Th' best o' folk need'n bidin' wi' a bit, sometimes. See yo, tae this cheer; it's as chep sittin' as stonnin', for ought aw know. Aw'll find you some gradely good stuff [oat cake]; an' it's a deael howsomer [wholesomer] nor loaf, too, mind yo. It's some o' a cowd neet. Meh nose fair sweats again. Thee 'rt noan one o' th' warst mak' o' folk, as rough as t' art. "That's just reet," as Ab' o' Pinders said when his woife bote her tung i' two. Owd woman, yo desarv'n a cumfutabble sattle'ment i' th' top shop [heaven] when yo de'en. By th' mass, iv aw're heer a bit moor, aw'd mae some rickin i' this cawve-cote [some noise like springing a watchman's rattle in this calf-house] too. Whay, mon yo'dd'n fair sink into a deead sleep, an fair dee i' th' spell, iv one didn't wakkin yo up a bit neaw and then. Aw'd goo as far as owther graiss grew, or waytur run, afore aw'd live amoon sich doins. By Guy, he's hardly wit enof to keep fro' runnin' again waytur. Thi' dd'n just getten a yure o' th' owd dog into 'em ; an' they sit afore th' fire, as quiet, to look at, as two pot dolls. Up [chimbley] wi' tho; soot's good for th' ballywurch; an' it'll be a bit ov an' eawt for tho. Yo're a rook o' th' biggest nowmuns at ever trode ov a floor. Aw never sprad my e'en upo' th' marrow trick to this i' my loife. Are yo noan flayed o' throwing yor choles [jaws] off th' hinges? Ther's moor in his yed nor a smo'-tooth comb con fot eawt. It's enough to ma'e onybody cry their shoon full. A bad trade'll spoil a good mon sometimes, iv he'll stick weel to 't. Keep yor peckurs up. Tho' we live'n o' th' floor, same as layrocks, We'n goo up, like layrocks, to sing. Theaw geawses within two tumbles ov a leawse. I oather anger't some he-witch, or the Dule threw his club o'er me 't mornin when I geet op; for misfortins coom on me as thick as leet. Fworse is medsn for a mad dhog. Proof o' th' puddin's i' th' eatin. Sich wark as this ma'es me t'scrat where aw dunno itch. Thoose 'ut couno' tell a bitter-bump fro' a gillhooter [a bittern from an owl]. As sure as a tup's a sheep. They'n th' bigg'st meawths i' yon country at ever aw seed clapt under a lip! Aw hove one on 'em his yure up, to see iv his meauth went o' reawnd; but he knockt me into the dhitch. He's one o' thoose at'll lend onybody a shillin', iv they'n give him fourteenpence to stick to. On receiving a present of game from a son.—It isn't so oft 'at th' kittlin brings th' owd cat a meawse, but it hes done this time. Thae 'rt to white abeawt th' ear-roots to carry a gray toppin whoam, aw deawt. Aw wouldn't lend te a dog to catch a ratton wi. [Some statesmen might do] to sceawr warps, or to wesh barrils eawt at th' back o' th' Bull's Yed; but are no moor fit to govern a nation nor Breawn at the Shore, or Owd Batterlash, at beat waytur far runnin! Boarding 's t' best laving (i.e., putting the feast on the board is the best invitation). Love's a philter, they sayn, to mak' th' dead wick [quick]. As uneasy as a keeper wi' varmint. Better so than run off fleyed [affrighted] loike a heawnd cotched poaching. A mow o' hay's as soft i' moi arms as moi owd wench. Colliers v. Farm Labourers.-What t' farreps, mon, dost gaum [suppose] us chaps as tears t' guts eawt o' th' eairth arn nobbut a set o' gaumrils [dullards] an' neatrils [idiots], loike fellies as scrat holes for praties loike rattons, an' niver crooks their backs but t' mow gress, or t' ma'e a doike? Thae be far. To the question,-"What have you got there?" a common reply is-" Lay-o'ers [lay-overs, i.e., thumps] for meddlers." To the query, "Where did you get it?" the answer is, "Where Kester [Christopher] bought his coat." To the further inquiry-"Where wur that?" the ready reply is, "Where 't wur to be hed." PROVERBS. He that would have his fold full Must keep an old tup and a young bull. He who will have a full flock Must have an old stagge [gander] and a young cock. A cod's head is a cod's head still, Whether in a pewter or a silver dish. Good-will, when getten, is as good as gowd [gold]. A creaking door hangs long o' th' hinges. There's a hill again a slack, all Craven through. (About equivalent to "every bean hath its black.") "No, thank you," has lost many a good butter-cake. He'll go through th' wood, and ta' th' crummock [crooked stick] at last. Candlemas-day coom and goan, Th' snow lies on a whot stoan. If you willn't when you may, The third time throws best; or, pays for all. Stroke with one hand and strike with the other. When ability faileth friendship decayeth. He shall find my frowns lie buried with his follies, and my favours to be revived with his good fortunes. 'Bout's bare, but it's yeasy. Bout, Lancashire for without, i.e., he that is without money is bare, but it is easy [safe] travelling-he has no fear of robbery. John Byrom quotes this proverb in a letter after noticing an alarm about highwaymen, and adding-" This is a terror that poor folks know nothing on." POPULAR RHYMES AND PROVERBS. WE take the following, which relate to the north-eastern and north-western borders of Lancashire, from a paper, by Mr A. C. Gibson, Esq., F.S.A., on " Popular Rhymes and Proverbs." As to the prosperous and beautiful village of Bowness, on Windermere "New church, old steeple, Poor town, and proud people." The Vale of Troutbeck opens upon Windermere about midway between Bowness and Ambleside, and is divided into three Hundreds, each of which maintains a bridge over the stream, a bull for breeding purposes, and a constable for the preservation of order,-severally known as "the Hundred Bridge," &c. Hence the men of Troutbeck are given to astonish strangers by boasting that their little chapelry possessed "three hundred bridges, three hundred bulls, and three hundred constables." It is probable that some revengeful victim of this quibble perpetrated the following : "There's three hundred brigs i' Troutbeck, Three hundred bulls, |