mun watch him or he’ll nab summat._ - - +Nab+, _n._ A hill or rocky point, a headland. - - +Naekins+, _Vide_ +Otherkins+. - - +Naether+, +Nowther+, +Nowder+, _conj._ Neither. - - +Naff+, _n._ The nave of a wheel. - - +Naff-heead+, _n._ A stupid fellow. - - +Naffle+, _v._ To pretend, to potter about. - - +Naggy+, _Vide_ +Gnaggy+. - - +Nak’t+, _adj._ +Naked+. - - +Namby-pamby+, _adj._ Affected, conceited. - - +Nanpie+, _n._ The magpie. - - +Nantle+, _Vide_ +Naffle+. - - +Nap+, _Vide_ +Nab+. - - +Nap+, _v._ To strike with a hammer lightly. - - +Nar+, _adj._ Near. - - +Narked+, _v._ Vexed beyond measure. - - +Nar-side+, _n._ The left-hand side of a horse when leading or - walking along with a team. - - +Nasty+, _adj._ Ill-natured. - Ex.—_He war varra nasty aboot t’ job._ - - +Natter+, _v._ To be fretful, peevish. - - +Nattery+, _adj._ Fretful, peevish. - - +Nattering+, _n._ Continued complaining. _Vide_ +Gnatter+. - - +Nattle+, _v._ To make a light rattling sound. - - +Natt’rable+, _adj._ What might be expected; unassuming, kindly. - - +Nature+, +Nater+, _n._ The innate good quality of things. - Ex.—_Ther ’ez been that mich wet, whahl t’ gess ’ll a’e lost - all t’ nater oot on ’t_, i.e. ‘There has been that much wet, - that the grass (drying for hay) will have lost all the - nature (goodness) out of it.’ - - +Naup+, _v._ To give a smart tap on the head. - - +Naup+, _n._ A tap on the head, as with a ruler. - - +Nauping+, _n._ A thrashing. - - +Naw+, _Vide_ +Neea+. - - +Nay-say+, _n._ The privilege of refusing. - Ex.—_Tommy’s gitten t’ naay-saay on ’t. Aye, Ah’ve bowt it, bud - then Ah’ve hed t’ naay-saay on ’t foor lang eneeaf._ - - +Nazzed+, +Nazzled+, _adj._ Somewhat intoxicated. - - +Nazzy+, _adj._ Under the influence of drink. - - +Neaf+, _Vide_ +Neeaf+. - - +Near+, _adj._ Close-fisted, very careful, greedy. - Ex.—_Did Sammy gi’e tha owt? Neea, he’s ti near ti even wish yan - weel._ - - +Near+, _n._ A kidney. - - +Near-hand+, _adv._ 1. Near by, close to. - 2. Almost, nearly. - Ex.—1. _Whya, sha lives near-hand Bessy._ - 2. _Ah nivver wur seea near-hand gittin’ putten oot o’ t’ road - i’ mah leyfe. If thoo gans near-hand yon chap, he’ll smit tha._ - - +Nearlings+, _adv._ Almost, all but. - - +Neavil+, +Nevel+, _v._ To pummel with the fist. - - +Nevilling+, _n._ A sound pummelling with the fist. - - +Neb+, _n._ The bill of a bird, the nose, the peak of a cap. - - +Neb+, _v._ To kiss, to peck at viciously. - Ex.—_Did ta neb her afoor thoo let her gan?_ - - +Neea+, +Noa+, +Naw+, +Nooa+, _adv._ No. - - +Neeaf+, +Neif+, _n._ The fist. - - +Neeaf-full+, _n._ A handful. - - +Neea matters+ = No great quantity, of little importance. - Ex.—_Did he win owt at t’ races? Neea matters wo’th telling on. - What sha sez is neea matters ti onnybody._ - - +Neeap+, _v._ To raise on end, as in lifting the shafts of a cart. - - +Neease+, +Nooas+, _n._ The nose. - - +Neease+, _v._ To sneeze. - - +Needer+, _n._ The common adder. - - +Needful+, _adj._ Necessitous, applies to persons and things. - Ex.—_Whya, wa mun all deea a bit; sha’s varra needful, ther’s a - lot o’ bairns. Aye, it’s wivoot doot a maist needful case._ - - +Needment+, _n._ Something necessary. - - +Ne’er-di-weel+, _n._ A worthless fellow. - - +Neest+, _adj._ Next. - - +Neet+, _n._ Night. - - +Ner+, _conj._ Nor. - - +Nervy+, _adj._ Vigorous. - - +Nesh+, _adj._ Tender, soft, weak. - - +Ness+, _n._ A projecting headland. - - +Neuk+, _n._ A corner, corner of a field, a hiding-place. - - +Never give over, With a+ = without ceasing. - - +New-fangled+, _part._ Pleased with novelties. - Ex.—_Bairns diz git new-fangled wi’ owt ’at’s fresh._ - - +Nias+, _n._ A young hawk. - - +Nibble+, _n._ Nipple of either the breast or a gun. - - +Nibbs+, _n._ The handles on a scythe. - - +Nice+, +Neyce+, _adj._ 1. Too particular. - 2. Shy. - 3. Considerable in size and quantity. - 4. Sensitive. - Ex.—1. _Ah deean’t leyke fooak ’at’s sae neyce aboot what tha eat._ - 2. _Noo help yersels, an’ deean’t be neyce aboot it._ - 3. _Ah mun saay ’at ther wur a neycish few._ - 4. _Ah’s a bit neyce aboot what fooak saay o’ ma._ - - +Nicker+, _v._ To whinny as a foal. - - +Niff-naff+, _n._ A trifle. - - +Niff-naffing+, _adj._ Trifling. - - +Nifle+, _n._ A trifle. - - +Nifle+, _v._ To waste time. Useless occupation. - Ex.—_Thoo nifles on, an’ nivver gits nowt deean. Thoo’s nifling - agaan, allus at t’ saam bat._ - - +Niggle+, _v._ To deal out or give grudgingly, to be greedy in - small matters. - - +Nigh+, _adv._ Nearly, about. - - +Nigh at hand+, _adv._ Close to, near by. - - +Nilder-nalder+, _n._ Vacillation, hesitation. - - +Nim+, _adj._ Quick, active. - - +Nim+, _v._ To snatch up quickly, to steal, to be active, agile. - - +Ninnycocks+, _n._ Young lobsters. - - +Nip+, _v._ Run. - Ex.—_Just nip ower ti Bob an’ ass foor t’ saw._ - - +Nip off+, _v._ To run away, to move quickly. - - +Nip up+, _v._ To snatch up quickly, to go up quickly. - Ex.—_He nipped it up afoor Ah c’u’d stop him. Nip upstairs an’ - fetch mah hat doon._ - - +Nipper+, _n._ A young child. - - +Nisly+, _adj._ Showery. - - +Nit+, _n._ The egg of the louse. - - +Nither+, +Nidder+, _v._ To shiver. - Ex.—_Ah nithered an’ dithered an’ trimm’ld all ower that mich - whahl Ah c’u’dn’t mak oot if sha’d been shuvved, tumm’ld, - slithered, or louped inti t’ beck._ - - +Nittering+, _part._ Subdued giggling. - - +Nivver+, _adj._ Never. - - +Nizy+, _n._ A dunce. - - +Nizzled+, _v._ To be under the influence of drink. - - +Noa ship+, _n._ Clouds said to resemble the Ark. A common saying - is, _T’ Ark’s oot, wa’re in foor a spell o’ bad weather._ - - +Nobbin+, _n._ The hair on the crown of the head. - Ex.—_He teeak her biv t’ nobbin an’ pulled her backkards-waay - ower._ - - +Nobbut+, _conj._ If, only. ‘Only’ is rarely used. - - +Nobby+, _adj._ Handy, nice. - - +Nock+, +Nicking+, _n._ A method of keeping count by cutting - notches on a stick. - - +Nodder+, _v._ To tremble. - - +Noggen+, _adj._ Hard, rough. - - +Noggin+, _n._ A quarter pint, a small jug. - - +Nominy+, _n._ The name given to any doggerel rhyme. - - +None+, +Noan+, +Neean+, _adv._ Not at all. - Ex.—_He’ll neean ho’d back, he’ll deea ’t hard eneeaf._ ‘Neean’ - in this case means more than ‘not’; the idea conveyed is, ‘He - will not in any sense hold back.’ _He’s neean lost owt_, - i.e. ‘He has lost nothing at all.’ - - +Nooatish+, _v._ To notice. - - +Noo+, _adv._ Now, well. The use of this word is most curious. - _Noo, Noo, Noo! Noo_, said one man on meeting a friend. ‘Noo’ the - first meant either ‘good morning,’ ‘now then,’ or ‘well.’ ‘Noo’ - the second was addressed to the dog, and meant ‘lie down.’ ‘Noo’ - the third, with a different inflection, was understood by the dog - to imply, ‘If you do not lie down at once, I shall hit you.’ And - ‘Noo’ the fourth clearly denoted, the dog having laid down, ‘Now, - then, we can talk.’ This inflective power throughout the whole - vocabulary lessens or adds force to words. Unfortunately it is - impossible to render in print these varying tones, which are the - life and soul of the dialect. When used as an interjection, it is - equivalent to ‘How do you do?’ - - +Nooa+, _Vide_ +Neea+. - - +Noos an’ agaains+ } - +Noos an’ thens+ } = By chance, now and again, occasionally. - - +Noration+, _Vide_ +Oration+. - - +Notified+, +Nooatified+, _adj._ Well-known. - Ex.—_Aye, he war a nooatified chap yance ower._ - - +Not ti fail+, Without fail. - Ex.—_Ah’ll tell him ti cum an’ not ti fail._ - - +Nowt+, _n._ 1. Nothing. - 2. Valueless. - 3. Worthless person. - Ex.—1. _Yon thing’s warse ’an nowt._ - 2. _It’s up ti nowt neea way._ - 3. _He’s a nowt, an’ warse ’an nowt._ - - +Nowt bud weel+, Exceedingly good in every way. - Ex.—_Ah can saay nowt bud weel on him._ - - +Nowther+, +Naether+, +Nowder+, _conj._ Neither. - - +Noy+, +Noyance+, +Noying+, _n._ Vexatious, worrying. - - +Nuddle+, _v._ To huddle together, to squeeze. - - +Nullet+, +Nullot+, _n._ An owl. +Ullot+ is most commonly used. - - +Numb+, _adj._ Dull, awkward, clumsy, insensible. - - +Nursery+, _n._ A plantation of young trees. - - +Nut+, _adv._ Not. - Ex.—_Is ta gahin wi’ ma? Neea, Ah’s nut._ ‘Nut’ is to some extent - an emphatic form of ‘not.’ - - +Nutty-crack-neet+, The ninth night before Martinmas Day, on which - a feast of apples and nuts is indulged in. - - - O. - - +O’+, _prep._ Of. - - +Oafing+, +Oafish+, _adj._ Half-witted, foolish, silly. - - +Oaf-rocked+, _adj._ More or less imbecile. - - +Oddments+, _n._ Odds and ends. - - +‘Od rabbits+, This and other forms commencing with _‘Od_ is an old - form of profanity, by abbreviating the name of the Deity by the - omission of _G_. - - +Of+, _prep._ By, out of. - Ex.—_That meer he gat of t’ broon meer’s deean weel._ - - +Off+, Used in the sense of ‘by heart.’ To be aware of, to know all - about. - Ex.—_Ah’ve gitten my task off. He’ll nut git ower ma na mair, - Ah’ve gitten him off noo_, i.e. ‘I know all about him now.’ - - +Offally+, _adj._ Refuse. Bad, both of persons and things. - - +Offally maade+, +Offally leeaking+, +Offally putten tigither+, - _adv._ Badly or poorly made, &c. - - +Offalment+, _n._ 1. Of little value, offal. - 2. A useless, good-for-nothing fellow. - 3. Intestines, &c., of animals. - - +Off and on+, _adj._ and _adv._ 1. Vacillating, uncertain. - 2. Now and again. - Ex.—1. _He’s allus off an’ on, an’ nivver sattles ti nowt._ - 2. _He’s off an’ on frev yah thing tiv anuther, whahl ther’s - neea ’pendence on him._ - - +Off one’s heead+, _adj._ Mad, delirious. - - +Off on’t+, _adv._ 1. Poorly. - 2. Disappointed. - Ex.—1. _Ah ’evn’t deean nowt this week, Ah nobbut felt a larl - bit off on ’t._ - 2. _He war sadly off on ’t when tha tell’d him o’ Mary’s trouble._ - - +Offen+, _adv._ From off, off. - Ex.—_It tumm’l’d offen t’ shelf on tiv his heead._ - - +Off’ns+, _adv._ Often. - - +Ofter+, _adv._ Oftener. - - +Okkad+, _adj._ Awkward, clumsy. - - +Olden+, _v._ To age, to show signs of age. - - +Ommaist+, +Ommost+, _adv._ Though often meaning simply ‘almost,’ - it often carries a stronger sense with it, e.g. Q. _Will ta gan - wiv uz?_ ‘Will you go with me?’ A. _Aye, Ah ommost think Ah - will_, would mean, ‘Aye, I certainly think I will.’ The general - sense, however, is that of ‘almost.’ - - +On+, _adv._ 1. Here. - 2. There. - 3. Forward. - Ex.—1. _He’s cumin’ on ti-neet_, i.e. ‘He is coming here to-night.’ - 2. _Will ta be on ti-neet?_ i.e. ‘Will you be there to-night.’ - 3. _Wa mun push t’ job on or wa s’aan’t git deean._ - - +On+, _prep._ Of. - Ex.—_Sha war despert freet’n’d ’at Ah war gahin’ ti tell on her._ - - +On, To be+, _v._ To assent. - Ex.—Q. _Will thoo gan wiv uz?_ A. _Noa, Ah weean’t be on at a - gam o’ that soart._ - - +Once ower+, _Vide_ +Yance ower+. - - +Onely sahded+, _adj._ Doubtful, singular. - Ex.—_It’s nobbut a onely sahded gahin’ on_, i.e. ‘It is only a - doubtful or singular proceeding.’ - - +Onny bit leyke+, or +Owt leyke+. Fairly well, tolerably. - Ex.—_If he aim’d onny bit leyke, he mud ’a’e mannished. Wa s’all - cum if t’ daay be owt leyke._ - - +On with, To be+, _v._ The act of doing, to be engaged with. - Ex.—_Ah s’ be on wiv it ti morn at morn_, i.e. ‘I shall be doing - it to-morrow morning.’ _He’s dropped Sally, an’ ‘s on wi’ - Jin_, i.e. ‘He has jilted Sally, and is engaged to Jane.’ - - +Oot+, _adv._ Out, not within; also away, as _Git oot wi’ ya_, - ‘Get away with you.’ - - +Oot o’ course+, _adv._ Beyond comparison, beyond measure. - - +Oot an’ away+, _adv._ Undoubtedly. - Ex.—_Oot an’ away t’ best hoss._ - - +Oor+, +Wer+, _pron._ Our. - - +Oorsens+, +Oorsels+, +Wersens+, +Wersels+, _pron._ Ourselves. - - +Oppen+, _v._ Open. - - +Oppen oot+, _v._ 1. To bring to light, to reveal. - 2. To show one’s true character. - Ex.—1. _If thoo sez mich mair, Ah’ll oppen oot a bit mysen_, - i.e. ‘I will reveal something.’ - 2. _Ah think he’s a varra canny chap sen he’s oppen’d oot a bit._ - - +Oration+, _n._ A commotion accompanied with much talking and - shouting. - - +Orf+, _n._ The scurf which forms under the hair of children and - animals. - - +Orling+, _n._ A mis-shapen, undersized, rickety child. - - +Othergates+, _adj._ Otherwise. - - +Othersome+, _adj._ Variety, of another sort. - - +Ought+, +Owt+, _n._ Anything. _adv._ At all. - Ex.—_It’s all nowther owt, nowt, na summat._ - - +Ouse+, _Vide_ +House+. - - +Out+, +Outing+, _n._ A day’s pleasure. - - +Out with, To be+ = On unfriendly terms. - - +Out by+, _adv._ Near to, in the direction of. - Ex.—Q. _Does Mr. Jackson live near here?_ A. _Noa, he lives out - by Newton._ - - +Outen+, _adv._ Out of. - Ex.—_Sha tumm’l’d outen t’ winder i’ti t’ watter-butt. Thoo - caan’t git thisel an’ Dolly a dhriss outen that, cut it which - waay thoo will. Ya mud ez weel aim ti squeeze milk outen a - yat-post ez git owt outen him._ - - +Out-end+, +Out-gang+, +Out-gaat+, _n._ An exit, a way out of. - - +Out o’ fettle+, _adj._ Unwell, needing repair. - Ex.—_Ah s’aan’t be gahin’ ti-daay, Ah’s a bit oot o’ fettle. T’ - cart’s gitten a bit oot o’ fettle; Ah s’all ’a’e ti ’ev it - leeaked teea._ - - +Out o’ t’ road+, _adv._ Out of the way, out of sight, killed. - Ex.—_Ah caan’t finnd ’t, sha’s putten ’t oot o’ t’ road - sumwheears._ - - +Out-thrust+, +Out-thrussen+, _adj._ Projecting. - - +Ouzel+, _n._ The Bessy ducker, or ring ouzel. - - +Over+ is generally pronounced ’ower’ or ’ovver.’ - - +Overget+, +Owerget+, _v._ To come up with, overtake, overreach. - - +Oversail+, _n._ The top course of masonry covering the whole - width of the wall. - - +Over-scutch+, _v._ To whip too severely. - Ex.—_He’s ower-scutched t’ lad this tahm, an’ Ah’ll foller t’ - law on him an’ mak him pay foor ’t._ - - +Overwelt+, _v._ To roll on the back, so as to be unable to rise - again—generally applied to sheep. - - +Overwing+, _v._ To outwit. - Ex.—_He aims ’at he knaws a bit, bud Ah’ll overwing him onny - tahm iv a hoss deeal._ - - +Owe+, +Awe+, _v._ To own. - - +Ower+, _v._ 1. To last through. - 2. To cease, to come to an end. - Ex.—1. _Ah deean’t think Tom ’ll git here i’ tahm ti see t’ au’d - chap, it’ll tak him all his tahm to ower t’ neet, let aleean - t’ week end._ - 2. _T’ meeting’s owered, t’ chapel’s lowsed, an’ t’ chetch ’ez - cum’d out, bud t’ army’s gahin’ ti gan at it whahl midneet._ - - +Ower+, _adj._ 1. Too. - 2. Beyond due bounds. - Ex.—1. _It’s ower grand_, i.e. ‘Too fine.’ _Ower big_, i.e. ‘Too - large.’ - 2. _He’s ower daft foor owt_, i.e. ‘He’s foolish beyond all - bounds.’ - - +Ower+, _prep._ and _adv._ On the other side of, beyond. - Ex.—_Ower t’ street_, e.g. ‘On the other side, across the street.’ - _Ower t’ dale_, i.e. ‘On the other side of or beyond the dale.’ - - +Owerance+, _n._ The upper hand, the mastery. - Ex.—_He’s gitten t’ owerance ov all t’ lot on uz. Ah ower-handed - him that tahm_, i.e. ‘Got the advantage of.’ - - +Ower an’ up agaan+ = More than once, over and again. - - +Ower-gaat+, _n._ A stone style, the steps in a wall side. - - +Ower-kessen+, +Owercast+, _v._ and _adj._ Overcast, cloudy. - - +Ower monny+, _adj._ Too many, too strong, beyond one’s power. - Ex.—_Ah’ll nut drhive t’ hoss, he’s ower monny foor ma. He maay - bunch t’ lass, bud his weyfe’s ower monny foor him._ - - +Ower-neyce+, _adj._ Too particular, fastidious, shy, diffident. - _Vide_ +Nice+. - Ex.—_Noo ya mun stritch yer elbows, an’ reach teea; what’s putten - afoor ya’s putten ti gan at; noo deean’t be ower-neyce, bud - set ti wark an’ sahd t’ lot._ - - +Owerset+, +Owersetten+, _pp._ 1. Overtasked beyond one’s strength. - 2. Overturned. - Ex.—1. _Ah’s completely owersetten an’ deean up wi’ t’ job. Naay - what, thoo seems owersetten afoor thoo starts._ - 2. _Ah owerset t’ au’d lass’ stall, an’ t’ nippers did scramm’l - foor t’ things._ - - +Owerhand+, _Vide_ +Owerance+. - - +Owt+, _n._ Aught, anything. - - +Owther+, +Owder+, +Aether+, _conj._ Either. - - +Ox-prod+, _n._ An ox-goad. - - +Oxter+, _n._ The armpit. - - - P. - - +Pace-eggs+, +Paste-eggs+, _n._ Hard-boiled eggs dyed various - colours, used by children on Easter Monday. _Vide_ chapter on - ‘Customs.’ - - +Pack+, _v._ When birds at certain seasons collect together they - are said to ‘pack.’ - - +Packman+, _n._ A pedlar. - - +Pack-rag day+, The day following Martinmas Day, when the servants - who are changing masters pack up their belongings. - - +Paddle+, _v._ To walk with difficulty, to wade bare-legged. - - +Paddy-noddy+, _n._ A long wearisome tale with much repetition. - - +Pafty+, _adj._ Pert, assuming, impudent. - - +Pair of stairs+, _n._ A flight of stairs. - - +Pairt+, _Vide_ +Part+. - - +Pairtner+, _n._ A partner, generally husband or wife. - - +Pally-ully+, _n._ A game almost identical with hop-scotch. - - +Palm+, +Paum+, _v._ To climb with the hands and legs. _Vide_ - +Swarm+. - - +Palm-cross day+, _n._ Palm Sunday. - - +Palms+, +Paums+, _n._ Catkins, ‘lambs’-tails’ of the hazel. - - +Pan+, _v._ To fit into or close together. - - +Pankin+, +Pankin-pot+, _n._ A large earthenware vessel. - - +Pankin-dish+, _n._ A deep earthenware dish. - - +Pannel+, _n._ A riding pad. - - +Parkin+, _n._ A gingerbread cake made for the fifth of November. - - +Parlous+, _adj._ Its general meaning carries with it a sense or - state of evil. - 2. Adverbially used, it always intensifies. - Ex.—1. _Ther’s been parlous deed at t’ mill. Tha’ve locked him - up at t’ last, it’s nobbut a parlous ending up._ - 2. _He’s a parlous good preeacher is yon local chap._ - 3. _T’ hoos is iv a parlous state, bud then it’s cleeaning tahm._ - - +Part+, +Pairt+, _adj._ A considerable number or quantity. - Ex.—_Pairt fooak wur bidden ti t’ funeral. Ther’ll be pairt - fruit ti year, nobbut Jack Frost dizn’t nip t’ blo afoor it - sets._ - - +Pash+, _v._ To dash to the ground, to smash into fragments. - - +Pash+, _n._ 1. A crash. - 2. A heavy fall of snow or rain. - 3. The result of a smash, or of a heavy fall of rain or snow, as - mud or slush. - 4. Soft, rotten, pulpy matter. - Ex.—1. _T’ chim’ly cam doon wi’ sikan a pash._ - 2. _Wa’ve hed a pash o’ snaw ti week._ - 3. _Baith t’ carts is upskell’d an’ t’ things ur a’ iv a pash - tigither._ - 4. _Cum awaay fra sike pashy deed, thoo’ll labber thisen all ower._ - - +Past+, _adj._ Beyond, incapable. - Ex.—_Past deeaing owt wi’_, i.e. ‘not to be restrained or - influenced.’ _Past kenning_, i.e. ‘grown beyond recognition.’ - _Past bahding_, i.e. ‘beyond one’s power to endure.’ _Past wark_, - i.e. ‘incapable of working.’ _He’s gitten past that noo_, - i.e. ‘incapable of having further aid rendered.’ - - +Past all+ = Beyond all bounds, generally used in a disagreeable - sense; the antithesis of ‘Caps all.’ - - +Patter+, _v._ To tread or beat down by many steps, as a pathway - across a newly tilled field. - - +Patter+, +Pattering+, _n._ The sound of quick, light footsteps. - - +Pause+, _Vide_ +Bunch+. - - +Paut+, +Pooat+, _v._ 1. To paw the ground impatiently. - 2. To kick lightly. - 3. To walk in an affected style. - 4. To walk feebly and somewhat heavily, as an aged person. - Ex.—1. _T’ meer’s gifting stall’d o’ stannin’, sitha hoo sha pauts - t’ grund._ - 2. _Wa caan’t hap t’ bairn up, sha pauts aboot wiv her larl feet - sae._ - 3. _Sen sha’s gitten long skets an’ fancy stockin’s on, sha diz - paut alang._ - 4. _Au’d Willie, Ah see, still mannishes to paut about wiv a - stick._ - - +Pawk+, _n._ +Pawky+, _adj._ Impudent, inquisitive, precocious, - forward (of a child). - - +Pawty+, _adv._ Slovenly. - - +Pea-hulls+, +Pea-swads+ or +-cods+, _n._ Empty pods of peas. - - +Peascod+, _n._ Peas still in the pod. - - +Peffing+, _adj._ Applied to short, husky, hard breathing. - - +Peggy-stick+, _Vide_ +Dolly-stick+. - - +Peggy wi’ t’ lautern+, Will o’ t’ Wisp, Jack o’ t’ Lantern - (_Ignis Fatuus_). - - +Pelt+, _adv._ Speedily, swiftly. - Ex.—_He cam doon t’ hill sike a pelt._ - - +Pelt+, _n._ The skin of a flayed animal. - - +Pepper-cake+, _n._ A kind of ginger loaf. _Vide_ chapter on - ‘Customs.’ - - +Perceivance+, _n._ Conception, acquaintance with. - Ex.—_Neea, Ah’d na perceivance o’ what he meant ti deea._ - - +Perishment+, _n._ The outcome of a severe cold, a thorough chill. - Ex.—_Ah’ve gitten a perishment o’ cau’d, Ah knaw that._ - - +Pet, To take+, _v._ To be offended, to sulk, to be affronted over - some petty misunderstanding. - - +Pick+, _n._ Pitch. - - +Pick+ = Black. An intensive, or black as pitch. - Ex.—_It war pick dark._ - - +Pick+, _v._ 1. To trip up, pitch, or push so as to bring to the - ground. - 2. To give birth immaturely (of an animal). - 3. To find fault. - Ex.—1. _Ah shoved mah foot oot an’ pickt him ower nicely._ - 2. _Coo’s pick’d her cauf._ - 3. _Sha’s nivver off mah beeans, sha’s awlus picking at ma._ - - +Pick-fork+, _n._ A pitch-fork. - - +Pickle+, +Piddle on+, _v._ To play with one’s food. - - +Pick-mark+, _n._ The mark on sheep made with a hot iron stamp. - - +Pick up+, _v._ To vomit. - - +Pie+, _v._ To store potatoes in an earth mound for the winter, to - peep, to pry. - - +Pie+, _n._ A heap of potatoes covered by earth. - - +Piet+, _n._ The magpie. - - +Piffle+, _v._ To steal in small quantities. - - +Piffling+, _v._ To. do anything in a silly, half-hearted way. - - +Pigmeat+, The refuse of the kitchen and dinner-table gathered - together, and saved with other swill in a tub for pig-food. - - +Pig-nut+, _n._ The earth-nut (_Bunium flexuosum_). - - +Pig-swarth+, _n._ The skin of bacon. - - +Pike+, _n._ A number of hay-cocks made into one heap. - - +Pinchery+, _n._ Greediness, penuriousness. - - +Pin-faud+, _n._ The pound for stray cattle. - - +Pinnies+, _n._ Fish just hatched. - - +Pirl+, +Purl+, _n._ The wooden or other winder upon which cotton - or thread is wound. - - +Pisking+, _v._ To lounge about. - - +Pit+, _v._ 1. To match. - 2. To jeer, to quarrel. - 3. To mark or spot. - Ex.—1. _Ah’ll pit him again thoo. Let ’em aleean, tha’re well - pitted._ - 2. _Ther’s maist o’ t’ street end oot, an’ tha’re pitting yan - anither leyke all that._ - - +Pit+, _n._ A mark left by small-pox. - - +Place+, _n._ Service. - Ex.—_Ah isn’t gahin’ ti pleeace yet._ - - +‘Plain+, +‘Pleean+, +‘Plaan+, _v._ To complain, to be querulous. - - +Plaint+, _n._ A pitiful tale. - - +Plash+, _v._ To splash. n. A puddle. - - +Plate+, _v._ To clinch a nail. - - +Plating+, _n._ A sound thrashing. - - +Pleeaf+, _Vide_ +Plough+. - - +Pleeaf stots+, Young fellows, about twelve in number, who used to - go about fantastically dressed on Plough Monday, headed by music; - a kind of sword-dancer. - - +Pleean+, +Plaan+, _adj._ Doubtful, not handsome. - Ex.—1. _Ah wadn’t trust yon, he’s nobbut a plaan un._ - 2. _Yon’s a pleean leeaking lass, hooiveer._ - - +Plenish+, _v._ To review, to furnish. - - +Plesh+, +Plosh+, +Plash+, _n._ A puddle. - - +Plew+, _Vide_ +Plough+. - - +Pload+, _v._ To walk with difficulty over heavy land. - - +Ploader+, _n._ A plodding, diligent fellow. - - +Ploat+, _v._ To pluck the feathers from a fowl. - - +Plodge+, _v._ To wade through water. - - +Plook+, _n._ A small pimple. - - +Plooky-feeaced+, _adj._ Applied to a pimpled or blotched face. - - +Plosh+, _v._ To splash, to bespatter. - - +Ploshy+, _adj._ Splashy. - - +Plother+, +Plodder+, _n._ Soft mud. - - +Plother+, _v._ To bring into a state of soft mud. - - +Plothery+, +Ploddery+, +Pluthery+, _adj._ Muddy, miry. - - +Plough+, +Plew+, +Pleeaf+, +Plufe+, _n._ A plough. - - +Ploughing-day+, +Pleeafing-day+, +Plewing-day+, _n._ The day on - which neighbouring farmers lend men, horses, and implements, to - assist a new-comer on the land. - - +Ploughing iron+ or +airn+, _n._ The coulter. - - +Pluck+, _n._ The heart, liver, and lungs of an animal. - - +Pluff+, _n._ A tube to pluff with. - - +Pluff+, _v._ To force anything through a tube by blowing. - - +Plug+, _v._ To load a cart with manure. - - +Plugger+, _n._ Anything larger than usual. - - +Pluke+, _Vide_ +Plook+. - - +Plum+, _adj._ Perpendicular. - Ex.—_That’s nut plum byv a lang waay._ - - +Plump+, _v._ To come straight down, hence to accuse openly. - Ex.—1. _It cam plump doon i’ t’ frunt o’ ma._ - 2. _Ah plump’d him wi’ ‘t tiv his feeace_, i.e. ‘I accused him - to his face.’ - - +Plump+, _adj._ Straightforwardly, exactly. - Ex.—_Ah tell’d him plump oot what Ah thowt._ - - +Plunder+, _n._ The legitimate profit made out of any business - transaction. - - +Pluther+, _Vide_ +Plother+. - - +Plutherment+, _n._ Slush, water and mud, or snow and mud mixed; - any liquid filth. - - +Pock-arr+, _n._ The scar left by small-pox. - - +Podge+, _n._ A short fat man. - - +Podgy+, _adj._ Little and fat. - - +Poke+, +Pooak+, _n._ A sack or bag. - - +Poringer+, _n._ A mug which widens toward the base. - - +Porrets+, _n._ Small onions. - - +Porriwiggle+, _n._ The tadpole. - - +Posh+, _n._ Slush, mud. - - +Posh+, +Poss+, _v._ To pound with a possing-stick whilst washing - clothes. _Vide_ +Dolly-stick+. - - +Poshing-stick+, +Possing-stick+, _n._ The stick used to poss or - beat with, something like a heavy club. - - +Poskit+, +Peggy-tub+. A large oaken tub used to poss clothes in, - often called a +Possing-tub+. - - +Posy+, _n._ A bunch of flowers to carry in the hand. - - +Pot-blossoms+, _n._ Blotches on the face caused by excessive - drinking. - - +Potherment+, _n._ Petty annoyance. - - +Pot-lug+, _n._ The handle of a jug. - - +Pot-sitten+, _adj._ Burnt whilst cooking, especially in the case - of milk or porridge. Almost universally styled now +Setten on+. - - +Potch+, _n._ To throw. - Ex.—_Gi’e ower potching steeans._ - - +Potter+, _v._ To attempt in a feeble way, often followed by ‘about.’ - Ex.—_Hoo he diz potter aboot! Diz he ivver get owt deean?_ - - +Pottering+, _adj._ Slow, feeble, awkward. - - +Preachment+, _n._ A wearying discourse. - - +Present+, _v._ To present. - Ex.—_Tha’ve presented her wiv a clock an’ a silken pess wi’ - twenty pund in ’t._ - - +Pretty warm+, _adj._ Comfortably off, well-to-do. - - +Prickle+, _v._ 1. To have a pricking sensation. - 2. To prick. - Ex.—1. _Ah prickle all ower._ - 2. _Ah’ve prickled my han’s all ower wi’ gethering bumm’l-kites._ - - +Pricky-back otch’n+, _n._ The hedgehog. - - +Prod+, _n._ Usually a hazel stick with a sharp point. - - +Prod+, _v._ To prick or push with a prod. - - +Proddle+, _v._ To poke about, to prick, to poke about under stones, - &c. - - +Proffer+, _v._ To make an offer. - Ex.—_Ah proffered ti gan ower an’ give him a lift._ - - +Prood+, _adj._ Proud. - - +Propped up+, _adj._ Kept alive owing to the observance of certain - rules and other advantages. - Ex.—_Tha’ve propped him up foor a bit, but it weean’t be foor - lang, he fails ivvery daay._ - - +Pross+, _n._ A friendly gossip. - - +Providence+, _n._ Food, &c., provided for any kind of feast. - Ex.—_A mirical wadn’t a’e maad yon providence last._ - - +Pubble+, _adj._ Plump, soft and round. - - +Puddings+, _n._ Entrails. - - +Pull+, _v._ To pick. - Ex.—_Wa mun pull t’ currants ti morn._ - - +Pulls+, _n._ The shells of ripe turnip seeds, &c. - - +Pulsey+, _n._ A poultice. - - +Pum+, +Pumm’l+, _v._ To beat with the fists. - - +Purlings+, _n._ Ribs upon which the spars of the roof of a house - rest. - - +Push+, _n._ 1. Moment. - 2. Energy. - Ex.—1. _He awlus leeaves ivvery thing ti t’ last push._ - 2. _Ther’s neea push i’ yon youth._ - - +Pushed+, _adj._ Hurried, inconvenienced. - Ex.—_Ah war varra mich pushed for tahm._ - - +Put about+, _v._ To be incommoded, put out of one’s ordinary - course, disgusted. - Ex.—_Ah nivver war seea grieved an’ vexed an’ putten about iv - all mah leyfe._ - - +Put off+, +Put away+. To kill, to remove one’s outer garments. - - +Putten+, _pp._ of ‘Put.’ - - +Putten by+, _v._ To put away, to bury. - - +Putten ti reets+, _v._ 1. To put in order. - 2. To correct. - Ex.—1. _Ah’ll git things putten ti reets a bit._ - 2. _Thoo’ll git thisen putten ti reets if thoo dizn’t tak care._ - - +Puzzon+, _n._ A poison. - - +Puzzon+, _v._ To poison. - - - Q. - - +Quality+, _n._ Gentry. - - +Quart+, _v._ 1. To cross transversely, as in ploughing. - 2. To disagree, to quarrel. - Ex.—2. _Ah aim ’at oor Tom wad quart wiv a stuffed monkey._ - - +Queery+, _n._ Any circumstance of an extraordinary character. - - +Quick-sticks+, _adv._ Sharply, at once. - Ex.—_If thoo dizn’t git it deean i’ quick-sticks, Ah’ll wahrm - thi jacket foor tha._ - - +Quirk+, _n._ A trick, deception. - - +Quite better+, = Quite recovered. - - - R. - - +Rabate+, _v._ To return something, in consideration of. - Ex.—_Thoo gav him fahve pund foor ’t, an’ ‘ed ti gan foor ’t - thisen, what rabate did ta git?_ - - +Rabble+, _v._ To read or speak so hastily as to be indistinct. - - +Rabblement+, _n._ Indistinct, confused talk; a mob of low - scoundrels. - - +Race+, _Vide_ +Mill-race+. - - +Rack+, _n._ Fleecy clouds driven by wind. - - +Rackapelt+, _n._ A worthless fellow. - - +Rackit+, _n._ A turbulent, boisterous noise. - - +Raddle+, _v._ To beat or thrash soundly. - - +Raddling+, _n._ A sound thrashing. - - +Radged+, _adj._ Furious, mad. - - +Raff+, _n._ 1. A confused heap. - 2. A disreputable person. - Ex.—1. _Thoo’s gitten things all iv a raff._ - - +Raff, After+, _n._ A second mowing, generally of clover. - - +Raffle+, _adj._ Idle or foolish. - - +Raffle+, _v._ and _n._ 1. To become confused, to wander. - 2. To entangle. - 3. To lead a wild, irregular life. - Ex.—1. _He raffles on seea whahl yan dizn’t knaw what he meeans._ - 2. _What a raffle sha’s gitten t’ wool inteea!_ - 3. _He’ll raffle on whahl he’ll gan thruff t’ bit o’ brass t’ - au’d chap left him._ - - +Raffle-pack+, _adj._ Of loose, irregular lives. - - +Raffling+, _adj._ Riotous, dissolute. - - +Raffly+, _adj._ Applied to a confusion of ideas or weakened - mental powers. - Ex.—_He gits a larl bit raffly at tahms._ - - +Rag+, _v._ To enrage, to vex. - Ex.—_Ah did rag him aboot Polly._ - - +Ragabash+, _n._ A bad character. - - +Ragally+, _adj._ Loose, unseemly, unprincipled. - - +Rageous+, _adj._ Furious. - - +Ragged+, _pp._ To be enraged. - - +Ragged+, _adj._ Borne down with fruit. - - +Raggel+, _n._ A worthless vagabond. - - +Rag out+, _n._ Passion, temper. - Ex.—_Deean’t git his rag oot_, i.e. ‘Don’t vex him.’ _Wa gatnhis - rag oot_, i.e. ‘We got him into a passion.’ - - +Rag-river+, _n._ A tomboy. - - +Raitch+, _n._ The white line down a horse’s face. - - +Raited+, _pp._ Applied to hay or straw injured by wet or damp; - peeled off after soaking. - - +Rain+, _Vide_ +Rein+. - - +Rakapelt+, _n._ A low, dissolute fellow. - - +Raking+, _v._ To wander about with a doubtful purpose. - - +Ram+, _adj._ Possessing a fetid smell. - - +Ram+, _v._ To push forward, to work hard. - Ex.—_Ah ram’d at it, an’ seean gat it deean._ - - +Raments+, _n._ Shavings, odd bits. - - +Rammack+, _Vide_ +Rannack+. - - +Ramm’l+, _v._ To idle about. - Ex.—_Noo off thoo gans; thoo’s awlus ramm’ling about t’ pleeace._ - - +Ramp+, _n._ A series of steps or drops on the upper part of a - wall; the name given to garlic. - - +Rampageous+, _adj._ Furious, boisterous, wild. - - +Ramp and Rave, To+, _v._ To be mad with passion. - - +Ramper+, _n._ The sloping side of a raised footpath. - - +Ramscallion+, _n._ A filthy, loathsome person. - - +Ramshackle+, _adj._ Disjointed, unsteady, needing repair. - - +Ranch+, _adj._ Acid. - - +Ranch+, _v._ To sprain. - - +Ranch+, +Rinch+, _n._ A sprain. - - +Rand+, _n._ A piece cut out of or off. - - +Rands+, +Reeands+, _n._ The unploughed edges round a field. - - +Randy+, _adv._ Madly, wildly, riotous. _adj._ Mad. - - +Rannack+, _n._ A dissolute spendthrift. - - +Rann’l-+ or +Randle-bauk+, _n._ The bar upon which the reckons - hang. - - +Rantipole+, _n._ A romping child. - - +Ranty+, _adj._ Much excited, angry. - - +Rap+, _n._ A friendly chat. - Ex.—_Cu’ thi waays, an’ lets ’ev a pipe an’ a bit o’ rap._ - - +Rap-off+, _v._ To speak on the spur of the moment. - - +Raps+, _n._ Gossip, news. - - +Rapterous+, _adj._ Ecstatic. - - +Rase+, _pret._ of ‘Rise.’ - - +Rase+, _v._ To raise, to cause to move. - Ex.—_Ah rase a rabbit i’ that coorner last neet. Ah rase ’t up - mysen._ - - +Raspin+, _adj._ Excellent. - - +Rasps+, _n._ Raspberries. - - +Rasselled+, _adj._ Applied to withered fruit. - - +Ratten+, _n._ A rat. +Rattener+, _n._ A catcher of rats. - - +Ratten-trap+, _n._ A rat-trap. - - +Rattle-beeans+ (bones), _n._ A very thin man. - - +Rattle-cap+, _n._ A lively, somewhat wild person. - - +Rattle-doon+, _adj._ Tumble-down. - Ex.—_It’s nobbut a rattle-doon spot at t’ best._ - - +Raum+, +Reeam+, _v._ To bawl at the top of one’s voice. - - +Raun+, _n._ Fish roe. - - +Rave+, _Vide_ +Rive+. - - +Rawk+, _n._ _Vide_ +Roke+. - - +Rawp+, _n._ Rape (_Brassica napus_). - - +Rax+, _v._ To strain to the utmost. - - +Rax+, _n._ A strain, a twist of limb or muscle. - - +Razzle+, _v._ To roast on the outside before the fire, to - hurriedly cook over a flame. - - +Reach+, _v._ To hand or fetch anything. - Ex.—_Reeach ma t’ breead. Reeach ma yon mug o’ milk._ - - +Reach to+, _v._ To help oneself. - Ex.—_Ya’re all on ya varra welcum ti t’ best o’ owt Ah’ve gitten, - sae reach to, and mak yersels at heeam._ - - +Reap up+, _v._ To refer to some past misdeed. - - +Rear+, _v._ To raise up, to raise into a perpendicular position. - - +Rear+, _adj._ Applied to meat underdone. - - +Reckan-bauk+, _Vide_ +Gally-bauk+. - - +Recklin+, _Vide_ +Wrecklin+. - - +Reckon+, _n._ The bar suspended from the rann’l-bauk. - - +Reckon+, _v._ To imagine, to suppose. - Ex.—_Ah reckon you’ll be him. Ah reckon I knaw summat aboot it._ - - +Reckon-crook+, _n._ The hook of the reckon. - - +Red up+, _Vide_ +Reet up+. - - +Reead-yat+, _adj._ Red-hot. - - +Reeak+, _n._ A rook. - - +Reeasty+, _adj._ Rancid, e.g. ‘reeasty bacon.’ - - +Reeasty-cropt+, _adj._ Hoarse. - - +Reek+, _n._ Smoke. _v._ To smoke. - - +Reet+, _adj._, _adv._, and _n._ Right. - - +Reet up, To+, _v._ To put things in order, to tidy up. - Ex.—_Ah’ll reet things up a bit, an’ then Ah’ll cum._ - - +Reft+, _n._ A chink, a slit. - - +Rein+, _n._ The sides of a field overgrown with brushwood. - - +Reist+, _n._ A horse which refuses to move is said to have taken - the ‘reist.’ - - +Rench+, _v._ To rinse. - Ex.—_Ah’ll gi’e it a rench oot._ - - +Render+, _v._ To convert the fat of pigs to a liquid state by heat. - - +Renky+, _adj._ Tall, but too thin, as trees when grown too close - together. - - +Resehes+, +Reashes+, _n._ The rush (_Juncus glaucus_). - - +Rezzil+, _n._ The weasel (_Mustela_ or _Putorius vulgaris_). - +Wezzil+ and +Wuzzil+ are equally common. - - +Rick+, _n._ A quantity of hay larger than a pike. - - +Rickle+, _n._ A small heap of peat set to dry. - - +Ride+, _v._ To travel on horseback, or in any kind of vehicle. - Ex.—_Ah s’all rahde t’ meer theear, bud rahde back i’ t’ cart - wi’ Billy._ - - +Ride rough-shod ower, To+, _v._ To obtain our own ends careless of - other people’s rights. - Ex.—_Ah’ll nut let him rahde rough-shod ower me when Ah’ve - gitten t’ reet o’ mah sahd._ - - +Riding+, +Ridding+, _n._ The space made by felling trees, - generally within a wood. - - +Riddle+, _n._ A sieve. - - +Rife+, _adj._ Inclined, ready. - Ex.—_He’s rife foor onny rackit. He war rife foor t’ job._ - - +Riff-raff+, _n._ A low mob, scum. - Ex.—_He’ll gan wi’ onny sike leyke riff-raff._ - - +Rift+, _v._ To belch. - - +Rig+, _v._ To dress oneself. - - +Rigg+, _n._ The back of a man or beast, the rows in which turnips - grow. Hence ‘rigg and furr,’ the latter being the raised part - running between each rigg. - - +Rigged+, _v._ To be laid on the back unable to rise, applied to - sheep; to tidy oneself, to put on one’s best. - - +Rigging+, _n._ The framework of a roof. - - +Rigging tree+, _n._ The top spar of a house. - - +Right+, +Reet+, _adj._ True, correct. - Ex.—_It’s reet what Ah’s telling on ya._ - - +Right on end+, _adv._ Direct as to direction, in a straightforward - manner. - - +Right up+, _v._ To put things in order. - Ex.—_Ah’ve setten Janey ti reet things up a bit._ - - +Ring-shaken+, _adj._ That part of timber which cannot be used - owing to its being diseased. - - +Rise+, _n._ A steep ascent. - - +Rive+, +Rahve+, _v._ 1. To tear in two. - 2. To pull with force. - 3. To split. - Ex.—1. _He gave it a snip w’ t’ sithers, an’ then rahve it reet - across._ - 2. _Ah rahve it up, it war deead._ - 3. _Ah s’all rive t’ maist o’ yon wood up._ - - +Rist+, _n._ Rust. - - +Rist+, _v._ To rest. - - +Road, Oot o’ t’+ = Out of the way, killed. - - +Rods+, _n._ Pea-rods, used to support peas when growing. - - +Roil+, _v._ To be noisy, turbulent. - - +Roist+, _adj._ Wild, dissolute. - - +Roistering+, _adj._ Wild, noisy, or dissolute. - - +Roke+, +Rawk+, _n._ A thick fog. - - +Roky+, +Rauky+, +Roaky+, _adj._ Foggy, damp. - - +Roll+, _n._ The pad of cloth worn on the head by potter women and - others who carry a basket in that position. - - +Roll-egg day+, +Troll-egg day+. Easter Monday. _Vide_ chapter on - ‘Customs.’ - - +Roo+, +Roo on+, _v._ To work hard amidst confusion. - Ex.—_If thoo’d nobbut sahd a few things by ez thoo went on, thoo - wadn’t ’a’e ti roo on i’ this fashion. Sha awlus ’ez ti roo on - at t’ finish._ - - +Rooar+, _v._ To make a loud noise when crying. - - +Rook+, _n._ A cock of clover set up to dry. - - +Rook+, _v._ To set up in small heaps. - - +Rossil+, _n._ Resin. - - +Rostle+, +Rossel+, _v._ To disturb, to shake. - - +Rouk+, _v._ To snore loudly, as pigs. - Ex.—_Ah weean’t sleep w’ him na mair, he rouks warse ’an a pig._ - - +Roughen+, _v._ To make rough. - - +Round, To get+, _v._ To cajole, to assuage. - - +Roundy+, _adj._ Of fairly good size, as compared with another - sample containing much dust and small pieces; applied to a good - sample of coal. - - +Rouped up, To be+, _v._ To be hoarse. - - +Roupy+, _adj._ Hoarse from cold. - - +Rout+, +Rowt+, _v._ To wander, to stray; to bellow loudly, as - cattle. - - +Rout about+, _v._ To turn every place out. - - +Routering tahm+, Cleaning time, house-cleaning. - - +Roving+, _adj._ Of an unsettled nature. - - +Rovven+, _pp._ Riven. - - +Row+, _v._ To form ridges in the land for setting potatoes, &c. - - +Rowan-tree+, _n._ The mountain ash (_Pyrus Aucuparia_). _Vide_ - chapter on ‘Witchcraft.’ - - +Rownd+, _Vide_ +Raun+. - - +Rowty+, _adj._ Rank. - - +Roy+, +Roy on+, _v._ To lead a fast life. - Ex.—_If he roys on leyke yon, he’ll seean ’a’e ti spell want._ - - +Royously+, _adv._ Extravagantly. - - +Rud+, _n._ Red ochre, also ruddle. - - +Rud-stake+, _n._ The post to which a cow or ox is fastened when - in its stall. - - +Rue+, _v._ To alter one’s mind after making a bargain. - - +Rue-bargain+, _n._ A sum of money paid to cancel a bargain. - - +Ruffle+, _v._ To rub or raise the skin. - - +Rumbustical+, _adj._ Noisy, rough in play. - - +Runch+, _n._ The charlock (_Sinapis arvensis_). - - +Rung+, _n._ The step of a ladder. - - +Runnel+, _v._ A small stream of water, the channel it runs in, a - funnel. - - +Run out+, _adj._ Exhausted, impoverished. - - +Runty+, _n._ Short, thick-set. - - +Rush+, _n._ A large concourse of people. - - +Russelled+, _Vide_ +Rasselled+. - - +Rutterkin+, _n._ A sly old fellow. - - +Rutting+, _n._ The sound made by deer during the pairing season. - - +Ruttle+, _v._ and _n._ To breathe with a rattling, gurgling sound, - as when suffering from bronchitis, or when dying. Hence _t’ deeath - ruttle’s setten in, it’ll seean be owered wiv him noo._ - - +Rutty+, _adj._ A road deeply furrowed by cart-ruts. - - - S. - - +‘S+, Is, has, or as. - - +S’+, _v._ Shall. - - +Sa+, _Vide_ +Seea+. - - +S’aan’t+, _v._ Shall not. - - +Sack, To get the+, _v._ To be turned out of or lose a situation, - to be dismissed. - - +Sackless+, _adj._ Lacking common sense, foolish. - - +Sad+, _adj._ Heavy, as badly-risen bread, damp. - - +Sadden+, _v._ To make firm by stamping, treading, &c. - Ex.—_Sae monny fooak tramping on t’ land sairly saddens ’t._ - - +Sadly+, _adv._ Very much. - Ex.—_It sadly wants deeaing_, i.e. ‘It wants doing very much.’ - _Ah sadly wanted her ti stop a bit langer._ - - +Sadly begone+, _adj._ Surprised and distressed at the same time. - - +Sadly ta’en in+, _adv._ Very much deceived. - Ex.—_Ah’ve been sadly ta’en in wiv ’em._ - - +Sae+, _Vide_ +Seea+. - - +Safe+, +Seeaf+, _adj._ and _adv._ Certain, without doubt. - Ex.—_Ah’s seeaf ti cum_, i.e. ‘I am certain to come.’ _Safe - eneeaf he did it_, i.e. ‘Without doubt he did it.’ - - +Sag+, _v._ To hang lower in the middle than at either end, as a - rope. - - +Sahded by+, +Sided by+, _pp._ Buried. - Ex.—_It’s owered wiv him noo, wa’ve gitten him sahded by._ - - +Saim+, +Saam+, _n._ Lard. - - +Sair+, _adj._ Sore, in all its senses. - Ex.—_Wa’ve ’ed a sair tahm_, i.e. ‘a sad time.’ _It’s varra sair - news_, i.e. ‘sorrowful.’ _T’ lad’s gitten a naisty sair spot_, - i.e. ‘sore.’ - - +Sair+, +Sairly+, _adv._ Sorely, greatly, extremely; used as an - intensive. - Ex.—_Sha’ll be sairly missed, will Jane. It war a sair mannish’d - job. Sha sairly wanted ti git yam._ - - +Sam+, _v._ 1. To cause milk to curdle, to coagulate. - 2. To gather in a hurry. - 3. To pack things carelessly. - Ex.—2. _Ah samm’d all t’ lot tigither iv a twinklin’._ - 3. _Sam ’em in onnyhoo._ - - +Sammer+, _adj._ Larger than usual. - - +Santer+, _v._ To loiter, to walk slowly. - - +Sappy+, _adj._ Heavy, sodden. - - +Sap-tree+, _n._ The rowan-tree. - - +Sark+, _n._ A shirt or chemise. - - +Sarten+, _adj._ Certain. - - +Sarve+, _v._ 1. To feed cattle. - 2. To pay back revengefully. - Ex.—1. _Thoo mun sarve t’ pigs._ - 2. _Ah’ll sarve him oot foor ’t._ - - +Sattle+, _v._ To settle, usually followed by ‘down’; to feel at - home. - Ex.—_Ah s’ sattle efter a bit. Oha, he’s sattled doon neycely._ - - +Sattle one’s hash, To+, To completely discomfit. - Ex.—_If sha sez owt ti me Ah’ll seean sattle her hash, an’ tell - her her neeam fur nowt an’ all; sha’d best leeak oot_. - - +Sauce+, _n._ and _v._ An impudent answer. - Ex.—_Ah tell’d her what Ah thowt, an’ sha sauced ma back ageean - leyke all that._ - - +Sau’t+, _n._ Salt. - - +Sau’t-kit+, _n._ Salt-box. - - +Sauve+, _n._ Ointment. - - +Sauve+, _v._ 1. To cajole. - 2. To apply ointment. - Ex.—1. _Thoo mun sauve him ower byv talking neycely._ - - +Savelicks+, _n._ Canker of the dog-rose. - - +Saw-cum+, +-com+, or +-coom+, _n._ Sawdust. - - +Saw-hoss+, _n._ A saw-pit, or the arrangement of two tressels upon - which the wood to be sawn is rested. - - +Say+, _n._ 1. Power, influence. - 2. Opinion. - Ex.—1. _T’ parson ’ez t’ maist say ov onnybody hereabouts._ - 2. _Noo let me saay mah saay noo_, i.e. ‘Now let me express my - opinion now.’ - - +Say+, _v._ To control or influence. - Ex.—_Ther’s neea saying onny o’ Martha’s bairns. Ah caan’t saay - t’ dog._ - - +Scacelings+, _adv._ Scarcely. - - +Scaldered, To be+, _v._ To have an unhealthy skin, so that the - surface comes off in scales. Children’s heads are often said to - be scaldered when suffering from dandruff. - - +Scalderings+, _n._ Nodules of half-burnt lime. - - +Scale+, +Scaling+, _v._ To scatter or spread, as manure; to cause - the milk to be absorbed in the female breast. - - +Scale-dish+, _n._ A shallow metal pan used to skim milk. - - +Scallibrat+, _n._ A passionate, noisy child. - - +Scamp+, _v._ To execute work in a dishonest manner, not paying - attention to details which are hidden from view. - - +Scar+, _n._ The face of a precipitous rock, or the rock itself. - - +Scart+, _v._ Frightened. - - +Scaud+, _n._ and _v._ A scold, a vixenish woman. - - +Scaud-heead+, _n._ Applied both to dandruff and ringworm. - - +Scau’p+, _n._ The head, the skull, the bare spots of rock and - stones on a hillside. - - +Sconce+, _n._ 1. A screen, usually lined with tin, which is kept - very bright so as to reflect; this is placed in front of any - joint roasting before the fire. - 2. Hence the usage of the word in the sense of a ‘ruse,’ - ‘deception,’ i.e. a screen to hide one’s real intentions. - Ex.—2. _He aim’d at wa s’u’d think ’at he’d cum’d ti see t’ au’d - chap, bud it war nowt bud a sconce ti finnd oot what wa’d - gitten i’ t’ hoos._ The word is also used in the sense of - ‘tale-bearing’ in such a way as either to hide one’s own fault - or to obtain one’s own ends. - - +Scopperil+, _n._ A teetotum, a pierced bone button with a wooden - peg through it. - - +Scourging top+, +Scurgy+, _n._ A whipping-top. - - +Scow+, _n._ Confusion, hurried and somewhat disorganized - preparation for an expected event, bustle with confusion. - - +Scowder+, +Scowderment+, _n._ Confusion. - - +Scraffle+, _v._ To struggle, to strive. - Ex.—_Ah mannished ti scraffle thruff’t, bud Ah s’all tak t’ - hedge t’ next tahm. Sha’s deean mair ’an weel ti scraffle on - wi’ a family leyke yon._ - - +Scrag-cauf+, _n._ A name applied to females whose legs are very - thin. - - +Scraggy+, _adj._ Lean. - - +Scran+, _n._ Food. - - +Scranky+, _adj._ Very lank. - - +Scrannel+, _adj._ Poor, worthless. - - +Scrap+, _v._ and _n._ To quarrel. - - +Scrape+, _n._ Misfortune, trouble. - - +Scrape the tongue, To+, _v._ To speak affectedly. - - +Scrat+, _v._ and _n._ 1. To scratch. - 2. A scraping together of one’s belongings by hard toil. - Ex.—2. _Yan gits yan’s things scratted tigither oddly by_ - _tahms. Neeaboddy’s made a harder scrat foor what tha’ve - gitten ’an Lisa Jane._ - - +Scrat+, _n._ A miser, the itch. - - +Scrat, Au’d+, _n._ The devil. - - +Scrawm+, _v._ To scratch irregular marks on any surface, to grope - about in the dark. - - +Scrawmy+, _adj._ Straggly, irregular, unshapely. - - +Scrawmy cauf+, _n._ A badly shaped leg. _adj._ +Scrawmy-cauf’d.+ - _Ex.—Mah wo’d, bud Polly war sairly flowter’d when Ah dropped on - her shauming, ant Ah seeaa sha’d neea call ti be, fer sha’s - owt bud a scrawmy-cauf’d un._ - - +Screed+, _v._ To run a line or border on the edge of anything. - - +Screed+, _n._ A shred, the border or edge of any material. - - +Screeve+, _v._ To mark with a screever. - - +Screever+, _n._ A small pointed steel tool used to mark metal, - &c.; the sound produced by such marking. - - +Scriggle+, _v._ To twist about. - - +Scrimp+, _adj._ 1. Niggardly. - 2. Scant. - 3. Short. - Ex.—1. _It war nobbut a scrimpy do._ - 2. _It war a varra scrimpy set oot._ - 3. _Did ta run sho’t o’ stuff? T’ sket nobbut seems scrimpy an’ - sho’tish at t’ back._ - - +Scrogs+, _n._ Stunted bushes or shrubs. - - +Scrout+, _v._ To lengthen, as the days. - - +Scrow+ and +Scrowing+. _Vide_ +Scow+. - - +Scruff+, _n._ Scurf, either on the skin or head; scum, hence ‘the - rabble.’ - - +Scruffle+, +Scruffling+, _v._ 1. To push, strive, to put on one - side by force, as pushing through a crowd. - 2. To weed turnips. - Ex.—1. _Ah’d a despert scruffle afoor Ah gat inti t’ tent. - Neeabody teeak na notish o’ neeabody, bud iverybodd scruffled - t’ best waay tha c’u’d, whahl wa war all scruffling tigither._ - - +Scruffle+, _n._ A quarrel accompanied with a struggle, an unruly - crowd. - - +Scruffler+, _n._ A hoe for weeding turnip rows. Formerly it was - fashioned from an old horse-shoe fixed to a long handle. - - +Scuff+, _n._ The nape of the neck. - - +Scuff+, _v._ To seize or shake by holding the neck. - - +Scumfish+, _v._ To oppress with either heat, smoke, or foul air. - - +Scut+ or +Scud+, _v._ To run away. - - +Scutter+, _v._ To run away quickly. - - +Scutters+, _n._ Diarrhoea. - - +Scuttle+, _n._ An open rough-made basket considerably narrowing - towards the bottom, and used to gather potatoes in, &c. - - +Sea-fret+, _n._ Fine rain, usually commencing with the rise of - the tide. - - +Seagling+, _part._ Sauntering. - - +Sea-tang+, _n._ Sea-weed or wrack (_Laminaria digitata_). - - +Seddle+, _n._ The wrist-bone. - - +Seea+, +Sae+, +Sa+, +Soa+, +Sooa+, _adv._ So. - - +Seear+, +Shower+, _adj._ and _adv._ Sure. - - +Seed+, _pf. part._ of ‘Saw.’ - - +Seed-lip+, _n._ The basket from which the seed corn is cast when - thrown on the land. - - +Seeing-glass+, _n._ A looking-glass. - - +Seeve+, +Seeave+, _n._ The common rushes (_Juncus effusus_ and - _conglomeratus_). - - +Seet+, _adj._ Considerable, many. - Ex.—_Ther war a seet main fooak theear ’an what Ah thowt ther’d - be. He’s a seet better ’an what Ah leeak’d foor._ - - +Segged+, _v._ To be distended, swollen, accompanied by hardness. - - +Seggrums+, _n._ Common ragwort. - - +Seggy+, _adj._ Second. - Ex.—_Bags Ah seggy_, i.e. ‘Second turn.’ - - +Segs+, _n._ A name applied somewhat loosely to several rushes and - flags. - - +Sen+, +Sin+, _adv._ Since. - - +Servers+, _n._ Females, generally two in number, who hand the cake, - biscuits, and wine to mourners and others at a burial. - - +Set+, _v._ To accompany any one either the whole or a short way on - a journey. - Ex.—_Tommy set ma ivver sae fur. He put t’ meer in an’ set ma all - t’ waay. Ah’ve setten her ti t’ deearstan._ - - +Set+, _v._ To arrange or settle a price. - Ex.—_Setten at that price, he’d nivver git his awn ageean. Ah’ve - setten it at less na what Ah aimed ti git._ - - +Set a day, To+, _v._ To fix a definite appointment. - - +Set agate+, _v._ To set in motion, to start work, to put into - action. _Vide_ +Agate+. - - +Set in+, _adj._ Applied to dirt on the clothes or skin of long - standing; commenced and likely to continue. - - +Set on+, +Setten on+, _v._ To burn in the pan when cooking, - especially when milk is used. _adj._ Small, stunted in growth. - - +Set on knees+, _v._ To kneel. - - +Set-pot+, _n._ A large iron cauldron fixed in brickwork. - - +Set-teea+, _n._ A fight. - Ex.—_Let ’em ’ev a set-teea, an’ then tha’ll git it sattled. - Bob’s ’ed a set-teea wi’ Billy._ - - +Set teea+, +Set on+, _v._ To begin or cause to begin. - Ex.—_Thoo mun set teea at yance, an’ Ah’ll set Tom on ti morn at - morn._ - - +Setter+, _n_. A seton. Also _v._ To insert, &c. - - +Settle+, _n._ _Vide_ +Lang settle+. - - +Settled+, _v._ To be decided, satisfied, contented. - _Vide_ +Sattle+. - Ex.—_Ah’ve sattled that point lang sen. Ah’s nobbut hauf sattled - wi’ t’ waay things is gahin’ on, an’ Ah s’aan’t feel sattled - whahl Ah’ve been ti see foor mysen._ - - +Set up+, _v._ To greatly delight. - - +Sez+, _v._ Says. - Ex.—_If sha sez ’at thoo sez what thoo sez sha sez, sha sez - what’s wrang._ - - +Shabby+, _adj._ Disagreeable, unpleasant as to weather. - Ex.—_Wa nobbut ’ed a shabby hay-tahm ti year._ - - +Shackle+, _n._ The wrist. - - +Shade+, _n._ A wooden or lightly constructed building, a shed. - - +Shades+, _n._ Lace curtains. - - +Shaff+, _n._ Sheaf. - - +Shaffle+, _v._ To shuffle in walking, to evade by subterfuge, to - be undecided. - - +Shaft+, _n._ A handle, as of a fork, rake, hoe, axe. - - +Shaft+, _v._ To fix a handle to anything. - - +Shak+, _v._ To shake. - - +Shak-bag+ or +-back+, _n._ An untrustworthy fellow. - - +Shake+, _n._ A split or crack in furniture. - - +Shak-fork+, _n._ The fork used for lifting and shaking the - thrashed straw. - - +Shak-ripe+, _adj._ So ripe that shaking will cause the fruit to - fall. Anything likely to fall either from a shake or wind. - - +Shanks’ nag+, +Shanks’ pony+, _n._ One’s own legs as a means of - going from place to place. - Ex.—_Ah s’all ’a’e ti gan on Shanks’ pony_, i.e. ‘I shall have - to walk.’ - - +Shap+, +Shaape+, _v._ 1. To show good judgement. - 2. To give promise. - Ex.—1. _He shaps weel ti deea ’t, diz t’ lad._ - 2. _It shaps ti mak a good un._ - - +Sharp+, _v._ To insert nails or screws in a horse’s shoe during - frosty weather. - - +Sharp+, _adj._ Quick, smart, intelligent. - Ex.—1. _Noo gan ez sharp ez thoo can_, i.e. ‘quick.’ - 2. _Noo that war a sharp trick ti deea_, i.e. ‘smart.’ - 3. _He’s a sharp lad that_, i.e. ‘intelligent.’ - - +Sharps+, _n._ Flour with the admixture of bran. - - +Shaum+, _v._ To warm the legs and knees by sitting close to the - fire; in the case of females, with the skirts, &c., pulled above - the knees. - - +Shear+, _v._ To cut corn with a sickle. - - +Shearling+, _n._ A sheep of the first year from the time of - shearing. - - +Sheep-ked+ or +-keead+, _n._ A sheep-tick. - - +Shell+, _n._ A slide. _v._ To slide. - - +Shelvings+, _n._ Wooden frames fixed on either side of a cart to - increase the size. - - +Shift+, _v._ To remove from one house to another, to change one’s - clothes, to move. - - +Shift+, _n._ A chemise. - - +Shifty+, _adj._ Deceitful, crafty. - - +Shill+, _n._ Scum of anything left to stand. - - +Shill+, _v._ 1. To shell, as peas, &c. - 2. To cause to curdle so that the whey and curds separate. - 3. To make a noise something between a howl and a whistle. - Ex.—3. _Mah wo’d, bud t’ wind did shill roond t’ chetch last neet. - Its nobbut a feeal ’at trimm’ls when t’ wind shills._ - - +Shills+, _n._ Shafts of a cart. - - +Shine+, _n._ The pupil of the eye; a disturbance, a quarrel. - - +Shinnop+, _v._ To play at hockey. - - +Shinny+, _n._ Hockey. - - +Shippy+, or +Ship starnel+, _n._ The starling. - - +Shiv+, _n._ A husk of corn. - - +Shive+, _n._ A slice. - - +Shoe+, _n._ The drag applied to the wagon or cart wheel when - descending a hill. - - +Shog+, _v._ To shake, to be slowly driven along with a jolting - motion. - - +Shoggle+, _v._ To shake with unsteady motion. - - +Shogglin+, _n._ An icicle. - - +Sholl+, _n._ Slide. _v._ To idle. - - +Shool+, _n._ A shovel. - - +Shoon+, _n._ Pl. of ‘Shoe.’ - - +Shoot+, _v._ 1. To shout. Often implies to call without raising - the voice. - 2. To break into ear (of corn). - Ex.—1. _Shoot on him, he’s i’ t’ next room._ - - +Shot+, +Shut+, _v._ To be freed from, rid, clear of. - Ex.—_Hez ta gitten shut on him?_ i.e. ‘Have you got rid of him?’ - _Ah’ve gitten shot o’ that claim_, i.e. ‘I have got clear of - that claim.’ - - +Sho’t+, _adj._ Short, hasty. - Ex.—_Saay neea mair, leeave that sho’t_, i.e. ‘Don’t tell or - explain the whole.’ _Ah thowt ’at he war a bit sho’t wi’ ma_, - i.e. ‘a trifle hasty.’ - - +Shot-ice+, _n._ Sheets of ice. - - +Shovven-string+, _n._ Boot-lace. - - +Shrag+, _v._ To lop, to trim. - - +Shrift+, _n._ The condition of an animal’s coat after having been - kept on soft food in the open during winter; on beginning to - better its condition it sheds its coat. - - +Shudder+, +Shuther+, _v._ To shake, to tremble. - Ex.—_Yah crack o’ thunner made all shuther ageean._ - - +Shut+, _v._ To shoot with a gun, to put out or shoot out, to quit. - - +Shuttance+, _n._ Riddance. - Ex.—_Tha’ve gane, an’ good shuttance tiv ’em_, i.e. ‘They have - gone, and good riddance to them.’ - - +Shutters+, _n._ A shooting party. - - +Shy+, _adj._ Bitter and piercing (of the wind). - - +Sich+, _adv._ So. - - +Side-lang+, _v._ To fasten the fore and hind foot of a sheep - together to prevent its straying. - - +Side up+, _v._ To put in order, to tidy. - - +Side-wipe+, _n._ Censure, conveyed by innuendo. - - +Sidling+, _adj._ Fawning, servile. - Ex.—_He awlus sidles an’ maks up ti fresh fooak, bud he’s a - sidling sooart ov a chap._ - - +Sie+, _n._ A fine sieve to strain milk, a spot, a stain left by - anything falling in drops. - - +Sie+, _v._ To strain milk. - - +Sike+, _adj._ Such. - - +Sikan+, _adj._ Such (used before a vowel). - - +Sike-like+, _adj._ Such-like, so forth, similar. - - +Sile+, _n._ A strainer. - - +Sile-brigg+, _n._ The wooden frame upon which the sile rests when - used. - - +Sill-horse+, _n._ The shaft horse. - - +Sin+, _adv._ Since. - - +Sink-hoal+, _n._ A dug-out or other hollow place in which the - drainage from a midden-stead collects, or water from the sink. - - +Sinter-santer+, _v._ To idle, to dawdle. - - +Sipe+, _v._ To soak through, to drain away slowly, to sink away. - - +Sippel+, _n._ A thin slice of anything. - - +Sipper-sauces+, _n._ Dainty dishes. - - +Siss+, _v._ To hiss, as water dropping on the fire; to spit (of a - cat); to hiss like a goose. - - +Sitfast+, _n._ The hard cyst of a wound or boil. - - +Sitha+, pronounced _Si-tha_. Calls attention to. It is a - corruption of ‘seest thou.’ Sutha originally was ‘saw thou.’ - ‘Sitha’ and ‘sutha’ are equally common. - - +Sit up on end, To+, _v._ To sit up. - Ex.—_He’s mending grandly; whya, he’s sitting up on end i’ bed._ - - +Sizzapur+, _n._ A heavy blow. As an _adj._ Large of its kind. - - +Skaff+, +Skeeaf+, _n._ A rough, steep, broken bank. - - +Skare on+, _v._ To overlap or splice. - - +Skate+, _v._ To turn sharp round. - - +Skaum+, _Vide_ +Skime+. - - +Skeeal+, _n._ School. - - +Skeel+, _n._ A large wooden milk-pail. - - +Skeg+, _n._ A glance, a cast of the eye. - - +Skel-beast+, _n._ Wooden partitions in the cow byre. - - +Skell+, _v._ To tilt, to raise up one end of anything, to shriek - out. - - +Skell up+, +Skell ower+, _v._ To upset, by the lifting of one end - or side too high. - - +Skeller+, _v._ To squint. - - +Skellered+, _adj._ Bent by heat, as the covers of a book held too - near the fire. - - +Skelly+, _n._ A squint. - - +Skelp+, +Skelping+, _n._ A thrashing. _adj._ Quickly, with great - speed. - Ex.—1. _Ah gav’ him a skelp._ - 2. _He did gan wiv a skelp._ - - +Skelp+, _v._ 1. To strike with the open palm. - 2. To move quickly. - Ex.—1. _Noo Ah’ll skelp tha._ - 2. _He skelp’d off yam t’ minit he seed ma._ - - +Skelper+, _n._ +Skelping+, _adj._ Huge. - - +Skep+, _n._ A basket made from either flags or willows. - - +Sket+, _n._ A skirt. - - +Skew+, _v._ To twist round or about, to wrench. - Ex.—_Sha skews hersen aboot warse ’an nowt. Skew ’t off if t’ - weean’t pull oot._ - - +Skid+, _n._ The iron shoe used as a brake. - - +Skid+, _v._ To fix the iron shoe to the wheel. - - +Skill+, _v._ To understand, to unravel. - Ex.—_It’s putten tigither queerly, it’s a bit of a rum un ti - skill. It’s a queer taal, can ta skill ’t?_ - - +Skillet+, +Skellit+, _n._ A small pot for the fire with a long - handle. - - +Skime+, +Skaum+, _v._ To droop the eyelids, to scowl. - Ex.—_Oppen thi e’es, an’ deean’t gan skauming aboot leyke that. - Noo leeak pleasant, an’ dean’t skaum._ - - +Skimmering+, _adj._ Bright, sparkling, brilliant. _v._ Shining - brightly. - - +Skiny+, _adj._ Greedy. - - +Skirl+, _v._ To scream. - - +Skirtling+, _n._ The lower and dressed part of a haystack. - - +Skirts, A pair of+, _n._ Petticoat. - - +Skite, To take one’s+, _v._ To leave quickly. - Ex.—_Ah heeard what he’d gitten ti saay, an’ then Ah teeak my - skite._ - - +Skit+, _v._ To sneer at, to make fun of. - - +Skit+, _n._ A remark, or printed matter of a personal character. - - +Skivvers+, _n._ Wooden skewers. - - +Skrike+, _v._ To screech. - - +Skrimp+, _Vide_ +Scrimp+. - - +Slabby+, _Vide_ +Sleazy+. - - +Slack+, _adj._ Slow, lacking go or briskness. - Ex.—_It war nobbut slack deed. T’ market war varra slack._ - - +Slack+, _n._ A small valley. - - +Slafter+, _n._ Slaughter. - - +Slafter-hoos+, _n._ Slaughter-house. - - +Slain+, +Sleean+, _n._ The smut blight of wheat - (_Ustilago segetum_). - - +Slair+, _v._ To idle away one’s time. - - +Slairy+, _adj._ Untidy, sluttish. - - +Slaister+, _v._ To do anything in an idle, slovenly manner; to - scamp work; to flog with a whip or cane. - - +Slaisterer+, _n._ An idle, slovenly fellow. - - +Slake+, _v._ To lick; to cleanse imperfectly by just wetting and - rubbing, as licking a slate. - - +Slake+, _n._ A lick, a pretence of cleaning. - Ex.—_Ah just gav’ things a slake ower._ - - +Slap+, _v._ To spill. - Ex.—_Thoo’ll slap ’t if thoo hugs it leyke that, an’ if thoo diz - slap ’t Ah’ll slap tha foor slapping ’t._ - - +Slap+, _v._ To go or do anything quickly, to be energetic. - Ex.—_He went slap at it ez if he meant it. Ah’ll run slap ower - at yance._ - - +Slape+, _adj._ Slippery; smooth, as applied to even or polished - surfaces; untrustworthy, crafty. - - +Slape-feeaced+, _adj._ Applied to a hypocrite. - - +Slape-fingered+, _adj._ Butter-fingered. - - +Slapen+, _v._ To make slippery, to open the bowels by laxatives. - - +Slape-scalp+ or +-scaup+. A hypocrite. - - +Slape-shod+, _adj._ Shoes, especially of horses, are said to be - ‘slape-shod’ when much worn and smooth. - Ex.—_Is ta slape-shod? Neea, Ah’ve just gitten sharp’d._ - - +Slape-t’unged+, _adj._ Plausible. - - +Slappy+, _adj._ Sloppy, puddly, wet. - - +Slaps+, _n._ Slops. - - +Slap-stone+ or +-steean+, _n._ The kitchen sink. - - +Slap up+, _v._ To eat or drink in a hurry. - - +Slap-up+, _adj._ First-class, exceedingly good. - Ex.—_He’s gitten a slap-up t’on-oot. Noo that’s a slap-upper if - ya leyke._ - - +Slathery+, _adj._ Continued, as applied to wet weather; puddly, - of the roads. The word as used often embodies both ideas. - - +Slating+, _n._ Scolding. - Ex.—_Ah gat sike a slating foor brecking t’ winder._ - - +Slattery+, _adj._ Slovenly. - - +Slaup+, _v._ To eat and drink with the mouth too full. - - +Slaverment+, _n._ Insincerity, fawning, hypocrisy. - - +Sleave+, _v._ To twist. To ‘sleave’ a lass is to put one’s arm - round her waist. - - +Sleaved+, _part._ Twisted. - - +Sleazy+, _adj._ Badly made, slight, unsubstantial. - - +Sleck+, _v._ To quench one’s thirst, to quench fire by pouring - water on it, to remove the caustic element from lime. - - +Sleck+, _n._ Drink. - Ex.—_That’s all reet foor them ’at can deea wi’ ‘t, bud Ah leyke - a sup o’ beer foor a sleck._ - - +Sled+, _n._ A sledge. - - +Slem+, _adj._ Bad, applied to work put together badly. - - +Slem+, _v._ To do work imperfectly, to slur over, to hide work by - an outer covering. Its usage is a trifle loose. - Ex.—_Ah slemm’d it ower wi’ pent._ - - +Slew+, _v._ To swerve, to turn or twist round. In the passive, to - be intoxicated. - - +Slidder+ } - +Slither+ } _v._ 1. To slide. - 2. To disappear unobserved. - Ex.—1. _He set hissel on t’ top ov a larl bit of a sled, an’ - went slithering doon t’ hill leyke all that._ - - +Sliddery+ } _adj._ Slippery. - +Slithery+ } - - +Slinky+, _adj._ Inclined to act evasively. - - +Slip+, _v._ 1. To forget. - 2. To go, to come. - Ex.—1. _It slipt my mahnd ez cleean ez nowt._ - 2. _Slip ower ti Bob an’ tell him ti slip ower ti me_, i.e. ‘Go - to Robert’s and tell him to come to me.’ - - +Slip+, _n._ A pinafore. - - +Slipe+, _v._ To strip off an outer covering, as bark, with a rapid - action. - - +Slirt+, _v._ To squirt water. - - +Sloke+, _n._ Slime on the surface of stagnant water. - - +Slope+, _v._ To dishonestly evade payment, to defraud; to abscond, - leaving one’s debts unpaid. - - +Slosh+, _n._ Melted snow or mud. - - +Sloshy+, _adj._ Applied to a condition of general thaw. - - +Slot+, _n._ A slit in a garment for a tape to be run through. - - +Slot+, _v._ To slam. - Ex.—_Ah sed nowt, bud just slotted t’ deear iv his feeace._ - - +Slough+, +Sluff+, _n._ The outer skin, especially of fruit, as the - gooseberry. - - +Slowdy+, _adj._ Flabby, soft; applied to fish out of condition and - season. - - +Sluddery+, +Sluthery+, _adj._ Applied to melted snow and mud. - - +Slummer+, _v._ To sleep almost in a comatose state. - - +Slush+, _Vide_ +Slosh+. - - +Slutherment+, _n._ Any slimy, viscid matter. - - +Sluthery+, _adj._ Having to the touch a feeling of slime or viscid - matter. - - +Sly-cakes+, _n._ Ordinary looking cakes, but filled with fruits. - - +Smally+, _adj._ Puny, thin, undergrown. - - +Smatch+, _n._ A savour, a trifle, a small portion. - - +Smeark+, _v._ To half smile. - - +Smere+, _n._ The membrane covering the nostrils of a foal at birth. - - +Smiddy+, _n._ A blacksmith’s shop. - - +Smiddy-oom+, _n._ The sweepings of a blacksmith’s bench and floor. - - +Smit+, _n._ Infection. - - +Smit+, +Smitch+, _n._ Fine particles of soot which fall from the - smoke of the chimney. - - +Smitting+, _adj._ Infectious. - - +Smittle+, _v._ To infect. - - +Smock+, _n._ A chemise. - - +Smoor+, +Smurr+, _v._ To smother, suffocate. - - +Smoot+, _v._ To partially hide the face. - - +Smooth+, _v._ To iron clothes. - - +Smooth-feeaced+, _adj._ Bashful. - - +Smoot-hoal+, +Smoot-hole+, _n._ A hole, varying in size, in a - hedge or wall; e.g. a rabbit smoot, a sheep smoot. - - +Smoot-steean+, _n._ A slab or stone used to stop a smoot-hole. - - +Smudge+, _v._ To smear; to emit smoke, but without any flames - visible. - - +Snaffling+, _v._ To speak through the nose. - - +Snag+, _v._ To cut the branches from felled trees, to top and tail - turnips. - - +Snahl+, _n._ Snail. - - +Snake-steean+, _n._ An ammonite. - - +Snarly+, _adj._ Biting, chilling (of the wind). - - +Snavvie+, _Vide_ +Snaffling+. - - +Sneb+, _v._ To rebuke. - - +Sneck+, _n._ The fastening of a gate or door. - - +Sneck+, _v._ To fasten, to latch. - Ex.—_Noo think on an’ sneck all t’ yats._ - - +Sneeap+, _v._ To check, to put down. - Ex.—_Ya caan’t sneeap ’em, an’ they weean’t be snebbed, an’ - neeabody’s gitten neea saay ower ’em at all, an’ if yan diz - call ’em, tha deea nowt bud snifter, snitter, an’ gen at yan._ - - +Snicker+, _Vide_ +Snitter+. - - +Snickle+, _v._ A slip-noose of wire used as a snare. - - +Snifter+, _n._ A sniff, a smell of short duration. - Ex.—_Noo it’s varra neyce, just tak a snifter on ’t._ - - +Snifter+, _v._ To snuff up. - Ex.—_Wipe thi snoot; deean’t snifter._ - - +Snig+, _v._ To drag timber from the wood. - - +Snig-cut+, _n._ A short cut, a by-path. - - +Sniggle+, _v._ To laugh behind one’s back, to laugh derisively. - - +Snite+, _v._ To blow the nose, not necessarily with a handkerchief. - - +Snitter+, _v._ To sneer, to giggle with ill-nature and derisively. - Ex.—_Ah’ll gi’e tha summut ti snitter at if thoo dizn’t shift - thisen._ - - +Snook-snarls+, _n._ The knotty entanglements of thread, string, &c. - - +Snod+, _adj._ Smooth, neat-looking, trim. - - +Snoke+, _v._ To smell with a deep inspiration. - - +Snow-flag+, _n._ A snow-flake. - - +Snubbits+, _n._ The projecting pieces of wood at the end of a cart, - on which it rests when tilted up. - - +Snubby+, _adj._ Knotted (of wood). - - +Snudge+, +Snuggle+, +Snowzel+, _v._ To lie close together. - - +Soa+, _Vide_ +Seea+. - - +Soamy+, _adj._ Close, oppressive (of the weather). - - +Sob+, _v._ To sigh as the wind does on the approach of calmer - weather. - - +Sock+, _n._ The ploughshare. - - +Sod+, _n._ An opprobrious epithet = Ass, fool. - - +Sodden+, _v._ To soften by soaking in water. - - +Sods+, _n._ 1. Square parings of grass and earth. - 2. A lump of earth and grass. - Ex.—1. _Ah’ll hev hauf o’ t’ garden laid wi’ sods._ - 2. _Ah’ll chuck a sod at tha._ - - +Soft+, _adj._ 1. Inclined to wet weather. - 2. Silly, half-witted. - Ex.—_1. Ah’s feeard wa’s gahin’ ti ’ev a softish back-end._ - 2. _Poor bairn! is sha a larl bit soft?_ - - +Somerset+, _n._ Somersault. - - +Sooa+, _Vide_ +Seea+. - - +Sooart+, _n._ Sort, kind, quality. - - +Soond+, _v._ To faint, to sound. Also _n_. - - +Soonest+, _adj._ Quickest, nearest, shortest. - Ex.—_Ah’s gan by t’ foot brigg; it’s seeanest road. It’ll be t’ - seeanest deean i’ that waay._ - - +Sore+, _Vide_ +Sair+. - - +So so+ = That will do, enough, cease. - - +Soss+, _v._ and _n._ To fall with force into the water; to lap - water, as a dog. - - +Sough+, +Soo+, _v._ To sob, to sigh (of the wind). - - +Soup+, _v._ To soak, to drench with water. - Ex.—_Ah’s fairly souped ti t’ skin._ - - +Sour-docken+, _n._ The wild sorrel (_Rumex acetosa_). - - +Sowl+, _v._ To give a thorough rinsing in water, to chastise. - - +Sowse+, _v._ 1. To cause to be wet all over. - 2. To throw into water. - Ex.—1. _He sowsed a bucket o’ mucky watter cleean ower ma._ - 2. _Ah sowsed t’ beggar i’ t’ beck._ - - +Spade-+ or +Speead-graft+, _n._ A spade depth. - - +Spane+, +Speean+, _v._ To wean. - - +Spang+, _Vide_ +Spanker+. - - +Spank+, _v._ To strike with the open hand. - - +Spanker+, _n._ One who takes long strides; large of its kind; - hence +Spang+, _n._ A leap. - - +Spanking+, _adj._ Tall and broad, rapid. - - +Span-new+, _adj._ Quite new. - - +Sparrow-feathers+, _n._ The chaff of oats is so called when used - for beds in the place of feathers. - - +Spattle+, _n._ Spittle. - - +Speak+, _v._ Even yet the usage in an active sense of ‘to address’ - is often heard in the dales. - Ex.—_Ah seed him, bud wa didn’t speeak yan anuther. What didn’t - ta speeak her foor?_ - - +Speeak+, +Spooak+, _n._ The spoke of a wheel. - - +Speean+, _n._ A spoon. - - +Spelk+, _n._ A long thin slip of wood, a splint. - - +Spell+, _n._ A splinter of wood, the cross-bar of a ladder; a - spill, either of wood or paper; a turn at work, not necessarily - of long duration; the trap upon which the ball rests in the game - of spell and knorr. - - +Spic an’ span+, _adv._ New, clean, tidy; lit. new, from ‘spike to - span’ of a knight’s lance. Another form is ‘Bran spander new.’ - Ex.—_Ez thoo’s gahin’ ti see t’ lass foor t’ fo’st tahm, thoo - mun mak this en leeak ez spic an’ span ez a new-maad pin. - Mr. Henry war gitten up spic an’ span._ - - +Spice+, _n._ Raisins, currants, &c. - - +Spice-bread+, _n._ A cheaper form of plum-cake. - - +Spice-cake+ or +-keeak+, _n._ Plum-cake. - - +Spink+, _n._ The chaffinch, often named +Bull-spink+. - - +Spinner+, _n._ A spider’s web. Also +Spinner-web+. The latter, - however, is generally confined to the gossamer threads so - commonly found floating in the air on a summer’s evening. - - +Spit+, _n._ A long narrow spade used for draining. - - +Spittle+, _n._ A small spade. - - +Splatter+, _v._ To splash about, to make splashes. - - +Splatter-dash+, _n._ and _v._ 1. A showing-off. - 2. Commotion. - 3. To brag, to make a foolish display of wealth. - Ex.—1. _Ah caan’t bahd sike splatter-dash gahins on. It’s nowt - bud a lot o’ splatter-dash._ - 2. _Ah, what a splatter-dash ther is i’ t’ pleeace._ - - +Splatterer+, _n._ One who splashes. - - +Splauder+, _v._ 1. To sprawl, to spread out one’s limbs. - 2. To display, to be vulgarly ostentatious. Hence +Splaudered+, - +Splauderment+. - Ex.—1. _Hoo yon lass diz splauder her feet oot. Talk aboot a - splauder o’ stuff, ther war mair ti eat na wa c’u’d ’a’e - mannish’d if wa’d ’ed tweea goes apiece._ - - +Splaudy+, _adj._ Wide-spreading. - - +Splaws+, _n._ Pen-nibs. - - +Splet+, +Split+, _v._ To tell of one’s doings, to break confidence. - - +Splutter+, _n._ Bustle, excitement, nervousness. - Ex.—_Deean’t git i’ sike a splutter, wa’ve endless o’ tahm. - Didn’t sha git intiv a splutter when sha heeard what Jin Ann - ’ed sed aboot her!_ - - +Sponge+, _n._ Leaven, a portion of leavened dough saved from each - baking to raise the next week’s kneading with. - - +Sponge+, _v._ To swell and froth as a dead body. - - +Spool+, _n._ The wooden reel upon which thread is wound. - - +Spout+, _n._ A small waterfall. - - +Spraggy+, _adj._ Thin, bony, having many sharp projections. - - +Spraints+, _n._ Otter’s dung. - - +Spreead+, _v._ Spread. - - +Spreead+, _n._ Abundance of food and of extra quality. - Ex.—_Ah nivver war at sikan a spreead afoor, ther war ommaist - ivverything ya c’u’d think on_ (imagine). - - +Sprent+, +Sprint+, _v._ To sprinkle, to spurt, to cause water to - fly about by compression or striking the surface sharply. - Ex.—_Mary Jin’s slapt t’ slap-hoal wiv her battledooar, an’ ‘s - sprented ma all ower wi’ blash an’ sluthery muckment._ - - +Sprent+, _n._ A spot or mark left by a splash. - - +Spring+, _v._ ‘To spring’ is applied to cows when near calving. - - +Sprunt+, _n._ 1. Short, stiff, lively. - 2. A steep road, a hill. - Ex.—1. _Ya’ll mannish ti trunn’l yersen t’ best hauf o’ t’ waay, - bud efter that ya’ll finnd it a bit sprunt_ (said to a cyclist). - - +Spurrings+, _n._ The banns. - - +Squab+, _n._ A rude long settle with cushions, usually with only - one arm. - - +Square up, To+, _v._ To settle an account or dispute. - - +Squary+, _adj._ Compact, both as to size and shape. - Ex.—_It’s a neyce squary kitchen. It’s just sich an (sikan) a - squary bit ez Ah want._ - - +Stack-bar+, _n._ A hurdle. - - +Stack-garth+, +Stagg’ath+, _n._ The stack-yard. - - +Stack-prod+, _n._ A stick used in thatching, being pointed and - thrust into the stack. The string is wound round it in such a - way, from prod to prod, as to hold the _thack-bands_ secure. - - +Staddle+, _n._ The foundation of cross-beams upon which a stack - is built, the stain left after washing out the producing cause. - - +Staddling+, _n._ A foundation of brushwood, brackens, &c., to - build the stack upon. - - +Stag+, _n._ A gelding over a year old. - - +Stagnated+, _part._ Much bewildered, astonished. - Ex.—_T’ whoal lot on uz wur stagnated._ - - +Staith+, _n._ and _v._ An embankment; to protect land from - overflowing of water by an embankment. - - +Staithe+, +Steeath+, +Steers+, _n._ A landing-place. - - +Stakker+, _v._ To stagger. - - +Stall+, _v._ To eat until satiated, to tire out, to weary. - - +Stan’+, +Stand+, _v._ 1. To stand. - 2. To be responsible for; - to agree to maintain, uphold. - 3. To stop, as a clock. - 4. Remains. - 5. Holds. - Ex.—2. _Ah’ll stand tiv all he diz. Thoo said thoo wad, an’ - thoo’ll ’a’e ti stan’ ti ’t noo._ - 4. _That’ll stand good_, i.e. ‘That is settled.’ - 5. _It stands a good chance ti win._ - - +Stand again+, _v._ To withstand, oppose. - Ex.—_Thoo maun’t aim ti stan’ agaan what’s deean._ - - +Stand for+, _v._ To act as sponsor. - - +Standing+, _n._ The stall for a horse or cow. - - +Stand-ups+, _n._ God-parents. - - +Stane+, +Steean+, _n._ A stone. - - +Stang+, _n._ A pole or stake. - - +Stang, To ride the+, _Vide_ chapter on ‘Customs.’ - - +Stape+, _v._ To slope, to incline. - - +Stapple+, _n._ A staple. - - +Stark+, _adj._ Stiff, unyielding, powerful. The Danish word - _stærk_ means being strong, possessing strength. Hence ‘Stark mad’ - is quite correct. - Ex.—_Thoo’s starched t’ things whahl they’re ez stark ez a - booard._ A very common redundancy is _Stiff stark steean deead_. - - +Starken+, _v._ To become stiff. _adv._ +Starkly.+ - - +Star-slubber+ or +-blubber+, _n._ Frog-spawn. - - +Start+, _n._ Work, employment. - Ex.—_He sez ’at he’ll gi’e tha a start. Ah’ve gitten a start at - a pund a week._ - - +Start+, _v._ 1. To begin. - 2. To set going. - Ex.—1. _Ah’ll start wi’ t’ job ti morn. He started off a gay bit - sen. Tha’ve started a pianner, ’ez t’ fooak next doour._ - 2. _Ah’ll start it fur tha._ - - +Starvatious+, _adj._ Cold, very chilly. - Ex.—_No’thallerton station’s t’ maist starvatious spot onnywheear._ - - +Starve+, _v._ In the passive voice, to suffer from cold; in the - active voice, to cause hunger. - - +Staup+, _v._ To walk about clumsily. - Ex.—_Sha staups aboot that okkad whahl sha’ll tumm’l ower her - shadder sum daay._ - - +Stead+, +Steead+, _n._ Common as a suffix, denoting the exact - place, as homestead, yat-stead, middin-stead, deear- or - dooar-steead, &c. - - +Steck+, _v._ To close and fasten a door or gate. - - +Stee+, +Stey+, +Stegh+, _n._ A ladder, a style with steps like a - ladder. - - +Steead+, _pp._ Stood. - - +Steeal+, _n._ Stool. - - +Steean+, _n._ Stone. - - +Steer+, _n._ An ox under two years. - - +Steer-tree+, _n._ The left handle of a plough. - - +Steg+, _n._ A gander, a fool. - - +Stegly+, _adj._ 1. Shaky. - 2. Unsymmetrical, unsuitable. - Ex.—2. _It’s a gret stegly hoos_ (said of Faucet Vicarage). - - +Stell+, _n._ An open ditch varying in width and depth. - - +Stent+, _v._ To abstain, to deny oneself. - - +Step+, _n._ An undefined distance. - Ex.—_Ah went a good step wiv him._ - - +Step, A langish+ = Quite a long way off. - - +Steven+, _v._ To bawl out, to shout at the top of the voice; to - howl and bluster, as the wind. NOTE.—Rarely heard now. - - +Stick+, _v._ To kill an animal by stabbing, as a butcher. - - +Stickle+, _v._ To hesitate, to object. - - +Stickle-haired+ } - +Stickly+ } _adj._ Bristly. - - +Stickler+, _n._ A difficulty, a poser. - - +Sticks+, _n._ Furniture, belongings. - - +Stick up, To+, _v._ To boldly maintain one’s right. - - +Stiddy+, _n._ An anvil. - - +Stiddy+, _v._ To be steady, attentive to business. - - +Stife+, +Stify+, _adj._ Close, foul, as to air. - - +Stiff+, _adj._ 1. Steep, difficult. - 2. Firm, obstinate. - Ex.—1. _Ah’ll tell ya what, it’s a stiffish clim’. Ah’ve gitten - a stiff job this tahm._ - - +Stifler+, _n._ A bad odour; a heavy blow, such as to cause - insensibility. - - +Stint+, _Vide_ +Stent+. - - +Stir on, Plenty to+ = Rich, well-to-do. - Ex.—_He’s gi’en ten pund, bud then he’s gitten plenty ti stir - on._ - - +Stirk+, _n._ A heifer. - - +Stirrings+, _n._ An unusual excitement, gaiety. - Ex.—_Ya’ll be ’eving sthraange stirrings when t’ young chap cums - at age._ - - +Stitch+, _n._ A sharp pain in the side. - - +Stithe+, _v._ To taint, to give a taste of smoke, &c. - Ex.—_What ’a’e ya putten on t’ fire? it’s stithed all ’at’s i’ - yewn thruff t’ crack i’ t’ boddum._ - - +Stob+, _n._ Usually a short pointed stick or stake; the stump of - a tree, a small splinter. - - +Stob+, _v._ To mark out land with short stakes, to dig up a fence, - to strengthen with stobs. - - +Stob off+, _v._ To lop off branches of a tree or the top half of - a hedge. - - +Stock+, _n._ A beam of wood, generally applied to the frame of a - bedstead, e.g. bed-stock. - - +Stock+, _adv._ Quite, absolutely. - Ex.—_He steead stock still._ - - +Stodge+, _v._ To satiate with over-eating; to make anything too - thick, as the admixture of too much meal with water. - Ex.—_Ah caan’t eat it, it’s nowt bud stodge._ - - +Stone-naked+, _adj._ Absolutely naked. - - +Stonies+, _n._ Common stone taws. - - +Stooden+, _pp._ of ‘Stand,’ but the usage is somewhat peculiar. - Ex.—_Things wad ’a’e stooden different if t’ bobby ’ed catched - him_, i.e. been. _Ah’ve stooden Bedale market ivver sen Ah wur - a larl nipper_, i.e. attended. - - +Stook+, _n._ Twelve sheaves of corn set up against each other in - the harvest field. - - +Stook+, _v._ To set up stooks, and bind the same. - - +Stooth+, _v._ To apply plaster on laths instead of to the wall - itself, or to make in a room a false wall of battens, laths, and - plaster. - - +Stor+, +Sturr+, _v._ and _n._ To stir; a stir, excitement. - - +Storm+, _n._ A continuance of frost and snow, with or without wind. - - +Stortioners+, _n._ The common nasturtium. - - +Stot+, _n._ A young ox. - - +Stoup+, _n._ A measure of ale. - - +Stour+, _v._ To blow in clouds, whether of dust, rain, hail, or - snow; also the action of smoke as it comes from a chimney or fire. - - +Stour+, _n._ Dust, &c. - - +Stour+, +Stower+, _n._ A stake, the middle bars of a cattle rack, - the cross-bars of a ladder. - - +Stout+, _adj._ Convalescent, healthy looking. - Ex.—_Sha leeaks weel an’ stoot agaan._ - - +Stoven+, _n._ The old stump of a tree not yet quite dead. - - +Stowp+, _n._ An upright post. - - +Stra+, +Streah+, _n._ Straw. - - +Stracklin’+, _n._ A worthless fellow, a waster. - - +Straighten+, _v._ Often followed by ‘up.’ To put in order, to - punish, to settle accounts. - Ex.—_Ah mun straighten things up a bit afoor t’ parson’s missus - drops in. If thoo dizn’t drop it, Ah’ll straighten thi jacket - foor tha. When thoo’s deean, fetch thi bill in, an’ wa’ll - straighten up._ - - +Strand+, _n._ The beach. - - +Strapping+, _adj._ Strong, tall, big. - - +Strather+, _n._ Haste, excitement. - - +Streah+, _Vide_ +Stra+. - - +Streamers+, _n._ Minnows during spawning. - - +Streean+, +Strain+, _n._ Descent, breed. - - +Streean+, _v._ To do one’s utmost. - - +Strength+, +Stren’th+, _n._ 1. Security. - 2. Belief. - Ex.—1. _He ’ezn’t t’ stren’th o’ fifty pund_, i.e. ‘Could not - find security for that sum.’ - 2. _On t’ stren’th o’ what thoo sez_, i.e. ‘Acting on the - belief,’ &c. - - +Strickle+, _n._ The stone or other contrivance used to sharpen a - scythe. - - +Stride-whallops+, _n._ A lanky, long-legged lass. An older word, - now fallen into disuse, was +Stridykirk+. - - +Stridlings+, _adv._ Astride. - - +Strike+, _v._ To kick with the hind leg (of a horse), to fly-blow - meat, to balance an account, to make a line with string and chalk. - - +Strik’-stick+, _n._ The stick used to scrape off the superfluous - corn when measuring. - - +String-halt+, _n._ A twitching of the hind leg of a horse. - - +Strip+, _v._ To drain the udder dry. - - +Stritch-stick+, _n._ The bar which keeps the trace chains apart. - Also +Stretcher+. - - +Stroke+, +Stroak+, _n._ A single bat, a commencement. - Ex.—_Ah ’evn’t deean a stroak o’ wark ti-daay._ - - +Strong+, _adj._ 1. Hard, severe. - 2. Heavy, bulky. - 3. Stiff, clayey. - Ex.—1. _Wa s’ ‘ev a strangish frost efter this._ - 2. _It’s a strangish leead foor t’ au’d meer._ - 3. _T’ land’s varra strong hereaboots._ - - +Strother+, _Vide_ +Strather+. - - +Strucken+, _pp._ of ‘Strike.’ - - +Strunt+, _n._ The tail. - - +Strunt+, _v._ To cut the tail short. - - +Struts+, _n._ The posts used in the roof-frame of a house. - - +Stuck up+, _adj._ Proud. - - +Stuff+, _n._ Of very loose application, e.g. material, furniture, - chattels, produce, &c. - Ex.—_Thoo’s gitten stuff eneeaf ti mak tweea coats. Thoo’s gitten - stuff i’ t’ chaamer eneeaf foor tweea rooms. Thoo’s gitten - mair stuff on t’ land na ivver Tommy ’ed._ - - +Stunning+, _adj._ First-class. - - +Stunt+, _adj._ Short, stumpy; stiff, unyielding. - - +Stunt+, _adv._ and _n._ Sulky, obstinate. - Ex.—_Tak neea notish, he taks t’ stunt at nowt._ - - +Sturdy+, +Stoddy+, _n._ A disease, i.e. hydatids in the brain. - - +Stut+, _v._ To stutter. - - +S’u’d+, _v._ Should. - - +Summat+, _n._ Something. - - +Summer-bink+, _n._ A seat shaded by leaves in summer-time. - - +Summer-colt+, _n._ Undulating vapour near the ground. - - +Sump+, _n._ A bog or marsh. - - +Sumpy+, _adj._ Wet, boggy. - - +Sunder+, _v._ To dry in the sun. - - +Sundown+, _n._ Sunset. - - +Sup+, _n._ A small quantity of any liquid. - Ex.—_Ah wants a sup o’ milk. It leeaks nowt bud leyke a sup o’ - wet._ - - +Sup+, _v._ To drink either by sips or with a spoon. - - +Sup off+, _v._ To drain one’s glass. - - +Surance+, _n._ Surety. - Ex.—_Bud what tha ’a’e gi’en, tha ’ez surance for ’t?_ - - +Surfeit o’ cold+, _n._ A very severe cold. - - +Swab+, _n._ A drunken sot. - - +Swad+, _n._ A peascod, and the like. - - +Swag+, _v._ 1. To swing about. - 2. To lean towards. - Ex.—2. _Ya’ll ’a’e ti put summat at yon sahd ti balance ’t, it - swags gertly ti this sahd._ - - +Swage+, _v._ To soften, to quiet down. - - +Swaimish+, _adj._ Bashful. - - +Swale+, +Sweeal+, _v._ 1. To waste by burning unevenly, as a - candle in a draught. - 2. To squander. - Ex.—1. _Shut t’ doour, t’ cann’l’s sweealing._ - 2. _Yon chap ’ud sweeal a ransom awaay._ - - +Swang+, _n._ A boggy stretch of land. - - +Swangy+, _adj._ Boggy. - - +Swanky+, +Swanking+, _adj._ Great of its kind. - - +Swap+, _v._ To exchange. - - +Swape+, _n._ An oar of peculiar shape, a pump handle. - - +Swappy+, _adj._ Plump. - - +Swarm+, _v._ To climb by clasping a pole or tree with both arms, - knees, and legs. - - +Swart+, _adj._ Black looking. - - +Swarth+, +Swa’th+, _n._ The outer skin, rind; the quality and - quantity of grass upon the land. - - +Swarve+, _v._ To swerve. - - +Swash+, _v._ To dash about in waves. - - +Swatch+, _n._ Fit, size, the precise thing required. - Ex.—_This yan’ll deea, its just mah swatch. Its just t’ swatch - foor ma._ NOTE.—Swatch was originally a wooden tally or other - means by which any person might prove their claim to cloth - which had been left to dye—cloth, by-the-way, which was - home-spun. - - +Swathe+, _n._ The full reach of the scythe when cutting. - - +Swathe-bank+, _n._ The grass left uncut by the blade at the end - of its sweep. - - +Swatter+, _v._ 1. To play and splash with water. - 2. To squander. - Ex.—1. _Tho’ll sprent thisen all ower, swattering on i’ that - waay._ - 2. _He’ll swatter t’ bit o’ brass awaay._ - - +Swelt+, _v._ To faint, to swoon; to overpower, as with heat. - - +Swelter+, _v._ To burn, to bear or suffer heat, to perspire - profusely. - - +Swidden+, _n._ Any place on a moor which has been cleared by - burning. - - +Swidden+, +Swithen+, _v._ To singe or burn off superficially. - - +Swidge+, _v._ To tingle, burn (of inflammation). - Ex.—_It war nobbut a bleb at t’ fu’st, bud it swidged an’ - throbbed an’ then started ti kittle, an’ Ah think that wur t’ - warst ov all._ - - +Swig+, _v._ To drink at one draught. - - +Swill+, _n._ Pigmeat. - - +Swill+, _v._ To cleanse by throwing water out of a pail, as on - flags, &c. - - +Swingle-tree+, _n._ _Vide_ +Stritch-stick+. - - +Swip+, _n._ A marrow, the image of. - Ex.—_He’s fair t’ swip ov t’ au’d chap._ - - +Swipple+, _n._ That part of a flail which beats out the corn. - - +Swirrel+, _n._ Squirrel. - - +Switch+, _v._ To throw, to dash. - Ex.—_Sha teeak t’ paail o’ mucky watter, an’ switched t’ lot all - ower ma._ - - +Switched+, _adj._ Drunk. - - +Switcher+, _n._ Good, better than ordinary. - - +Switching+, _adj._ Grand, noted, extensive. - - +Swither+, _v._ 1. To tingle and smart with pain. - 2. To dissipate by slow degrees, a little at a time. - Ex.—2. _If he gans on i’ that road, he’ll swither all t’ brass - he hez awaay._ - - +Swittle+, _n._ A heated iron rod used to bore holes in wood. - - +Swizzen+, _v._ To singe. _Vide_ +Swidden+. - Ex.—_It’ll swizzen t’ clothes, t’ iron’s ti hot._ - - +Sword-dancers+, _Vide_ chapter on ‘Customs.’ - - +Syke+, _n._ A small streamlet, a gutter, a small rill draining - from a boggy place. - - - T. - - +‘T+, _pron._ It. - - +T’+, _def art._ The. - - +Ta+, _per. pron._ Thou, you. - - +Taal+, _v._ To settle, to accommodate oneself to a new condition - of habits, &c. - - +Tacket+, _n._ A tack. - - +Ta’en+, +Takken+, _pp._ of ‘Take.’ - - +Ta’en agaan+ or +ageean+, _v._ To take a dislike to. - Ex.—_Ah’ve ta’en agaan her, an’ Ah s’ nivver tak up wiv her na - mair._ - - +Ta’en tiv+, _v._ To take to, to like. - - +Tag+, _n._ A twist of long grass or rushes, a wisp. - - +Tag+, _v._ To flog with a tag. - - +Tahm+, _n._ 1. Time. - 2. Life. - Ex.—2. _Ah’ve seen a vast i’ mah tahm._ - - +Tahm by chance+, _adv._ Occasionally. - - +Taistrel+, _n._ A peevish character. - - +Tak+, _n._ 1. A flavour somewhat pronounced. - 2. Land which has been taken at a fixed rent. - 3. Piecework. - Ex.—2. _If he’s letten tha ’t at nowt na mair ’an what thoo sez, - its a varra cheeap tak._ - 3. Q. _Hez ta ta’en ’em byv t’ yackker or by t’ week?_ A. _Neea, - he wadn’t be on byv t’ week, seea Ah’ve ta’en ’em byv t’ tak - this go._ - - +Tak+, _v._ 1. To take. - 2. To rise to bite, as a fish. - 3. To attract. - 4. To gain one’s esteem or regard. - Ex.—2. _Are tha takkin’ onny?_ i.e. biting. - 3. _Wa mun ’ev a bisittle race, hooivver; tha tak t’ best ov owt - noo._ - 4. _Ah tak tiv him at yance_, i.e. ‘He gained my esteem at once.’ - - +Tak ho’d+, _v._ To undertake to do, or fill a position. - Ex.—_Ah wanted him ti preeach i’ t’ pleeace o’ Tommy, bud he - wadn’t be on, he’s shy o’ takkin ho’d._ - - +Tak in, To+, _v._ 1. To understand. - 2. To deceive. - Ex.—1. _Gan on, Ah’s takkin ’t all in._ - 2. _Noo if thoo taks ma in, Ah’ll traade wi’ tha na mair._ - - +Takken ti heart+ = Giving way to any affliction. - - +Takkin+, _n._ 1. The actual result of labour. - 2. A condition, a bad temper. - Ex.—1. _Thoo’s gitten a rare takkin; wheear did ta catch ’em?_ - 2. _Sha’s iv a despert ill takkin._ - - +Tak off+, _v._ 1. To make fun of, to ridicule, to imitate, mimic. - 2. To leave without due notice. - Ex.—2. _He niver sed nowt, bud just teeak off._ - - +Tak on+, _v._ 1. To retake. - 2. To re-engage. - 3. To get excited. - Ex.—1. _Ah’ve ta’en t’ farm on agaan._ - 2. _He ga’ ma t’ sack, bud he’s ta’en ma on agaan._ - 3. _He did tak on when he gat ti knaw._ - - +Tak on wi’+, _v._ To engage oneself to another. - - +Tak tent+, _v._ To engage oneself to look after, e.g. as a boy - keeping crows off the land. - - +Tak t’ hig, To+, _v._ To take offence. - - +Takt+, _adj._ Acid, sharp to the taste. - Ex.—_It’s a lahtle bit ower takt ti mah liking._ - - +Tak up+, _v._ 1. To become fair. - 2. To reform one’s character. - Ex.—1. _If ’t dizn’t tak up seean, t’ hay’ll be nut wo’th - leading._ - 2. _If he’ll nobbut drop drinking an’ tak up, ther’s a seet o’ - good iv him._ - - +Tak up wi’+, _v._ 1. To make friends with another. - 2. To become engaged to. - Ex.—1. _He’s neean ower neyce whaw he gans wi’, he’ll tak up wi’ - onny lass._ - - +Tale+, _n._ The number agreed upon. - Ex.—_Ther dizn’t leeak owt leyke a full tale, Ah s’all coont ’em - afoor Ah paay tha._ - - +Talk+, _n._ Report, gossip. - - +Taller-cake+, _n._ Any cake made with the fat from about the - kidney of a sheep or beast. - - +Taller-craps+, _Vide_ +Craps+. - - +T’ ane+, +T’ yan+ = The one of two or more followed or replied to - by +T’ other+ or +T’ ither+. - Ex.—_Tha wur all feighting t’ ane amang t’ ither._ - - +Tang+, _n._ The tongue of a buckle. - - +Tangle+, _n._ An entanglement, the long fibre of a root, sea-wrack. - - +Tangle+, _v._ To entangle. - - +Tangly+, _adj._ Slatternly, slovenly. Applied to a slut. - - +Tantle+, _v._ 1. To waste time. - 2. To play on with. - Ex.—1. _Noo set ti wark ez if thoo meant it, an’ deean’t tantle - on leyke that._ - - +Tappy-lappy+, _adv._ Anyhow. - - +Tatchy+, _adj._ Sticky, viscous, adhesive. - - +Tattling+, _n._ The necessary tackle or equipment of things for - carrying out any purpose. - Ex.—_He hezn’t gitten onny tattling foor a job o’ yon size_, - i.e. neither ladders, ropes, nor scaffolding poles. - - +Taum+, _n._ The twisted hair to which the fish-hook is attached. - - +Taum ower, To+, _v._ To faint. - - +Taws+, _n._ Boys’ marbles. - - +Team+, +Teem+, _v._ and _n._ 1. To pour from any vessel. - 2. To rain heavily. - 3. To empty. - Ex.—1. _Team all t’ cau’d tea oot._ - 2. _It teem’d doon_, i.e. of rain. - 3. _Teeam t’ coals oot at t’ back-side._ - - +Tea-party+, _n._ A tea meeting given in the village school or - barn to raise money for some object. - - +Teave+, _Vide_ +Tew+. - - +Teea+, _prep._ To. _Vide_ +Till+. - - +Teeagle+, _v._ To raise timber from the ground by means of a - tripod of strong poles and a pulley. - - +Teeak+, _v._ Took. - - +Teeals+, _n._ Tools. - - +Tell+, _v._ 1. To recognize. - 2. To know. - 3. To number, to reckon up, to judge. - Ex.—1. _Ah c’u’d tell wheea ’t wur ez seean ez Ah clap’t mah een - on ya._ - 2. _‘Twur good eneeaf ti tell what he wur gahin’ ti saay._ - 3. _Gan ti t’ gaate an’ tell t’ sheep ez tha cum thruff._ - - +Telly-pye-tit+, or +Tell-pyet+, _n._ A tale-bearer. - - +Tempesty+, _adj._ Thunderous, blustery, or having the appearance - of stormy weather. - - +Teng+, _v._ To sting. - - +Tenged+, _pp._ Stung. - - +Tengs+, _n._ Tongs. - - +Tent+, _n._ Attention, care. - Ex.—_Tak tent o’ what he saays, noo._ - - +Tent+, _v._ To look after, to keep watch over. - Ex.—_Yan’s tenting craws fur Billy, an’ t’ other’s tenting wur - awn coos i’ t’ lonnin’._ - - +Tetchy+, _adj._ Cross, peevish. - - +Teufit+, +Teeafit+, +Tewit+, _n._ The pewit, plover, or lapwing - (_Vanellus cristatus_). - - +Teugh+, +Teeaf+, _adj._ Tough. - - +Tew+, _v._ 1. To toil. - 2. To tire and grow weary. - 3. To tire by restlessness. - 4. To crumple and crease by rough or unskilful handling. - Ex.—1. _Ah’ve tewed all t’ daay_, i.e. ‘toiled.’ - 2. _Ah’ve gitten ’t deean, bud it’s sadly tewed ma._ - 3. _Sha’s tired noo, bud then sha’s tewed on all t’ neet._ - 4. _Put ’em doon, thoo’s tewing ’em, whahl tha weean’t be fit ti - put on._ - - +Tha+, _per. pron._ They, thou, and thee. - - +Thabble+, _n._ The plug which fits the hole in the milk trough. - - +Thack+, +Theeak+, +Theeaking+, _n._ Thatch. - - +Thack+, +Theeak+, +Theeaking+, _v._ To thatch. - - +Thacker+, +Theeaker+, _n._ A thatcher. - - +Thack-bands+, +Theeak-bands+, +Theeaking-bands+, _n._ Bands of - straw for thatching. - - +Thack-prods+, +Theeak-prods+, +Theeaking-prods+, - _Vide_ +Stack-prod+. - - +Thah+, _per. pron._ Thy. - - +Tharf+, +Tharfish+, _adj._ +Tharfly+, _adv._ Backward, reluctant, - shy, bashful, unwilling. - - +Thauvel+, +Thivel+, _n._ A stick used for stirring or pushing down - the contents of a pan likely to boil over. - - +Thee+, _n._ Thigh. - - +Theet+, _adj._ Water-tight. - - +Them+, _pron._ Those. - - +Thick+, _adj._ Very friendly, intimate. - - +Thills+, _n._ Shafts of a waggon. - - +Think long of, To+, _v._ To be long expectant, weary of waiting. - - +Think on+, _v._ To bear in mind, to remember. - As an example of redundancy, I heard a woman say, _Noo mahnd an’ - think on, an’ deean’t forget ti beear i’ mahnd ’at thoo ’ez ti - fetch a pund o’ treacle_. - - +Think up+, _v._ To originate, to arrange. - Ex.—_Noo it’ll ’a’e ta’en a lot o’ thinking up, will a do leyke - yon._ - - +Tho+, +Thoo+, _per. pron._ Thou. - - +Thoff+, _conj._ Though. - - +Thrave+, _v._ To thrive. - - +Thrave+, +Trave+, +Treeav+, _n._ A stook of corn, or twelve - battens of straw. - - +Thraw+, _Vide_ +Throw+. - - +Threead+, _n._ Thread. - - +Threeap+, _n._ A contentious fellow. - - +Threeap+, _v._ To maintain pertinaciously, to argue positively. - - +Threeap down+, _v._ To overpower by argument. - - +Threeap up+, _v._ To refer to bygone mistakes or misunderstandings - in an unkindly manner. - - +Threeten+, Threaten. - - +Three-thrums+, _n._ The purring of a cat. - - +Thribble+, _adj._ Treble. - - +Thriver+, _n._ Healthy, strong, likely to improve. - - +Thro+, _Vide_ +Thruff+. - - +Throng+, _adj._ 1. More than usually busy or crowded. - 2. Engaged in. - Ex.—2. _T’ bairn’s thrang gitting its teeth._ - - +Throng+, +Thrang+, _n._ Bustle, a great crowd, confusion, - excitement. - - +Throng deed+, _n._ Excitement over some event, the bustle and - confusion attendant on any celebration, tea party, wedding, &c. - - +Thropple+, _n._ The windpipe. - - +Thropple+, _v._ To strangle. - - +Throstle+, +Throssel+, _n._ The thrush. - - +Through+, _n._ A lathe. - - +Through+, +Thruff+, _prep._ At some time, at intervals. - Ex.—_Ah’ll mebbe deea ’t thruff t’ morning. It teeam’d doon - thruff t’ neet._ - - +Through+ or +Thruff with+, _adv._ Finished, complete. N.B. - ‘Through’ is also pronounced ‘throwgh’ and ‘thro.’ - Ex.—_Ah s’all be thruff wi’ t’ job by ti morn._ - - +Throughly+, _adv._ Completely, fully. - - +Through time+ = In time, gradually, by-and-by. - Ex.—_Ah s’all git better through time. If t’ weather ho’ds - thoo’ll git deean through time._ - - +Through, To get+, _v._ To dispose of. - Ex.—_Ah’ve fetched t’ coo yam ageean, bud Ah gat thruff t’ sheep._ - - +Throvven+, _pp._ To thrive. - - +Throw+, _v._ To vomit. - - +Throw back+, _v._ To have a relapse. - Ex.—_He’s warse ti-daay, he’s gitten thrown back a lump sen last - neet._ - - +Throw over+, _v._ To turn over, to upset, to be overturned. - - +Thruff+, +Throw+, _prep._ Through. - - +Thrumble+, +Thrumm’l+, _v._ To examine the quality of anything by - the touch or rubbing action of the finger and thumb. - - +Thrumm’l+, _n._ A rope firmly bound round a grooved iron ring. - - +Thrummy+, _adj._ Bulky, plump. - - +Thrust+, _v._ To push with some force. - - +Thrust out+, +Thrussen oot+, _pp._ Projecting forward, bulging, - turned out. - - +Thumping+, _adj._ Big, large of its kind. - - +Thunner+, _n._ Thunder. - - +Thwack+, _v._ To administer a sharp blow. - Ex.—_Gi’e it a good thwacking wiv a hezzel stick, that’ll fetch - t’ dust oot on ’t._ - - +Thysen+ or +Thysel+, +Thisen+ or +Thisel+, _pron._ Thyself or - yourself. - - +Ti+, _prep._ To. - - +‘Tice+, _v._ To allure, induce. - Ex.—_A young widow knows hoo ti ’tice a chap._ - - +‘Ticing+, _adj._ Alluring, seductive, winning. - - +‘Tick+, _Vide_ +Cade+. - - +‘Tick+, _v._ To mark off goods or other items, as in an invoice, - by placing a small mark against each when called. - - +Tiddle+, _v._ To fondle, to finick. - - +Tiddy+, _adj._ Small, puny. - - +Tidy-betty+, _n._ A guard to prevent the ashes dirtying the hearth. - - +Tie+, +Tee+, +Tah+, _n._ A hair band to secure the legs of a cow - whilst being milked. - - +Tie+, _n._ 1. Obligation. - 2. Necessity. - 3. Burden. - 4. Care. - Ex.—1. _Ah’s unner neea tie tiv him._ - 2. _Ther’s neea tie fur thoo ti gan._ - 3. _Thoo’ll finnd her a despert tie, sen sha lost t’ ewse ov her - legs._ - - +Tied+, +Tahd+, _v._ Obliged, constrained, compelled. - Ex.—_If sha’s leyke ti dee, Ah s’ be tied ti gan. He’ll be tied - ti drop a bit ower t’ meer. Ah’s nut tied ti deea ’t acoz thoo - tells ma._ - - +Tied, It’s+ = It must, no doubt exists. - Ex.—_It’s tied ti be ez he sez. It’s tied ti tumm’l doon wi t’ - fo’st gust o’ wind._ - - +Tiffany+, _n._ Strong, fine-meshed gauze. - - +Tift+, _n._ A quarrel, generally of words only. - - +Tift+, _v._ To contend. - - +Tig+, _n._ A light tap. - Ex.—_Ah didn’t hit, Ah nobbut tigg’d him._ - - +Tiggings+, _n._ A game played by children, the object being to - tap each other; the one so touched must then chase the rest - until he or she gently taps some other. - - +Tightish+, _adv._ and _adj._ 1. Somewhat fast or close-fitting. - 2. Lacking means. - 3. Difficult. - Ex.—1. _It’s varra well putten tigither, bud a larl bit tightish - i’ t’ lid._ - 2. _Ah caan’t len’ tha ten pund, Ah’s a bit tightish held mysel - just noo._ - 3. _It’s a tightish fix thoo’s gitten thisen intul._ - - +Till+, +Tull+, +Ti+, _prep._ To. +Tiv+ before a vowel. - - +Tim’ered+, +Weell+, _adj._ Well built. - - +Tim’er-toed+, _adj._ A man wearing a wooden leg is said to be - timber-toed. - - +Timersome+, _adj._ Nervous, apprehensive of danger. - - +Ti morn+, _n._ To-morrow. - - +Ti morn at morn+ = To-morrow in the morning. Hence +Ti morn at - neean+, ‘noon’; +Ti morn at neet+, ‘night.’ - - +Tinkler+, _n._ A tinker. - - +Tip-trap+, _n._ An arrangement which closes the door, owing to - the weight of the animal releasing a lever as it passes in. - - +Tipe+, _v._ To turn over, or fall over. - - +Tipple over+, _v._ To fall over. - - +Tipple-tail-over+, _n._ Somersault. - - +Tit up+, _v._ To pay one’s share. - - +Tite+, _Vide_ +As tite+. - - +Titter+, _adv._ and _adj._ Sooner, first, willingly. - - +Titterly+, _adj._ Early, forward in growth. - - +Titty+, _n._ The mother’s milk. - - +Tiv+, _Vide_ +Till+. - - +Tivvy+, _v._ To roam about. - - +To+, _prep._ Often used instead of ‘for.’ - Ex.—_We’re gahin’ ti ’ev dumplings ti dinner._ Common in old - writers and the Bible. - - +Toft+, _n._ A small grove of trees. - - +Tommy-loach+, _n._ The stone-loach. - - +To’n+, _n._ A good turn = a kindness. - Ex.—_They’ll deea onnyboddy a good to’n, will John an’ Annie._ - - +To’n+, _v._ To turn. - - +Toon+, _n._ A village. - - +Toon street+, _n._ The village street. - - +Top-dressin’+, _n._ Manure thrown on, not ploughed in. - - +Topping+, _n._ A natural standing-up roll or curl on the forehead, - the hair of the head. - Ex.—_Sha teeak him byv t’ topping an’ shuvved him inti t’ hollin - bush._ - - +Topping+, +Topper+, _adj._ First-class, very fine. - - +Tottering+, _adj._ Unsettled as to weather and life. - Ex.—_It’s been nobbut a tottering tahm fur hay. He’s nobbut - ’eving a tottering tahm on ’t; Ah doot he’s nut lang fur here._ - - +Tottle+, _v._ To toddle, as a child or an infirm person. - - +Tottling+, _pp._ Falling. - - +Touchous+ } _adj._ Irritable, resentful. - +Touchy+ } - - +Touple+, _v._ Another form of +Tottle+. To sway or totter and then - fall over. +Whemm’l+ carries the same double meaning, but is rarely - heard now. To fall. - - +Trail+, _v._ To drag along the ground. - 2. To move with difficulty, or lazily. - Ex.—_Hoo that lass diz trail aboot. Ah can hardlin’s trail yah - leg efter t’ other._ - - +Trailtengs+, _n._ A gossiping woman. - - +Trailtripes+, _n._ A slatternly woman. - - +Trallops+, _n._ A slatternly woman. - - +Tramp+, _n._ and _v._ A beggar; to go on foot. - - +Tramping+, _part._ Trampling. - - +Trap+, _v._ To be severely nipped, as by a box-lid falling on - one’s finger, and the like. - - +Trapěs+, _n._ A dirty, untidy woman. - - +Trapes+ or +Trapus+, _v._ To walk aimlessly about hither and - thither. - - +Traps+, _n._ Belongings. - Ex.—_Pack thi traps up an’ cum alang._ - - +Trash+, _n._ Good for nothing, either of persons or things. - - +Travel+, _v._ To walk, to move along. - Ex.—_Theease steeans mak it bad travelling._ - - +Trig+, _v._ To fill. As a _noun_, a stone to stop a wheel. - - +Trigger+, _n._ One who feeds the cattle. NOTE.—Only used in the - east of the North Riding. - - +Trim+, _v._ To cut a hedge, to apply the finishing touch. - - +Trimmer+, _adj._ Really good, first-class. _n._ A sharp fellow. - - +Trimm’ling-gess+, _n._ Trembling grass. - - +Trod+, _n._ A footpath. - - +Troll+, _v._ To roll. - - +Troll-egg day+, _Vide_ chapter on ‘Customs.’ - - +Trollibobs+, _n._ Entrails. - - +Trunking+, _n._ The business of lobster and crab catching. - - +Tu’n+, _Vide_ +To’n+. - - +Tundish+, _n._ A funnel. - - +Tup+, _n._ A ram. - - +Turve+, _n._ A block of turf to be used as fuel. - - +Turve-cake+, _n._ A cake baked in a pan having a tightly fitting - lid, which is covered over with burning turves until sufficiently - baked. - - +Twadgers+, _n._ A gingerbread cake. - - +Twangy+, _adj._ and _adv._ Affected, applied to intonation. - - +Twank+, _v._ To administer a sharp smack, to whip. - - +Twattle+, _n._ Gossip. - - +Twattle+, _v._ To stroke, to pet. - Ex.—_Thoo twattles on wi’ t’ pup ez if ’twar a bairn._ - - +Tweea+, _num. adj._ Two. - - +Twill+, _n._ A quill, as ‘twill pen.’ - - +Twilt+, _n._ A bed-quilt. - - +Twilt+, _v._ To beat, to flog. - - +Twilting+, _v._ Cross-stitching two thicknesses together. - - +Twine+, _v._ 1. To twist or turn from a direct course. - 2. To be fretful. - Ex.—1. _He twisted an’ twin’d uz aboot whahl Ah didn’t knaw - wheear wa war._ - - +Twiny+, _adj._ Peevish. - - +Twisty+, _adj._ Cross, fretful. - - +Twitch-bell+, _n._ The earwig (_Forficula auricularia_). - - +Twitters+, _n._ A state of nervousness. - - +Tyaak+, _Vide_ +Teeak+. - - +Tyke+, _n._ A disreputable fellow; the name given to a - Yorkshireman. - - - U. - - +‘Ud+, Would. - - +Udge+, _v._ To urge. - - +Un+, One. - Ex.—_Sha’s a good un_, i.e. ‘She is a good one.’ - - +Unbated+, _adj._ Not repressed. - - +Unbeknown+, _adj._ Not known. - - +Unbethink+, _v._ To call to mind. - - +Uncomeatable+, _adj._ and _adv._ Difficult to approach or get at. - - +Underdraw+, _v._ To cover with lath and plaster. - - +Underhanded+, _adj._ Undersized, poorly developed. - - +Underling+, _n._ A stunted, weakly child. - - +Undermind+, _v._ To undermine. - - +Ungain+, _adj._ Distant, difficult of access, awkward. - Ex.—_It’s sik an ungain spot ti finnd, is yours._ - - +Unmenseful+, _adj._ Unbecoming, unseemly, ill-mannered. - - +Unreave+, _v._ To unwind. - - +Unsayable+, _adj._ Not amenable to advice, self-willed. - - +Unslot+, _v._ To unfasten by pulling back the slot or bolt. - - +Unsteck+, _v._ To unfasten and push open. - - +Up, To speak+, _v._ To speak aloud, to defend oneself against an - unjust charge. - - +Up with+ = The matter with. - Ex.—_What’s up wi’ t’ bairn?_ - - +Upbray+, _v._ To upbraid. - - +Upend+, _v._ To set on end, to stand upright. - - +Upgang+, _n._ A pathway up a hill or mountain. - - +Upgrown+, _adj._ Adult. - - +Uphold+, +Upho’d+, _v._ 1. To maintain, to give one’s unqualified - support. - 2. To provide those things necessary for a person’s welfare, to - sustain. - Ex.—1. _Thee gan on wi’ ‘t, Ah’ll upho’d tha iv all thoo d’z, - ’coz thoo’s i’ t’ reet on ’t._ - 2. _It’ll tak summat ti uphold t’ waay ’at he’s gahin’ on, - i.e. living._ - - +Upset-price+, _n._ The marked price at which an article is offered - for sale. - - +Upset wiv+, _adj._ Put out, disconcerted, worried. - Ex.—_Ah nivver war sae upsetten wiv owt ez Ah war when t’ au’d - meer deed._ - - +Upshot+, _n._ Final issue, the conclusion of anything. - Ex.—_An’ t’ upshot on ’t war ’at he gat hissel weel bunched._ - - +Use, To no+ = Useless, unprofitable, worthless. - - +Use ti c’u’d+ = Once was able. - - +Us+, _adv._ and _conj._ As. _Vide_ +Es+. - - - V. - - +Varra+, _adv._ Very. _Vide_ +Very+. - - +Vast+, _n._ and _adj._ A large number. - Ex.—_A vast o’ fooak cam ti t’ feeast. Ther wur a vast mair - bosses ’an Ah aim’d ti see._ - - +Verser+, _n._ A rhymster. - - +Very+, _adj._ An intensive. - Ex.—_Thoo maay slavver on, varra few ’ll pay onny heed ti what - thoo sez. Aye, a varra deeal o’ what he sez is o’ varra larl - matter tiv onnybody._ - - +Vessel cups+ = Wassail cups. - - +Viewly+, +Viewsome+, _adj._ Pleasing to look at, handsome, neatly - and well put together. - Ex.—_It’s a varra viewly cauf. Sha’s a varra viewly lass._ - - +Volumous+, _adj._ Large, bulky. - Ex.—_It’s a maist volumous consarn, yon is. Ah deean’t tak ti - sike volumous things._ - - - W. - - +Wa+, _pron._ We. - - +Wad+, _v._ Would. - - +Wade+, _v._ To glimmer, as the sun does when rising if the - atmosphere is charged with moisture. - Ex.—_It’ll rain afoor neet, t’ sun waded sadly ez sha peeped - ower Rosberry._ - - +Waff+, _n._ 1. A slight puff of wind. - 2. The slightest scent. - Ex.—1. _It’s despert clooase, ther hezn’t been a waff o’ wind - ti-daay._ - 2. _Noo Ah’ve ’ed yah waff o’ thi silidge, an’ Ah want na mair - on ’t._ - - +Waff+, _v._ To bark as a little dog. - - +Waffle+, _v._ To hesitate, waver, to be undecided. - - +Waffly+, _adj._ 1. Undecided, wavering, vacillating. - 2. Shaky, insecure. - 3. Weak, dizzy, from illness. - 4. Given to foolish talk, chatter, &c. - Ex.—1. _T’ wind’s all roads, it’ll nobbut be a waffly sooart ov - a daay. It’s a varra waffly gahin’ on._ - 2. _Thoo’d best prop it up wi’ summat, it leeaks a bit waffly._ - 3. _Liggin’ i’ bed sae lang maks yan feel a bit waffly._ - 4. _Ah reckon nowt ov her waffly waays._ - - +Waffy+, _Vide_ +Wauf+. - - +Waft+, _n._ A slight puff of wind; a wraith, the appearance in - the spirit form of some known one whose death is imminent. - - +Wag+, _v._ To beckon with the finger or hand. - Ex.—_Ah wagg’d on him, bud he w’u’dn’t cum._ - - +Wage+, _v._ To induce by promise of payment. - Ex.—_Ah c’u’dn’t wage him ti staay efter he’d seen Mally’s waft._ - - +Wahnt+ = Was not, were not. - - +Wain+, _n._ A wagon. - - +Wain hoos+, _n._ Wagon shed. - - +Wait of+ } - +Wait on+ } _v._ To wait for. - - +Wake+, +Waak+, _adj._ Weak. - - +Wakken+, _v._ To awake, _active_ and _neuter_. - - +Wakkensome+, _adj._ Easily roused. - - +Wale+, +Weeal+, +Wheeal+, _v._ To flog with a stick. - - +Waling+, +Weealing+, _n._ Planks so fixed as to strengthen the - bank of a river. - - +Walk with+, _v._ To court, to be engaged. - Ex.—_Sha’s gi’en Tom t’ go-by, an’ walks wi’ t’ young gardener - noo._ - - +Walsh+, _adj._ Watery, without flavour. - - +Wame+, +Wheeam+, _n._ The stomach. - - +Wan+, _v._ Won. - - +Wangle+, +Wankle+, _v._ To totter preparatory to falling, or to - totter so as to have the appearance of falling. - Ex.—_Leeak oot! cum back! sha’s startin’ ti wang’l._ - - +Wangle+, +Wankle+, +Wankly+, _adj._ Tottering. - Ex.—_T’ larl brigg’s a wankly consarn._ - - +Want+, _v._ Its use is somewhat curious, e.g. _Does this book want - changing?_ i.e. ‘Is this book to be changed?’ _I want my coat - brushing_, i.e. ‘I wish my coat to be brushed.’ _Thoo wants a - good thrashing_, i.e. ‘You deserve,’ &c. _He hezn’t gitten mair - ’an he wanted_, i.e. ‘He has not got more than he deserved.’ - - +Wap-cloth+, _n._ Coarse cloth for pilot coats. - - +War+, +Waur+, +Wor+, +Wur+, +Wuz+, _imp. tense_ of ‘to be.’ Was or - were. - - +Warbels+, _n._ Swellings on the back of a beast, caused by the - larvae of the gadfly (_Oestrus bovis_). - - +War-days+, _n._ Any day save Sunday. - - +Wards+, A common suffix signifying direction. - Ex.—_He war cumin’ fra Newton-wards._ - - +‘Ware+, _v._ Beware. - - +Ware+, _v._ To lay out one’s money, to spend. - Ex.—_He awlus wares his brass ez if he meant ti git fowr penno’th - o’ stuff fur a threpenny bit._ - - +Wark+, _v._ and _n._ Work. Its use is manifold, see below. - - +Wark+, _v._ To ache, also as a _noun_. - Ex.—_Mah back warks past bahding. Thoo mun wark it_ (arrange it) - _seea ez he ’ez ti deea a day’s wark_ (a day’s labour). - _That’ll gi’e him t’ back-wark_ (ache). _‘At’ll wark_ (remove) - _all t’ warks_ (pains) _’at’s warking_ (aching) _oot on him_. - - +Warm+, _adj._ In easy circumstances, well-off. - - +Warm+, _v._ To chastise, to flog. - - +Warn+, _v._ To summon, to call together, to warn or swear in. - - +Warp+, _v._ To flood land with water, either by artificial means - or naturally by overflowing during heavy rains, in order that a - deposit may be left upon the surface when the water recedes. - - +Warridge+, _n._ The withers of a horse. - - +Warse+, +Wuss+, +Wees+, _adj._ Worse. - - +Warsen+, +Warsening+, _v._ To gradually grow worse. - Ex.—_T’ crop warsens ivvery year. Tommy warsens; he’s gahin’ ti - pop off if he dizn’t pick up a bit._ - - +Warzle+, +Wezzle+, _v._ To gain by craft, to cajole, to flatter, - to wheedle. - Ex.—_Sha’s a queer un, sha can wezzle owt oot o’ ma. He can - warzle tha inti believing owt._ - - +Wastrell+, _n._ An extravagant spendthrift. - - +Water-bleb+, _Vide_ +Bleb+. - - +Water-brash+, +Water-springs+, _n._ Acidity, heartburn. - - +Water-heck+, _n._ A rail or swing gate hung across the stream to - prevent cattle from straying. - - +Wath+, _n._ A ford. - - +Watter+, The common pronunciation of ‘Water.’ - - +Wauf+, +Waufish+, _adj._ Faint, weak, insipid. - - +Wax+, _v._ To grow. - Ex.—_He’s a waxing lad that._ - - +Wax kernel+, _n._ Swellings in the neck and hollow of the jaw. - - +Way-corn+, _n._ Oats or barley. - - +Way-wards+, _Vide_ +Wards+. - - +Ways+, _n._ Way. Used in such sentences as _Gan thi ways heeam. - Noo git thi ways in. Cu’ thi ways, honey._ - - +Wean+, +Weean+, _n._ A female. An opprobrious epithet. - - +Weather-fast+, _adj._ Kept in or prevented from carrying out one’s - plans owing to stress of weather. - - +Weather-gaul+, _n._ The incomplete arc of a rainbow, only half - being visible, the sure sign of a coming shower, if not of a bad - spell of weather. - Ex.—_A dyer’s neeaf an’ a weather-gaul - Sheppards warn ’at rain ’ll fall._ - - +Weazand+, +Wizzan+, _n._ The windpipe. Ex.—_He did shut his tung - oot when Ah nipped his wizzan foor him._ - - +Wed+, _v._ To marry. ‘Marry’ is rarely used in any tense or mood. - - +Weearish+, _adv._ Irritable. - - +Weeks+, _n._ Corners. I give the word because I know a few old - people on whose lips it still lingers, but it is rarely heard now. - I heard an old dame not so long ago say to a well-known gossip, - _If thoo hed t’ weeks o’ thi mooth stitchen, an’ t’ weeks o’ thi - een slitten, thoo’d be yabble ti see t’ muck i’ t’ weeks o’ thi - awn hoos, an’ saay less aboot uther fowk_. - - +Weetless+, _adj._ Lacking knowledge. - - +Wefted, To be+, _v._ To be closely associated with. - - +Weight+, +Wite+, _n._ Quantity, &c. Ex.—_There warn’t a gret - weight o’ taaties ti year. Neea gret weight o’ rain fell thruff - t’ neet._ - - +Welt+, _Vide_ +Rigged+. - - +Welting+, _n._ A sound thrashing. - - +Wer+, +Wern+, _poss. pron._ Our, our own. - - +Werrick+, _n._ and _v._ A half-smothered laugh; to laugh, to - chuckle. - - +Wersells+ } _pron._ Ourselves - +Wersens+ } - - +Wet, To+, _v._ To rain lightly. - - +Wet-shod+, _adj._ Wet as to feet, boots and stockings soaked. - - +Weyfe+, +Wahfe+, _n._ Wife. - - +Wezzel+, _Vide_ +Rezzel+. - - +Wezzle+, _Vide_ +Warzle+. - - +Whack+, _v._ To flog. - - +Whacker+, _adj._ Larger than ordinary. - - +Whahl+, _adv._ Until. _Until_, however, is never heard amongst the - country people, _whahl_ or _while_ being general. - - +Whallack+, _v._ To flog with a stick or strap. - - +Whallacker+, _adj._ _Vide_ +Whacker+. - - +Whallacking+, _adj._ Very large. - - +Whallop+, _v._ To whip soundly. - - +Whang+, +Wheeang+, _n._ A thong. - - +Whang+, _n._ A sudden and heavy drop, or a blow; a thick slice. - Also as a _verb_, to strike a heavy blow. - - +Whanging+, _adj._ _Vide_ +Whallacking+. - - +Whap+, _n._ A sudden movement, a jerk. Ex.—_He went by wiv a whap._ - - +Whap+, _v._ To close with a bang; to give a smart tap on the - knuckles; to flap, as a wing. - - +Whapper+, +Whopper+, _adj._ Huge. - - +What for+, +What for not+, _adv._ Why, why not. - - +What mud be deean+ = No matter what precaution may have been taken. - Ex.—_Ah shuv’d wi’ my back, an’ Billy thrust his hardest wiv a - powl, but doon it cam, what mud be deean._ - - +What one could+, or +‘Ativver he+, +Ah+, or +yan could+ = One’s - very best efforts. - Ex.—_Ah pull’d ’ativver Ah could pull, bud it war ti neea ewse. - Yan did what yan could, bud it war ti larl good._ - - +Whatten+, _pron._ What. Ex.—_Whatten a tahm o’ daay is ’t? Whatten - a sooart ov a thing diz ti call that?_ - - +Whau+, +Wheea+, _pron._ Who. - - +Wheea s’ ow’ ‘t?+ lit. who shall owe or own it, i.e. To whom does - it belong? Who owns it? Ex.—_Wheea s’ ow’ ‘t bairn?_ - - +Whemmel+, _v._ To rock to and fro and then fall over. - - +Whewling+, _adj._ Dizzy. - - +Whewtle+, _v._ To whistle, to squeak. - - +Whidder+, +Wither+, _n._ 1. A rush. 2. A sharp and swinging blow. - Ex.—1. _He did gan by wiv a wither._ - 2. _Ah’ll catch thee sike a wither aback o’ t’ lug if thoo dizn’t - mahnd._ - - +Whiff+, _v._ To puff in short blasts, as smoke sometimes puffs - downwards and into the room. - - +Whiffle-whaffle+, _n._ Idle talk. - - +Whiffley+, _v._ To trifle, to vacillate. - - +Whimly+, _adv._ Quietly, softly. _Vide_ +Whisht+. - - +Whimsey+, _adj._ Changeable, unstable. - - +Whins+, _n._ The gorse. - - +Whipster+, _n._ A doubtful character. - - +Whip-stitch+, _n._ A useless fellow. - - +Whirken+, _v._ To choke. - - +Whisht+, _adv._ Noiselessly, quietly. Ex.—_Them bisittles gans - varra whisht._ - - +Whisht+, _adj._ Silent, noiseless. - - +Whisht+, _intj._ Be quiet! Hush! - - +Whittle+, _n._ A knife. - - +Whittle+, _v._ To shave or slice off with a knife. - - +Whizzle+, _Vide_ +Warzle+. - - +Whoats+, +Whots+, _n._ Oats. - - +Whya+, _intj._ Well. If used at the end of a remark = Very well. - Ex.—Q. _Thoo’ll cum on o’ Sundaay?_ A. _Whya._ - - +Wi’+, _prep._ With. +Wiv+ before a vowel. - - +Wick+, _adj._ Living, lively, vigorous. Ex.—_Ah want yan ’at’s - wick, nut a deead un. By goa, sha’s a wick un, is yon young miss._ - - +Wick+, _n._ Life. Ex.—_This bangs all ’at Ah’ve seean i’ mah wick._ - - +Wicken+, _v._ To gather wickens. - - +Wickens+, +Wicks+, _n._ Couch grass. - - +Wicken-wood+, _n._ The mountain ash, the rowan-tree. - - +Wicker+, _v._ To neigh, whinny. - - +Wicks+, _n._ Seedlings of the whitethorn. - - +Wicksilver+, _n._ Quicksilver. - - +Widdle-waddling+, _v._ To waddle. - - +Widdy+, _n._ A young willow shoot. - - +Wikes+, _n._ The corners of the mouth. - - +Wildfire+, _n._ Erysipelas. - - +Win+, _v._ To attain one’s object by considerable effort. - - +Wind+, _n._ Information, a hint. Ex.—_Ah gat wind o’ what he war - efter. If he gets wind o’ what thoo’s deean, thoo’ll drop in for - ’t._ - - +Wind, To lose one’s+ = To die. ‘Wind’ is often used for ‘breath.’ - - +Winder+, +Winn’l+, _v._ To winnow. - - +Winder+ or +Winn’ling machine+, _n._ A winnowing machine. - - +Windle straw+ or +Winn’l streah+, _n._ A dead stalk of straw or - grass. - - +Winge+, _v._ To threaten to kick (of a horse), to cry peevishly. - - +Winter-hedge+, _n._ A clothes-horse. - - +Wipe+, _n._ A sharp slap, a hurried rub. Also a _verb_. - Ex.—_Ah’ll wipe tha across t’ feeace._ - - +Wire-ling+, _n._ The crowberry plant. - - +Wire-rush+, _n._ The hard rush (_Juncus glaucus_). - - +Wit+, _n._ Knowledge. Ex.—_He hezn’t wit ti deea a job o’ that - sooart. He show’d mair wit ’an what Ah aim’d foor._ - - +Wiv+, _prep._ With. - - +Wivoot+, +Widoot+, _prep._ Without, unless. - - +Wizen+, _v._ and _adj._ To shrivel, to dry up. - Ex.—_Sha’s gitten an au’d wizen’d feeace._ - - +Woomle+, _n._ An auger. - - +Wor+, _Vide_ +War+. - - +Worral-hole+, _n._ A draught-hole let into the wall through a - drain-pipe at the back of the fire, used to burn sea-coal. - - +Worn+, _adj._ Exhausted, used up. Ex.—_Ah’s fairly woorn oot wi’ - t’ job. Ah gat weary an’ worn afoor t’ daay war spent._ - - +Worry+, _v._ To kill. Ex.—_Sha’s nobbut a young un, bud sha’s - worried a ratten alriddy._ - - +Worsen+, +Warsen+, _v._ 1. To make worse. 2. To gain the advantage - of. _Vide_ +Warsen+. - Ex.—1. _Thoo worsens owt ’at thoo puts thi han’ teeea._ - 2. _Ah worsen’d him all t’ waay thruff t’ bargain._ - - +Wostler+, _n._ Hostler. - - +Wrang+, _adj._ Wrong. - - +Wrecklin+, _n._ The last and smallest of a litter or brood. - - +Wringe+, _v._ To whine like a dog, to cry out in pain. Often - +Winge+. - - +Wrizzled+, _Vide_ +Razzelled+. - - +Wrong with, To get+, _v._ To quarrel, to have a misunderstanding. - - +Wrought+, +Wrowt+, _v._ To work, to strive. Ex.—_Neea chap’s wrowt - harder ’an what he hez. Ah’ve wrowt an’ tew’d all t’ daay whahl - Ah’s worn oot._ - - +Wummely+, _v._ To move in a sinuous manner. - - +Wur+, _Vide_ +War+. - - +Wurk+, _Vide_ +Wark+. - - +Wuz+, _Vide_ +War+. - - +Wye+, _n._ A heifer under three years of age. - - +Wyke+, +Week+, _n._ A small bay on the sea-coast. - - - Y. - - +Yabble+, +Yabblins+. 1. Able. 2. Maybe, perhaps. - Ex.—1. _Thoo’ll be yabble ti deea ’t._ - 2. Q. _Will ta leeak in ez thoo passes?_ A. _Yabblins_ (or - _Ablins_) _Ah will_. - - - +Yaccorn+, +Yakron+, _n._ The acorn. - - +Yacker+, _n._ Acre. - - +Yaffle+, _v._ To mumble, to speak indistinctly. - - +Yah+, _num. adj._ One. N.B. +Yah+, unlike +Yan+, is never used - singly, but is always followed by a word agreeing with it, - e.g. ‘Yah chap,’ ‘Yah tahm.’ - Ex.—_Yah daay Ah went wi’ yan on ’em. Yah tahm yan o’ your lads - bunched ma. Yan’s shooting yah things, &c._ - - +Yak+, _n._ Oak. - - +Yal+, _n._ Ale. - - +Yalhoos+, Alehouse. - - +Yam+, _n._ Home. _Vide_ +Heeam+. - - +Yam+, _v._ _Vide_ +Aim+. - - +Yan+, _num. adj._ and _indf. pron._ One. _Vide_ +Yah+. - - +Yance+, _adv._ Once. - - +Yance ower+, Once, at that time. - - +Yank+, _v._ To thrash, to flog. - - +Yap+, _v._ To bark at one’s heels, to talk foolishly. - - +Yark+, _v._ 1. To strike with a switch. 2. To pull out with a jerk. - Ex.—2. _Thi float’s blobb’d unner, yark ’t oot._ - - +Yarker+, _n._ The best of a sample. Ex.—_Tak that un, mun, it’s a - yarker._ - - +Yarking+, _n._ A whipping with a switch. - - +Yarp+, _v._ To shout, to speak loudly. _Vide_ +Yowp+. - - +Yat+, _adj._ Hot. Ex.—_It wur that yat, Ah c’u’dn’t ho’d it._ - - +Yat+, _n._ A gate. - - +Yat-steead+, _n._ The ground covered by the sweep of the gate. - - +Yat-stoop+, +Yat-stoup+, _n._ A gate-post. - - +Yaud+, _n._ A horse or mare, usually on its last legs. - - +Yearn+, _v._ To curdle milk. - - +Yearning+, _n._ Rennet. - - +Yed+, _v._ To make runs underground, as a rabbit, mole, &c. - - +Yedder+, +Yether+, _n._ A young shoot in a hedge, which, being - half cut, is utilized to strengthen some weaker part. - - +Yeead+, +Heead+, Head. - - +Yer-nut+, _n._ The earth-nut (_Bunium flexuosum_). - - +Yet+, _adv._ Still. Ex.—_Is t’ wagon here yet?_ would not imply - ‘Has the wagon arrived?’ but ‘Is it still here?’ - - +Yeth+, _n._ Earth. - - +Yethwurm+, _n._ The earthworm. - - +Yewn+, _Vide_ +Yown+. - - +Yocken+, _v._ To swallow greedily. - - +Yoke+, _n._ The shoulder-bar by which two pails can be carried - with ease. - - +Yoke+, _v._ To buckle the harness on the horse to the shafts. - - +Yon+, _adj._ and _adv._ That, over there. Used demonstratively of - persons and things. - - +Yotten+, _Vide_ +Yocken+. - - +Youst+, _pp._ Used. - - +Yow+, _n._ A female sheep. - - +Yowl+, _n._ A plaintive howl. - - +Yowl+, _v._ To howl, to cry plaintively. - - +Yown+, +Yewn+, +Yuen+, _n._ An oven. Ex.—_Now ’t’s neyce, t’ - yuen’s nivver been yat._ - - +Yowp+, +Yope+, _v._ To cry as a young dog when first kennelled, to - speak in a shrill voice. - - +Yuck+, A curious usage is attached to this word. At any social - gathering in the Cleveland dales, when those assembled have grown - excited, some one will shout, _Yuck foor oor deeal_, to which - another will instantly reply, _Yuck foor Castleton_, or _Yuck - foor_ ——, mentioning his own locality. I fancy in days past it - would be given as a challenge; it now carries with it the sense - of ‘To cheer,’ or ‘Here’s to our dale.’ - - +Yuer+, +Ur+, _n._ The udder of a cow. - - +Yuk+, _v._ To beat. - - +Yuking+, _n._ A beating. - - +Yule-cake+, _n._ A rich plum-cake made for Christmastide, and cut - into on Christmas Eve. - - +Yule-candle+, +-cann’l+, _n._ A large wax candle lighted on - Christmas Eve. - - +Yule-log+ or +-clog+, _n._ The log burnt on the fire on Christmas - Eve. - - - - - CONCLUDING REMARKS - - -It is a fact, and one worthy of all commendation, that every -Yorkshireman considers the dialect spoken in the immediate locality -wherein he was reared, as being not only the best, but the purest. -Doubtless in some cases this is quite correct, but not in all. -Contiguity to other counties has a deteriorating influence, which -naturally extends across both borders, and is sometimes very -far-reaching in its effect. Owing to this and other causes, many of -my readers will find the pronunciation of some words, as given both -in the Glossary and throughout the work, not quite in tune with the -sound in which they daily hear such words uttered. This difficulty -presented itself at the very commencement of the work. A rule had to -be adopted to obtain something approaching uniformity and conciseness. -To accomplish this, area has been chosen; i.e. in all cases in which -a word has several pronunciations, those given in the Glossary and -elsewhere, so far as the writer knows, are the pronunciations most -generally in use throughout the riding. It may be noted, as we approach -the West Riding and South Lancashire, that the vowel sounds of _a_, -_e_, and _o_ have a growing tendency to broaden in sound, often -becoming _u_. This, however, should be carefully guarded against in -writing the dialect of the North Riding[113], as there is ample proof -that over a very wide area the original sound of eighty years ago was -the same as now used in Cleveland. These gradual local alterations form -in time what botanists call sports. - -Many words in such places are to-day passing through a transitional -stage. E.g. let us compare a few words as spoken eighty years ago in -two places I well know, viz. Bedale and Great Ayton. The former is much -nearer the West Riding than the latter, and very forcibly shows the -gradual alteration in pronunciation some words have undergone since -1800. - - -PRONUNCIATION. - - _As used in _As given in │ _As _As pronounced│ - the North a Glossary │ pronounced in the │ _Meaning._ - Riding, published │ in Bedale, West Riding,│ - 1898._ at Bedale, │ 1898._ 1898._ │ - 1800._ - - Chetch Chŭch Church - Deear Doour Door - To’n Tŭ’n Turn - Stor Sturr Stir - Fo’st Fust First - Ez Uz As - Fau’k Fooak Folk - Neeaze Nooaz Nose - Cleease Clooase Close - Ken _or_ Kern Chen _or_ Chun Churn - Diz Duz Does - Wark Wurrk Work - War _or_ Wor Wuz Was _or_ were - Ax’d Ast, Assed Asked - Clais, Cleeas Clooaz Clothes - Deean’t Dooan’t Don’t - Fleear Flooar Floor - Gahin’ _or_ ganning Bown Bahn Going - - -The Glossary contains many words common to other dialects[114], -especially the folk-speech of North Lincolnshire, Cumberland, -Westmoreland, North Lancashire, and East Anglia. - -It may be of interest to note over what a wide area the dialect of the -North Riding is understood and in the main spoken. As an entertainer, I -come in touch with the country people of many places, and I have often -been surprised at the quickness with which the various points in my -dialect sketches have been seized by those of other counties. Naturally -I am able to indulge much more freely, both in dialect and idiom, in -some places than in others. - -The North and West Riding dialects widely differ not only as to -vocabulary, but in drawl and intonation; e.g. take the following -sentences:— - - - NORTH RIDING. Noo, mun, wheear’s ta gahin’ teea? Ah’s gahin’ doon t’ - toon. - - WEST RIDING. Nah, lad, whor’s ta bahn tew? Ah w’ bahn dahn t’ tahn. - - -Hear each sentence uttered by men of their respective ridings, and my -readers will better understand my meaning than from pages of written -explanation. There is also another difference. Whilst many titled -people, and members of the best families in the North and East Ridings, -can, when they have a mind to, speak the dialect fluently, of only a -few of the leading families in the West Riding whom I have met am I -able to say the same thing. There seems to be a feeling that in some -way it would be _infra dig._ to admit ability to speak a word of their -own folk-speech. - -Referring to the wide area over which the dialect of the North and -East Ridings is spoken, granting without questioning slight variation -in pronunciation, the addition of new words, and the loss of familiar -ones as we pass along, we find that practically the same dialect exists -amongst the country folk inside the following rough boundary line. Draw -right-lines commencing at Boston Spa, Lincolnshire, and connecting the -following places, Doncaster, Harrogate, Lancaster, along the coast-line -to Carlisle, thence to Darlington, Stockton, Middlesborough[115], and -along the north-east coast. By so doing you wall in what may be aptly -termed, ‘the north-east folk-speech.’ But far over this imaginary -line, in certain directions, the dialect is understood and appreciated. -This is not surprising when we remember the same races overran and -peopled the whole of the country from the Wash to the Tyne and thence -north-westward. - -They may be easily traced by their place-names—the by’s, thorpes, -cliffs, wicks, dales, &c. - -But if we compare the folk-speech of the district so walled in, with -that of the Danes and their kinfolk, then its Norse origin is seen at a -glance. E.g. take the few following words—scores of the like could have -been given:— - - - _North and _Cumberland _Standard - East and _Danish._ _Scotch._ English._ - Riding._ Westmoreland._ - - Mowdywarp Mowdywarp Muldvarp Moudie Mole - Beck Beck Bæk ... A small - stream - Lake Lake Lege ... Play - Beeal Beel Bjæle ... Bellow - Bield Bield Bylja ... A shelter - (Swedish) - Gah, gan Ga, gang Gaae Ga Go - Neeaf Neif Næve Neive Fist - Bink Bink Bænk Bink Bench - Gliff Gliff Glippe Gliff Quick - glance - Gesling Gezling Gjæsling Gesling Gosling - Gloor Glower Glo Glower Stare - Skrike Skrike Skrige Skreich Scream - Teeam Teem Toomme Toom (to Pour out - empty) - Feck, _n._ - ability - Feckless, Feckless Fik is the Feckless Incapable of - _adj._ past tense providing - of faa, to for oneself - get[116], imp. - tense, feck - - -The Danish, Norwegian, Lowland Scotch, and north-east folk-speech are -closely allied. We must not, however, compare the spelling, but the -general sound of the words. Take the two first lines of the Danish -national song— - - - DANISH. Kong Christian stod ved hoien mast. - NORTH RIDING. King Christian steead byv t’ heegh mast. - - DANISH. I’ Rog[117] og damp. - NORTH RIDING. I’ roke an’ reek. - - -Again, take two lines from a poem in Modern Friesic published in 1834. -The centre lines are from the poem, with the modern North Riding -dialect above and standard English below. - - - NORTH RIDING. What be’st thoo, leyfe? - FRIESIC. Hwat bist dhow, libben? - STANDARD ENGLISH. What art thou, life? - - NORTH RIDING. Fra t’ scepter’d king ti t’ slaave. - FRIESIC. Fen de scepterde kening ta da slave. - STANDARD ENGLISH. From the sceptred king to the slave. - - -For a list of words common to the English, Dutch, and Scandinavian -languages, see _Trans. Phil. Soc._ part i. 1858. - -Much that is written and spoken at the present day is quite over the -heads of our country people. Take the following, from one of our best -authors:—‘He who performs every part of his business in due course -and season, suffers no part of time to escape without profit. And it -is well always to regard the quality rather than the quantity of your -work, and bear in mind, if you delay till to-morrow what ought to be -done to-day, you overcharge to-morrow with a burden which belongs not -to it,’ Our country folk would fully grasp the above if put to them -something like the following:—‘Him ’at diz a daay’s wark iv a daay, -dizn’t waste his tahm, an’ mannishes ti git a bit foor hissel. An’ yan -awlus owt ti aim ti deea t’ bit ’at yan diz deea fo’st-class, mair ’an -aiming ti clash thruff a seet o’ wark onny road; an’ think on, if ya -lig o’ yah sahd whahl ti morn what ya owt ti-deea ti daay, ya saddle ti -morn wiv a boddun ’at it’s neea call ti bear.’ - - - Hah am the rose o’ Sharon and the lily o’ the valley. - - -In a work kindly lent me by my friend Dr. Johnson of Lancaster, and -published some years ago for the Philological Society, the author, -quoting from _Latham on the English Language_, gives the above as a -specimen of North Riding dialect—nay, more, of Cleveland itself. Surely -the writer can never have spent a day in any part of Cleveland, for the -sentence given contains but twelve words, seven of which are distinctly -not Clevelandic. - -The country people, when speaking _naturally_, rarely use the aspirate, -except as an intensive. Otherwise they have little use for it. And when -‘H’ is preceded by the definite article, they do not drop it in the -sense generally understood; the fact is they cannot well sound it, for -this reason—the definite article is ‘t’, ‘the[118]’ being but rarely -used. They could not say ‘t’ horse,’ ‘t’ house,’ ‘t’ hamper,’ &c.; with -them it is, ‘t’ hoss,’ ‘t’ hoos,’ ‘t’ hamper,’ pronounced ‘toss,’ -‘toos,’ ‘tamper.’ - -‘The horse is yoked,’ ‘the hamper is in the wagon,’ and ‘the whip is -under the wheels,’ as spoken, would sound to unfamiliar ears as if the -speaker had said ‘toss is yoked,’ ‘tamper’s i’ twagon,’ and ‘twip’s -unner tweels.’ - -The definite article, to those unaccustomed to our folk-speech, seems -to be entirely wanting. Certainly before _b_, _m_, and _n_ it is only -very slightly sounded, and it becomes the merest touch of the tongue -against the palate when preceding words commencing with _d_ or _t_. -‘Shut the door, the bacon and the beans are on the table,’ would sound -to a stranger as though the speaker said, ‘Shut deear, bacon an’ beeans -is on table’; the speaker having in reality said, ‘Shut t’ deear, t’ -bacon an’ t’ beeans is on t’ table.’ - -To return, however, to the line from Solomon’s Song, given as a -specimen of Cleveland dialect. Let us see what the rendering should -have been. - - - Hah am the rose o’ Sharon and the lily o’ the valley. - Ah’s t’ roase o’ Sharon an’ t’ lily o’ t’ valley. - - -The lower line is North Yorkshire and pure Cleveland, the upper line is -said to be so. - -It has been remarked that the aspirate is almost unknown—so it is as -a letter, but not as an intensive. The aspirate, when misplaced by -those speaking naturally, is only used to add greater force. ‘He’s -mah henemy foor hivver,’ leaves no doubt that the injury sustained is -of an unbridgeable character. Such a sentence, however, holds quite a -different place in grammar, too. ‘Hi hallers taike shagar i’ my tea.’ -The first example is Yorkshire intensified, minus any adjectives, the -first ‘H’ expressing or suggesting some such feeling as implacable, -and the ‘hever’ meaning for ever and ever. The latter is the vile and -affected speech of the upper circles of Yorkshire flunkeys and maids, -who try to improve upon their mother tongue. It holds no place in our -folk-speech. It is hateful, and is only indulged in by those of whom -the old people say, ‘When they start ti knack an’ scrape ther tungs, -what they saay’s nowther nowt na summat,’ i.e. ‘When they begin to talk -affectedly, what they say is neither one thing nor another.’ - -There is one other peculiarity which must be noticed—the possessive -case. I should imagine a hundred years ago its disuse was universal -in both ridings. My reason for so thinking lies in the fact that in -any old books wherein the owners have inscribed their names—and they -usually did (books were valued in those days)—the names are never -written in the possessive case. It is always ‘Tom Smith book,’ ‘Ann -Scott book.’ Even to-day in many places, when speaking, the observance -of the case is conspicuous by its absence. E.g. in the Boroughbridge -and other districts they would not say ‘Jack Wilson’s dog bit Smith’s -calf,’ and ‘Peggy’s cat flew through Nanny’s window,’ but ‘Jack Wilson -dog bit Smith cauf,’ and ‘Peggy cat flew throw Nanny window.’ Such -sentences as ‘Ho’d t’ hoss heead,’ ‘Pull t’ pig lug,’ and ‘Twist t’ -coo tail,’ &c., are still universal in both ridings. The instances -in which the possessive is used, and vice versa, are now about equal -in the North Riding. The peculiar forms of redundancy are many and -curious. ‘Ah nivver at neea tahm sed nowt aboot nowt ti neeabody,’ -simply means, ‘I never said anything to any one. I think the following -example, which I overheard one Yorkshireman say to another just before -the train moved out of Guisborough station, is the finest on record. -‘Whya,’ said he, ‘thoo mun saay what thoo ’ez a mahnd teea, bud think -on, thoo knaws, ’at Ah knaw ’at he knaws, ’at thoo knaws ’at Ah knaw, -all aboot ivverything ’at’s ivver been deean an’ ‘at’s ivver ta’en -pleeace.’ I heard a man say a short time ago, ‘Ah s’ be agate ti git -agate ti set agate Tom fo’st thing ti morn at morn’; i.e. ‘Ah s’ be -agate,’ I shall be about; ’ti git agate,’ to commence work; ’ti set -agate,’ to set Tom to work; ‘fo’st thing ti morn at morn,’ first thing -in the morning. Said one to another, ‘Noo Ah’ll tell ya what, hard -eneeaf, he war neean ower-suited when he fan oot ’at he’d ’ev ti ’ev -’t ower wi’ ma owther thruff or by. An’ noo when Ah’ve fetched him up -ti t’ scrat, he sez ’at he’s putten t’ dog oot o’ t’ road; bud Ah’s -satisfied o’ yah thing, t’ dog rave mah britches, an’ Ah s’all leeak ti -him ti mak ’em good agaan, foor he ’ez a reet ti owther deea that or -’livver summat up i’ lieu on’t; bud Ah reckon nowt o’ what he sez, an’ -that’s t’ len’th on ’t.’ i.e. ‘Noo Ah’ll tell ya what,’ now I assure -you; ‘hard eneeaf,’ without doubt; ‘he war neean ower-suited,’ he was -not over-pleased; ‘when he fan oot,’ when he discovered; ‘’at he’d ’ev -ti ’ev it ower wi’ ma,’ that he would have to talk it over with me; -‘owther thruff or by,’ either one way or the other; ‘an’ noo when Ah’ve -fetched him up ti t’ scrat,’ and now when I have made him toe the mark; -‘he sez ’at he’s putten t’ dog oot o’ t’ road,’ he says that he has -killed the dog; ‘bud Ah’s satisfied o’ yah thing,’ but I am certain of -one thing; ’t’ dog rave mah britches,’ the dog tore my trousers; ‘an’ -Ah s’all leeak ti him ti mak ’em good agaan,’ and I shall expect him to -replace them; ‘foor he ’ez a reet ti,’ for he ought to; ‘owther deea -that or ’livver summat up,’ either do that or give something; ‘i’ lieu -on ’t,’ in place of it (them); ‘bud Ah reckon nowt o’ what he sez,’ but -I place no confidence in anything he says; ‘an’ that’s t’ len’th on -’t,’ and that is the extent of it. - -If the reader masters the abbreviations and elisions facing page 1, -the _pons asinorum_ will have been crossed, and the reading of our -folk-speech found to be a thing easy of accomplishment and a delightful -acquisition. - -It will be well to remember, when reading aloud, that a consonant -with an elided vowel must be joined either to the word preceding or -following, as ’t’ hoss,’ ’t’ hens,’ ‘t’ wax,’ the horse, the hens, the -wax, which would be pronounced ’toss,’ ‘tens,’ ‘twax.’ Again, ‘Sha’s -i’ t’ sulks’ would be ’shas it sulks,’ and ‘Oot wi’ ‘t, put tane ti -t’ ither,’ would be rendered as ’oot wit, put tane ti tither,’ ‘Ah’ve -deean noo, t’ ink’s ommaist dhry i’ mah pen, seea this’ll ’a’e ti be - - - T’ LAP UP ON ‘T.’ - - - OXFORD: HORACE HART - - PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY - - - - - FOOTNOTES: - -[1] ‘Nothing is the same.’ - -[2] Ask. - -[3] Before retiring to rest the older and more superstitious look round -to see if there is a shadowless head thrown on the wall; should any one -cast such a shadow, it is held they will die ere next Christmas Eve -comes round. - -[4] In many of our dales on Christmas morn, no one will leave the house -until some one brings luck in by crossing the threshold with a bit of -green in their hand. - -[5] Also called Pace-egg. The Danish word is Paaskeaeg. - -[6] The small stack often seen in our churches at a harvest -thanksgiving is a survival of the mell doll. - -[7] The stang was ridden at Thoralby, Wensleydale, as recently as -October, 1896. - -[8] The pole was a stang or cow-staff. - -[9] The original was most kindly lent to me by the Lady of the Manor, -Mrs. Chaloner. - -[10] A three-legged race. In this there was nothing unseemly, for a -long way into this century the skirts worn came but little below the -knee. Bear in mind, both in launching and beaching their husband’s or -father’s boat, the women and girls of to-day often rush up to the waist -in the sea to lend a helping hand.} - -[11] Some explanation is needed to make this task understandable. A -large basket (probably a wide creel) had a strong pole thrust through -the wicker-work or handles improvised for the occasion; each end of the -pole was then rested upon some suitable support, leaving the basket -free to swing about a foot from the ground. On each support and near -to the pole a shell or other light object was placed. The thing to be -done would not be easy of accomplishment. Those contending for the -prize had in turn to seat themselves astride of the pole with both -feet inside the basket; thus seated, and firmly grasping the pole -with one hand, they had to knock off the shell with a stick (which in -the meantime they used to steady themselves with), then turn round, -reseat themselves, knock off the other shell, and then get out without -overbalancing. You try it, but have something soft to fall upon. It is -marvellous how soon it is the next person’s turn. - -[12] Thirty years ago it was common. - -[13] The details of the plate-throwing vary slightly in different -localities. - -[14] In some parts it was customary for the winner, after having -removed the garter, to enter the bridal chamber, turn down the bed -clothes, and offer to the bride a hot pot as she entered to remove -her bridal attire, and then salute her; did he omit the latter, he -forfeited the garter. - -[15] I gather from a diary, dated 1625, which has been kindly sent -to me as I am correcting my proof sheets, that originally it was the -bridegroom’s duty to tie on the bridal garters. - -[16] Lusty. - -[17] Sound of wind. - -[18] The story was given me by an eye-witness. - -[19] Only when returning were the guns discharged as a rule. - -[20] Each in turn slipped the garter over his glass on to his wrist. -The garters were nearly a yard long; as used above, the ends were tied -together to form a loop. - -[21] A native of Exelby. - -[22] It would seem these two often worked their charms in company. - -[23] I have no knowledge as to the meaning of these two words; their -real pronunciation may have been lost, or perhaps they are simply cant -words. - -[24] My own opinion is that ‘R. H.’ was William Hird’s father, though -he never admitted it. - -[25] The garland consisted of two hoops intertwined, decorated with -white paper flowers and ribbons, in the centre of which was a white -glove, often home-made, of paper or fine linen, upon which was written -or worked in some fine stitch the initials or name in full and age of -the deceased. According to locality this garland was either carried in -front of the coffin by one of the deceased’s dearest companions, or -laid upon it. This custom might well have been retained. - -[26] And many other places in Cleveland. - -[27] The author is quite aware some other writers state that the fire -is never allowed to die out whilst the corpse is in the room. He never -knew or heard of such a custom, though possibly such may exist. - -[28] In the North Riding, about three miles from Ripon. - -[29] _The Gospelles of Distaues_, published by Wynkyn de Worde about -1530, contains the following:—‘If it happen that somebody stride over a -little childe, know ye for certain that it shall never grow more, but -if (unless) they stride backward over it again. Gloss: Certainly, said -Sebylle, of such thing cometh dwarfs and little women.’ - -[30] Richard Kirby, who gave me the above and several other stories -concerning witches, still lives in Carthorpe, near Bedale. - -[31] Nanny must have been disguised in some way, at least one would -think so, otherwise Mrs. Langstaff would have recognized her at once, -both being natives of that part. - -[32] Inconvenienced, literally ‘cost.’ - -[33] Never accomplished his life’s work, i.e. committed suicide. - -[34] ‘T au’d un,’ or the old one = the devil. - -[35] Possibly this meant the longer he waited there, the longer he -would remain in the river. - -[36] Boyes Wetherell lost his wife on the birth of their first child, a -boy. Boyes tended his bairn with a mother’s love and care, and when the -child was four years old, he tramped all the way to London with the lad -on his back. Once they slept in a grave; but the journey is a story. - -[37] A contemporary of the wise man of Stokesley, but having nothing -like the same reputation. - -[38] An aperient drink. - -[39] A worral hole is a drain-pipe let in the wall immediately at the -back of the fire; this is to afford sufficient draught to burn the sea -coal which is daily gathered from the beach. - -[40] A sucking-pig. - -[41] A cant phrase of the time is used in the original. - -[42] The devil. - -[43] Hand in hand, both touch the floor together. This has already been -referred to. - -[44] Observe the lack of the possessive case. - -[45] The ground covered would be about twenty miles—not bad. - -[46] A woman was adjudged the same punishment at Bedale (for a -different offence) in the year 1779, also at Thirsk and Northallerton. - -[47] For other interesting matter concerning Nan Hardwicke, _vide_ -Henderson’s _Folklore_. - -[48] Observe rice is now being ousted by confetti, which is much -better—rice is so dangerous. - -[49] This statement has nothing to do with his private life, only as -that of a wise man. ‘De mortuis nil nisi bonum.’ - -[50] This would be the father of the Mr. Scorer I knew, who for many -years lived at Basedale Abbey. - -[51] I know that Mr. G. Markham Tweddle holds quite contrary views. His -idea is that Wrightson was little better than a huge swindler. - -[52] For other authentic stories of Wrightson, _vide_ Henderson’s -_Folklore_. - -[53] A small four-legged stool. - -[54] A hedgehog. - -[55] I met a man in the train the other day who said he had often seen -them sucking. - -[56] Henry Wilson, of Broughton, was a wise man of some repute after -Wrightson’s time. - -[57] Something like Sadler and Clarke’s method. - -[58] The usual time was midnight; this case, so far as I know, is -unique. - -[59] Accuse openly. - -[60] To prepare a ‘hand of glory,’ the hand of a man who had been -hanged had to be left for some days in a special kind of pickle; -afterwards it was dried in the sun, and then parched in the smoke of -certain herbs. A special kind of candle had to be made from certain -fats; with this candle lighted and stuck in the dead man’s hand, a -hypnotic sleep could be cast upon a whole household. Henderson’s -_Folklore_. - -[61] There was a marvellous hobman once lived near Ripon, but his deeds -some one writing of the West Riding must chronicle. - -[62] With slight variation the same story is known in other parts of -the riding, also in Lancashire, and is as old as the hills throughout -Scandinavia. - -[63] A similar story is told of Sir Francis Drake. - -[64] See Glossary. - -[65] ‘Ower,’ _prep._ over. - -[66] ‘Ower,’ _adv._ too; ‘ower’ nearly always takes the place of ‘too.’ -‘Ower mich,’ ‘ower monny apples,’ ‘ower big a load,’ ‘ower larl,’ ‘ower -au’d,’ &c. - -[67] This peculiarity, even amongst many educated Yorkshire people, of -repeating the verb is further illustrated in the concluding remarks at -the end of the Glossary. - -[68] Thirsty. - -[69] Really the same simile, common where otters fish. - -[70] Snails. - -[71] The name by which the Grammar School boys were known. - -[72] I have heard children innocently repeating, as they counted each -other out:— - - Prest an, pop an, - Cock on t’ spire, - Holy Alice, - Dah mell fire. - -Did their parents or teachers but know what the youngsters were really -saying, they would be no little shocked. - -[73] Staggerum buck, or Staggerer Staggera bobtail, is the name of a -boys’ game, very commonly played. ‘Philson,’ ‘Valson,’ and ‘Dickson’ -are examples of the elision of the possessive case, i.e. Phil’s son, -Val’s son, and Dick’s son. - -[74] ‘Knave-a’ became general during the War of Independence—we were a -bit out of favour then. - -[75] _Vide_ Grimm’s _Household Tales_. - -[76] As the children tell the story, they pronounce _crooked_, -‘crook-ed.’ - -[77] The story in its original form was a prophetic hymn sung by the -Jews at the Passover, the animals and elements representing their -enemies and deliverers. - -[78] Henderson’s _Folklore_. - -[79] Knotted hair. - -[80] Both pronunciations are equally common. - -[81] Walk. - -[82] Brow. - -[83] Purse. - -[84] ‘Trigg’d his wame,’ filled his stomach. - -[85] ‘Lair,’ a barn. - -[86] ‘Streahy,’ strawy. - -[87] ‘Seeat,’ soot. - -[88] ‘Clais,’ clothes. - -[89] E is used in the original. - -[90] Horse. - -[91] Should be ‘wae’s t’ me,’ lit. ‘woe is to me.’ - -[92] Riding apparel. - -[93] Well dressed. - -[94] Designed. - -[95] Mind. - -[96] Determined. - -[97] False. - -[98] Scythe. - -[99] ‘Window’ is commonly pronounced _winder_, _winner_, and _windther_. - -[100] _At_ is often used instead of _who_, _which_, and _that_. - -[101] The _th_ and _dh_ sound, found in so many East Riding words, is -not nearly so marked in the speech of the North Riding. - -[102] ‘Ya ’evn’t’ and ‘tha ’evn’t’ are not so emphatic as ‘ya’ve nut’ -or ‘tha’ve nut,’ &c. - -[103] Throughout, save in this example, ‘He’ has been so printed, but -without exception its utterance approaches nearer to that of ‘a’ or -‘eh,’ e.g. ‘‘Ez he ta’en ’t fra tha?’ would certainly appear as if the -speaker had said ’‘Ez _a_ (or _eh_) ta’en ’t fra tha?’ But to save the -reader much needless confusion, _he_ has been retained, though it is -rarely heard save at the commencement of a sentence. - -[104] ‘Divn’t’ is quite a common form of ‘do not.’ - -[105] ‘Uz,’ ‘us,’ is often used for ‘me.’ - -[106] Written _gi’en_. - -[107] ‘On,’ prep. ‘of.’ - -[108] Rod = red. - -[109] The old pronunciations of ‘trashing’ for ‘thrashing,’ ‘trepence’ -for ‘threepence,’ ‘trive’ for ‘thrive,’ &c., are frequently heard in -Cleveland. - -[110] Along the borders touching the West Riding ‘Blathery’ is in -common use. ‘Bladdry’ it should be. - -[111] ‘Come’ is always pronounced ‘cum.’ - -[112] The same pronunciation is often used in the sense of ‘to lose.’ -Ex.—‘Thoo’ll lowse thisel,’ or ‘Thoo’ll loss thisel;’ ‘It’s been a -lowsin’ gaame fra t’ fo’st ti t’ last,’ i.e. ‘It has been a losing -game,’ &c. - -[113] In several instances this rule has been broken, but only to give -a correct rendering of the pronunciation as spoken in a particular -district to-day. - -[114] The term ‘dialect’ is used throughout this work for want of a -better word, and to avoid tautology. Our folk-speech is not a dialect, -it is a language. - -[115] The map issued with the North-Eastern 1_d._ Time-table answers -well for the purpose. - -[116] Our dialect word _Fick_, which is the _Fik_ given, has three -distinct meanings: (1) to struggle under some form of restraint; (2) to -strive to obtain; (3) to succeed, to get. - - Ex.—1. ‘T’ pig ficked that hard whahl Ah c’u’dn’t git it inti t’ - cart,’ 2. ‘He made a poor fick on ’t,’ i.e. he made a feeble attempt. - ‘He weean’t mak a fick for ’t,’ he won’t strive to do, obtain, or get. - 3. ‘He ficked it at t’ finish,’ he got it in the end. - -[117] ‘Roke’ is the common dialectic word for mist or fog. ‘Reek’ is -the North Riding word for smoke. ‘Rog’ is the Danish. - -[118] ‘The’ is always used before the name of the Deity, and often in -conversation of a grave and sorrowful nature. - - - - - PUBLIC AND PRIVATE - - HUMOROUS RECITALS - - OF HIS - - _Original Character Sketches in the Yorkshire Dialect_ - - (AS SPOKEN IN THE NORTH RIDING) - - ARE GIVEN BY THE AUTHOR - - AT - - DRAWING-ROOMS IN TOWN OR THE PROVINCES, - AT HOMES, HOUSE PARTIES, - RECEPTIONS, PRIMROSE LEAGUES, - LITERARY SOCIETIES, CONCERTS & BAZAARS,&c. - - - _Secretaries of Literary Societies will oblige by booking their dates - as early as possible for a Lecture entitled_, - - ‘Customs and Folklore of the North Riding.’ - - - _TERMS, VACANT DATES, TESTIMONIALS AND SYLLABUS - FORWARDED ON APPLICATION._ - - -NOTE.—_A reduced fee is offered to Clergymen of small parishes booking -a date during the months of September, October, or November._ - - - _Address_— - R. BLAKEBOROUGH, Society Humorist, - 24 Trent Street, Stockton-on-Tees. - - - - - Price One Shilling. 206 pp. 8vo. - - _MORE THAN A DREAM._ - - (A NOVEL.) - - PUBLISHED BY ARROWSMITH. - - _BY THE AUTHOR OF ‘WIT, CHARACTER, - FOLKLORE, CUSTOMS,’ &c._ - - - NOTICE. - -For the last five years, to augment the funds of Bazaars, &c., when -desired, I have offered for sale copies of the above, giving one half -of the amount realized towards the object of the Bazaar, &c. But the -inconvenience of carrying a supply from place to place has been very -great. Therefore I have determined to dispose of the remaining 1,000 -copies to my readers at half-price. - -A COPY of ‘More than a Dream’ will be forwarded to any address on -receipt of - - EIGHT STAMPS. - - - _Address_— - R. BLAKEBOROUGH, - 24 Trent Street, Stockton-on-Tees. - - - - -LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS - - - A. - - ALLISON, Dr. T., 9 Picton Place, Newcastle. - - ALLISON, F., Church Green, Guisborough. - - ANDERSON, TEMPEST, M.D., J.P., St. Agnes-gate, York. - - ANDERSON, Major F. H., Fulford, York. - - ANDERSON, W., Rimswell, Thornaby-on-Tees. - - ARGLES, C. G., St. Clement’s Vicarage, York. - - ASHTON, The Right Hon. Lord, Rylands, Lancaster. - - - B. - - BACKHOUSE, C. H., J.P., Darlington. - - BARKER, E., Cleveland House, West Hartlepool. - - BARKER, G., Tancred Grange, Scorton. - - BARLING, Dr. A. S., Dalton Square, Lancaster. - - BARRACLOUGH, W., Swainby. - - BAYNES, Alderman JNO., J.P., Ripon. - - BEATTY, Dr. H. J., Van Mildert House, Stockton-on-Tees. - - BECK, Mrs., Carthorpe House, Bedale. - - BECKETT, E. W., M.P., 17 Stratton St., Piccadilly, W. - - BELL, HUGH, J.P., Red Barnes, Redcar. - - BELL BROS., Ltd., Middlesbrough. - - BERESFORD PIERSE, Mrs., The Hall, Bedale. - - BEST, Mrs., 31 Lyddon Terrace, Leeds. - - BETHELL, Miss L., Newton Kyme, Tadcaster (2 copies). - - BEVERLEY, The Right Rev. Lord Bishop of, Bolton Percy. - - BIRCH, Mrs., Middleham, R.S.O. - - BIRD, Col. C. H., Crookhey Hall, Garstang, Lancashire. - - BLACKETT, Capt. C. M., Newsham Hall, Darlington. - - BLAIR, Gen., V.C., C.B., Thorpe Hall, Wycliffe, Darlington. - - BLANDFORD, Dr. J. M., Norton, Stockton-on-Tees. - - BOHR, VON, Mill Hill, Brandsby. - - BOWES-WILSON, T., Enterpen Hutton, Rudby (2 copies). - - BOWSTEAD-WARWICK, P., Settlebeck, Sedbergh. - - BRAMLEY, W., Church St., Guisborough. - - BRIGGS, Rev. A. C., Moor Allerton. - - BROOKSBANK, E. C., Helaugh Old Hall, Tadcaster. - - BROWN, F., J.P., Norton, Stockton-on-Tees (2 copies). - - BROWN, W. T., Yew Court, Scarborough. - - BUCHANNAN, G., Whitby, Yorkshire. - - BURRA, R., The Hall, Gate, Sedbergh. - - BURRELL, Miss, Fairthorn, Botley, Hants. - - BURTON, Rev. B. C., The Rectory, Cherry Burton, Beverley. - - BURTON, D. F., The Hall, Cherry Burton, Beverley (2 copies). - - BUTCHER, J. S., M.P., 22 Collingham Place, S.W. - - - C. - - CADLE, C. E., 5 North Bailey, Durham. - - CARLISLE, The Right Hon. Lady, Naworth Castle. - - CARPENTER, Admiral the Hon. W. C., Kipling Hall, Northallerton. - - CARTER, Rev. E. S., St. Michael’s-le-Belfry, York. - - CARTER, T., J.P., Richmond, Yorkshire. - - CAYLEY, DIGBY, J.P., Brompton, R.S.O. (4 copies). - - CHALONER, Mrs., Long Hull, Guisborough. - - CHAPMAN, Mrs., The Cliff, Leyburn. - - CHARLTON, W., North Eastern Bank, Durham. - - CLARKE, A. F., The Ven. Archdeacon of Lancaster (2 copies). - - CLEGG, J., 1 Spring Bank, Preston. - - COBB, C., Clifton, York. - - COLLIER, Rev. CARUS, Great Ayton. - - COLLINSON, S., Royal Hotel, Scorton. - - COLLISON, W., 79 Fenchurch St., London. - - COMERLINE, Rev. A. S., York. - - CONING, T., 28 Bankment, York. - - COPER, Rev. J. M. A., Robin Hood’s Bay. - - CORNEY, Miss, Newton Hall, Great Ayton. - - CRADDOCK, C., J.P., Grove House, Wakefield. - - CRUSHER, T., Forest Farm, Scorton. - - - D. - - DALE, Sir DAVID, Bart., West Lodge, Darlington. - - DALTRY, The Rev. VERNON G., The Rectory, Yarm. - - DAWNAY, Col., The Hon., Benningbrough Hall. - - DENT, Miss I., Ribston Hall, Wetherby. - - DERBY, Right Hon. Earl, K.G., Knowsley, Prescot. - - DIXON, DAVID, Brotton Hall. - - DIXON, D. D., Coquetdale House, Rothbury. - - DIXON, Sir RAYLTON, Kt., Gunnegate Hall, Cleveland. - - DURHAM, The Right Rev. the Lord Bishop of. - - - E. - - EAVES, Mrs., The Vicarage, Lyminge. - - ECCLES, E. E., Fenton House, Lancaster. - - EDMUNDSON, C. F. P., Nutwith House, Masham. - - ELLERTON, Dr. J., Grove Hill, Middlesborough. - - ELLIOTT, C., The Lodge, Scorton. - - EMMERSON, J. J., Easby Hall, Great Ayton (4 copies). - - - F. - - FALLOW, T. M., Coatham House, Redcar. - - FAWCET, Miss, North Bailey, Durham. - - FIFE, Capt., Langton Hall, Northallerton. - - FLINTOFF, C., The Grange, Scorton. - - FORBES, C. M., 14 New St., York (2 copies). - - FOSTER, MARTIN, Claremont, Norton. - - FOWLER, Rev. J. C., Whorlton, Northallerton. - - FRY, J., Cleveland Lodge, Great Ayton. - - - G. - - GADDESDEN, Mrs., Hunmanby Hall, East Yorkshire (2 copies). - - GALLIMORE, J. S., Escrick, York. - - GAUSSEN, Rev., The Vicarage, Malton. - - GILPIN BROWN, Mrs., Sedbury Park, Richmond, Yorkshire - (6 copies). - - GISBORNE FAWCETT, T., Yarm (2 copies). - - GRAVELY, A. C., Hutton Grange, Guisborough. - - GRAY, The Right Hon. Lady Mayoress, York (2 copies). - - GREENBANK, THOS., Bank of Liverpool, Sedbergh. - - GREENWOOD, Capt., Swartcliff Hall, Leeds. - - GREGSON, B. P., The Hall, Caton, Lancaster (2 copies). - - - H. - - HALES, Rev., Aysgarth School, Jervaulx (2 copies). - - HAMILTON RUSSELL, The Hon. CONSTANCE, Brancepeth Castle. - - HARRISON, W., North Road, Ripon. - - HARTLEY, Mrs., The Rectory, Burneston. - - HAWKE, The Right Hon. Lady, Wighill Park, Tadcaster. - - HAWKINS, C., Sowerby, Thirsk. - - HEAD, Mrs. J., Hartburn Hall (2 copies). - - HEAVISIDES, J., Stockton-on-Tees. - - HEDLAM, Rev. A. W., Gainford (2 copies). - - HEPPENSTALL, Rev. F. W., East Layton (2 copies). - - HESLOP, R. O., 12 Arkenside Hill, Newcastle. - - HILL, Miss, Romanby. - - HILL, J., Newport, Middlesborough. - - HINCKS, Capt. J. C., Terrace House, Richmond (2 copies). - - HORSFALL, E. F. WILSON, Potto Grange (2 copies). - - HOWARD, Rev. R. G., Hovingham. - - HUDDART, Rev. G., Kirklington. - - HULTON, ——, Bolton-le-Moors, Lancaster. - - HUTTON DARCY, Miss E., Aldborough Hall, Masham. - - HULL, The Right Rev. Lord Bishop of. - - HUNTER, Rev. C., Seaton Carew. - - HUNTER, Rev. F. W., Wath. - - - I. - - INGLEBY, Sir H., Bart., Ripley Castle. - - IRWIN, Rev. J., Hurworth. - - IRVIN, Major, Ragworth, Norton. - - - J. - - JAMES, Rev. F. G., The Rectory, Marske. - - JEFFERSON, J., Dunnington Priory, York. - - JOHNSON, Dr., Dallas Road, Lancaster. - - JOHNSTONE, The Hon. Miss, Hackness Hall (8 copies). - - JOHNSTONE, The Rev., Hackness Hall. - - JONES, ED., Manor House, Scorton. - - - K. - - KEARSLEY, Col. G., Prospect House, Ripon. - - KENNEDY, Mrs., Wetherby. - - KING, F. E., Edgley, Leyburn. - - KIRK, W., Norton. - - KITCHIN, A. E., The Firs, Great Ayton. - - KITCHIN, H., The Grange, Great Ayton (2 copies). - - KNIGHT, Rev. J. G. P., Eastgate, Darlington. - - - L. - - LANGLEY, W. C., J.P., Stockton-on-Tees. - - LASCELLES, The Hon. G. E., Sion Hill, Thirsk (2 copies). - - LEADMAN, Dr. ALEX. D. H., Pocklington. - - LEE, J. B., The Worshipful the Mayor, Ripon. - - LEGARD, J. H., Welham, Malton. - - LESLEY, Mrs. A., The Hall, Little Habton. - - LEVETT, Rev. T. P., Richmond, Yorkshire. - - LOCKWOOD, P. H., Sedbergh. - - LODGE, Col., The Rookeries, Bishopdale. - - LONDESBOROUGH, The Right Hon. Lord, Londesborough Park. - - LONGBOTHAM, Dr. G. F., Birtley. - - LOVEJOY, Rev. H. T., Hamsterley, Bishop Auckland. - - - M. - - MACCARTIE, Rev. J., Wilton. - - MASON, O. MATTHEWS, The Hall, Crayke. - - MATTHEWS, F. W., The Bank, Leyburn. - - MAULE-COLE, Rev. E., Wetwang. - - MAYNARD, A. C. HUTTON, Pickhill House, Pickhill (2 copies). - - M^CCRIRICK, Rev. T. W., Stockton-on-Tees. - - M^CKAY, W., Haldthorpe House, Scarborough. - - MELROSE, J., Clifton Croft, York. - - METCALFE, R. M. D., Leyburn. - - MICKLE, Dr. G., Kirklington (2 copies). - - MIDDLETON, Lady, The Right Hon. JULIA, Setterington House (4 copies). - - MILNER, Mrs., The Mount, York (2 copies). - - MITCHELL, Rev. A. P., The Rectory, Brotton (2 copies). - - MITTAN, Rev. H., Sherburn House, Durham. - - MOORSOM, M. MAUDE, Harewood, Leeds. - - MORGAN, Rev. F. H., The Rectory, Guisborough. - - MORRIS, Rev. M. C. F., The Rectory, Nunburnholme. - - - N. - - NELSON, Alderman THOS., J.P., Newstadt, Norton. - - - O. - - ORD, CHAS., Guisborough. - - ORNSBY, J. A., 5 North Bailey, Durham. - - ORTON, Mrs. E. S., Westgate, Guisborough. - - OXFORD, The Right Rev. the Lord Bishop of. - - - P. - - PAGE, J. W., J.P., Norton, Stockton-on-Tees (2 copies). - - PEARSON, H., Whitby. - - PEASE, A. E., M.P., Pinchingthorpe Hall (2 copies). - - PEASE, Mrs. G., Woodside, Darlington. - - PEASE, HOWARD, Arcott Hall, Dudley, Northumberland. - - PEASE, Sir JOSEPH W., Bart., M.P., Hutton Hall (2 copies). - - PEASE, PIKE, Undercliff, Great Ayton. - - PECKSTONE, J., Stockton-on-Tees. - - PEEL, The Right Hon. Lady, Potterton Hall, Barnoldswick. - - PEGLER, T. B., Sholebrook Avenue, Leeds. - - PEIRSON, Rev. W. B., Rothwell, Leeds. - - PLATNAUER, H. M., St. Olive’s Road, York (2 copies). - - PLEWS, W. J., Southend End, Northallerton. - - POLLEXFEN, Rev. H., Stanwick, Darlington. - - PORTER, CHAS., Mill Vale, Great Ayton. - - PRINCE, E., Woodhouse Moor, Leeds (2 copies). - - PROUD, J., The Hall, East Layton. - - PURVIS, R., 6 Westoe Crescent, South Shields. - - - R. - - RAW, Rev. G., 250 Hawthorne Road, Bootle. - - REYNARD, Capt., Camp Hill, Bedale. - - RICHARDSON, W., Guisborough. - - RICHMOND, The Right Rev. Lord Bishop of (4 copies). - - RIDDELL, E. C., J.P., The Hall, Leyburn. - - RIDDELL, Sir J., Bart., The Hall, Hepple, Rothbury. - - RIPLEY, Rev. THOS., Kirklington. - - RIPON, The Most Noble the Marchioness of. - - RIPON, The Right Rev. Lord Bishop of. - - RIPON, The Very Rev. the Dean of (2 copies). - - ROBINSON, F. J. H., Easingwold. - - ROBINSON, Rev. STEWART, The Rectory, Richmond, Yorkshire. - - ROBINSON, Rev. W., The Rectory, Tadcaster. - - ROPNER, G., J.P., The Grove, Richmond, Yorkshire. - - ROPNER, Col. R., J.P., Preston Hall, Egglescliffe. - - ROWCLIFFE, H. S., Guisborough. - - ROWSELL, Rev. Canon, Topcliffe. - - RUDD, A. G., The Worshipful the Mayor, Stockton-on-Tees. - - - S. - - SALMAN, Rev. J. S., The Vicarage, Lastingham. - - SCOTT, Rev. ERRINGTON, The Vicarage, Norton. - - SEDGWICK, Miss, The Hall, Sedbergh. - - SHAND, Dr., Fountain Street, Guisborough. - - SHARP, F. J., Skelton, near Boroughbridge. - - SHEFFIELD, The Right Hon. Lady, Yeadon Manor, Henley-on-Thames - (2 copies). - - SISSONS, D. W., North Ferriby, Brough. - - SISSONS, W., Nunthorpe, Jesmond Park. - - SLINGSBY, W., Red House, Moor Monkton, York. - - SMITH ALDERSON, G. A., J.P., D.L., Scarborough. - - SMITH, E. J., The Bank, Bridlington (4 copies). - - SMITH, T. RUDOLPH, 25 Bridge Road, Stockton-on-Tees. - - SOMERSON, J., Pocklington. - - SPRENT, Dr. W. S., Slingsby. - - STANBRIDGE, T., The Hall, Harlsey. - - STANNYFORTH, Capt. E., J.P., The Hall, Kirkhammerton. - - STARKIE, Miss S., Scarthwaite, Lancashire. - - STAVELEY, Miss, Old Slenningford Hall, Ripon. - - STIRLING-NEWALL, Mrs., The Hall, Birtley, Durham. - - STOBART, ——, The Hall, Spellow Hill (2 copies). - - STOBART, Col. W., Pepper Arden. - - STOREY, Sir THOS., D.L., Lancaster (2 copies). - - ST. QUINTIN, W. H., J.P., Scampston Hall (2 copies). - - STRICKLAND, Sir C., Bart., Boynton Hall (2 copies). - - STRICKLAND CONSTABLE, Mrs., The Hall, Wassand (2 copies). - - SUDLOW, THOS., Stockton-on-Tees. - - - T. - - TATTERSAL, O., Green Royd, Ripon (2 copies). - - TAYLOR, J., Brotton Grange, Brotton. - - TEMPLE, Miss M., Saltergill, Yarm. - - TETTLEY, A., The Right Hon. Lady Mayoress, Leeds (2 copies). - - THOMSON, J. S., New Buildings, Thirsk (2 copies). - - TINDAL, Miss, Kirby Misperton Hall, Pickering. - - TOMLINSON, Miss, Heysham House, Lancaster. - - TOMLINSON, Rev. W., Vicarage, North Cave. - - TREVOR, W. C., Overbeck, Guisborough. - - - V. - - VIE, E. J., Paradise Row, Stockton-on-Tees (2 copies). - - - W. - - WADE, E. W., 5 Clyde Terrace, Hull. - - WADE-DALTON, Col. HAMLET COOTE, C.B., Hawxwell Hall. - - WAKEFIELD, The Right Rev. Lord Bishop of. - - WALDY, Rev. A. G., Horsley Vicarage, Derby. - - WALKER, Capt. GERALD, Hill House, Richmond, Yorkshire. - - WALKER, Sir J., Bart., 41 Belgrave Square, S.W. - - WARD, Rev. H., The Rectory, Amotherby. - - WATSON, FRED. BYERS, Stockton-on-Tees. - - WATSON, THOMAS, M.D., Argyle House, Stockton-on-Tees (2 - copies). - - WEST, Mrs., Stoneybrough, Thirsk. - - WHITE, Col. W. A., J.P., Clifton Green, York. - - WILLAN, Rev. A., The Vicarage, Copmanthorpe. - - WILLIAMSON, T., J.P., Fairfield, Ripon. - - WILSON, Miss A., Hutton House, Hutton Rudby. - - WILSON, Mrs. A., Rockhurst, York (2 copies). - - WILSON, I., Nunthorpe Hall. - - WILSON, Rev. J. ALDER, Craythorne Rectory, Yarm. - - WILSON, J. G., 12 South Bailey, Durham (2 copies). - - WILSON, P., Bedale. - - WILTON, R., The Rev. Canon, Londesborough. - - WIMBUSH, Rev. S., The Rectory, Terrington. - - WITHINGTON, Rev. R., Rectory, Great Ayton. - - WOOD, F. MAURICE DALE, Swainby, Northallerton. - - WOOD, Rev. F., The Rectory, Nunthorpe. - - WRIGHT, Professor J., M.A., Langdale House, Oxford (2 copies). - - WYNDHAM, Mrs., 31 Cambridge Street, Hyde Park, S.W. - - WYNNE FINCH, Mrs., Manor House, Stokesley. - - - Y. - - YEOMAN, Miss C., Prior House, Richmond, Yorkshire. - - YORK, His Grace the Archbishop of. - - - Z. - - ZETLAND, The Right Hon. Lord, Aske Hall, Richmond, Yorkshire. - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wit, Character, Folklore and Customs -of the North Riding of Yorkshire, by Richard Blakeborough - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NORTH RIDING OF YORKSHIRE *** - -***** This file should be named 62999-0.txt or 62999-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/9/9/62999/ - -Produced by Brian Coe, Les Galloway and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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