THE r olk-Opeech of L^umberland AND SOME DISTRICTS ADJACENT ; SHORT STORIES AND RHYMES IN THE DIALECTS OF THE WEST BORDER COUNTIES. BY ALEXANDER CRAIG GIBSON, F.S.A. What hempen Home-spuns have we swaggering here. A Midsummer Night's Dream. Speech, manners, morals, all without disguise. The Excursion. THIRD THOUSAND. LONDON: JOHN RUSSELL SMITH. CARLISLE: G. & T. COWARD. MDCCCLXXIII. TO WILLIAM DICKINSON, OF NORTH MOSSES AND THORNCROFT, F. L. S., Author of "A Glossary of Cumberland Words and Phrases," "Lamplugh Club," "A Prize Essay on the Agriculture of Cumberland," "The Botany of Cumberland," &c., &c., &c., THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED, IN CORDIAL RECOGNITION OF THE PRE-EMINENT INDUSTRY AND SKILL DISPLAYED IN HIS ELUCIDATIONS OF THE HOMELY SPEECH OF OUR NATIVE COUNTY, AND IN GRATEFUL ACKNOWLEDGEMENT OF THE UNFAILING SYMPATHY AND THE KINDLY HELP WITH WHICH HE HAS BRIGHTENED A FRIENDSHIP OF MANY YEARS. 1047588 PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. One or two of the Cumberland stories included in this volume, as well as some of the pieces in rhyme, have already been circulated very largely in newspapers, pamphlets, and collections. Their re- appearance, along with many hitherto unpublished additions, in this aggregated form, is due mainly to the popularity attained by them separately. Whether they may be as popular in this more pretentious guise as in their humbler, and perhaps, more appro- priate form, remains to be tried. I claim superiority over most of the earlier workers in the same philological ground in respect of the greater purity of my dialect. The Cumberland speech as written herein is pure Cumbrian, as the speech of the Scottish pieces, introduced for variety's sake, is pure Scotch. Miss Blamire, Stagg, Ander- son, Rayson, and others, have all written their dialect pieces, more or less, in the ,SVtf/0-Cumbrian which prevails along the southern side of the west Border. In other respects my inferiority to those deservedly popular writers is sufficiently evident But, as ex- positions of the folk-speech of those parts of the County where, and where only, the unadulterated old Norse-rooted Cumbrian vernacular is spoken, I claim for these Tales and Rhymes the distinction of surpassing all similar productions, excepting only the dialect writings of my friend Mr. Dickinson, and perhaps the Borrowdak Letter of Isaac Ritson, and the Gwordie and Will of Charles Graham. I should not omit to state however, that Mr. John Christian of London, and a writer who assumed the nom de phime of Jack Todd, have evinced in their contributions to the local press, a mastery over the dialect of Whitehaven and its vicinity which makes us wish that their pens had been more prolific. For the illustrations I have attempted of the speech of High Furness and its Westmorland border, I ask no such distinction. The dialect there, as in the adjacent parts of Cumberland, is vitiated by an intermixture of that of the County Palatine, of which Furness forms a portion ; and as it is spoken, so, if written at all, should it be written. These appear here for the reason already assigned for the introduction of the Rhymes given in the dialect of Dumfriesshire. The work rests its claims to favourable consider- ation entirely on its value as a faithfully rendered contribution to the dialect literature of the country. No higher estimate is sought for it. The produc- tion of its various contents has been an occasional amusement indulged in during some of the intervals of leisure and repose afforded by pursuits of a more important, more engrossing, and it is hoped, a more useful character, with which, had it in any wise interfered, it had not been proceeded with. Its composition has been a relaxation, not a task ; a divertisement, not an occupation ; and had its success when published been deemed incompatible with these conditions, it had not appeared. BEBINGTON, December i8tA, 1868. C O N T E N T S Joe and the Geologist T Reels on't Bobby Banks' Bodderment Wise Wiff Lai Dinah Grayson Jwohnny, git oot ! The Runaway Wedding Billy Watson' Lonning Lone and Weary T' Clean Ned o' Kes'ick Ben Wells Sannter Bella Branthet Neiik Boggle Mary Ray and- Me (Cumberland) . I (Ibid.) . 6 (Ibid.) 15 (Ibid.) . 23 (Ibid. ) 3i (Ibid.) . 34 (Ibid.) 36 (Ibid.) . 39 (Ibid.) 42 (Ibid.) . 44 (Ibid.) 48 (Ibid.) . 51 (Ibid.) 54 (Ibid.) . 63 Vlll. The Bannasyde Cairns (High Furness) . 66 Betty Yewdale (Ibid.) . 7i The Skulls of Calgarth (Westmorland) . 76 Map'ment (High Furness) 86 Oxenfell Dobby (Ibid.) . 89 Meenie Bell (Dumfriesshire) 96 A Lockerbye Lycke (Old Scotch) 99 The Farmers' Wives o' Annandale (Dumfriesshire) . 109 A Reminiscence of Corrie (Ibid.) . 112 Reminiscences of Lockerbie (Ibid.) . 122 Yan o' t' Elect (Cumberland) . 129 Keatie Curbison's Cat (Ibid.) . 134 Joseph Thompson's Thumb (Ibid.) 137 Cursty Benn (Ibid.) . MS Tom Railton's White Spats (Ibid.) . 148 A Sneck Posset (Ibid.) . i54 Remarks on the Cumberland Dialect . . 157 Glossary . 163 JOE AND THE GEOLOGIST. A het foorneun, when we war oa' gaily thrang at beam, an oald gentleman male' of a fellow com' in tul ooar foald an' said, whyte nateral, 'at he wantit somebody to ga wid him on't fells. We oa' stopt an' teuk a gud leuk at him afoor anybody spak ; at last fadder said, middlin' sharp-like (he ola's speaks that way when we're owte sa thrang, does fadder) " We've summat else to deu here nor to ga rakin ower t'fells iv a fine day like this, wid neabody kens whoa." T'gentleman was a queerish like oald chap, wid a sharp leuk oot, grey hair and a smo' feace drist i' black, wid a white neckcloth like a parson, an : a par of specks on t'top of a gay lang nwose at wasn't set varra fair atween t' e'en on him, sooa 'at when he leuk't ebbem at yan through his specks he rayder turn't his feace to t'ya side. He leuk't that way at fadder, gev a lal chearful bit of a laugh an' said, iv his oan mak' o' toke, 'at he dudn't want to hinder wark, but he wad give anybody 'at ken't t'fells weel, a matter o' five shillin' to ga wid him, an' carry two 1 2 Joe and the Geologist. lal bags. "Howay wid tha, Joe," sez fadder to me, " it's a croon mair nor iver thoo was wurth at beam ! " I mead nea words aboot it, but gat me-sel' a gud lump of a stick, an' away we set, t' oald lang nwos't man an' me, ebbem up t' deal. As we war' climmin' t'fell breist, he geh me two empty bags to carry, mead o' ledder. Thinks I to me-sel', " I's gan to eddle me five shillin' middlin' cannily." I niver thowte he wad finnd owte on t' fells to full his lal bags wid, but I was mistean ! He turn't oot to be a far lisher oald chap nor a body wad ha' thowte, to leuk at his gray hair and his white hankecher an' his specks. He went lowpin owre wet spots an' gurt steans, an' scrafflin across craggs an' screes, tul yan wad ha' sworn he was summat a kin tul a Herdwick tip. Efter a while he begon leukin' hard at oa't' steans an' craggs we com' at, an' than he teuk till breckan lumps off them wid a queer lal hammer he hed wid him, an' stuffin t' bits intil t' bags 'at he geh me to carry. He fairly cap't me noo. I dudn't ken what to mak o' sec a customer as t'is ! At last I cudn't help axin him what mead him cum sea far up on t'fell to lait bits o' steans when he may'd finnd sea many doon i't' deals ? He laugh't a gay bit, an' than went on knappin' away wid his lal hammer, an' said he was a jolly jist. Thinks I to me-sel, thou's a jolly jackass, but it maks nea matter to me if thou no'but pays me t' five shillin' thou promish't ma. Joe and the Geologist. 3 Varra weel, he keep't on at this feckless wark tul gaily leat at on i't' efter-neun, an' be that time o' day he'd pang't beath o't' ledder pwokes as full as they wad hod wid bits o' stean. I've nit sea offen hed a harder darrak efter t' sheep, owther at clippin time or soavin time, as I hed followin' that oald grey heidit chap an' carryin' his ledder bags. But hooiver, we gat back tul oor house afoor neeght. Mudder gev t' oald jolly jist, as he co't his-sel', some breid a-n' milk, an' efter he'd tean that an' toak't a lal bit wid fadder aboot sheep farming an' sec like, he pait ma me five shillin' like a man, an' than tel't ma he wad gi' ma udder five shillin' if I wad bring his pwokes full o' steans doon to Skeal-hill be nine o'clock i't' mwornin'. He set off to woak to Skeal-hill just as it was growin' dark ; an' neist mwornin', as seun as I'd gitten me poddish, I teuk t' seam rwoad wid his ledder bags, ower me shoolder, thinkin' tul me-sel' 'at yan may'd mak a lal fortune oot o' thur jolly jists if a lock mair on them wad no'but come oor way. It was anudder het mwornin', an' I hedn't woak't far till I begon to think that I was as gurt a feul as t'oald jolly jist to carry brocken steans o't' way to Skeal-hill, when I may'd finnd plenty iv any rwoad side, clwose to t' spot I was tackin' them tul. Sooa I shack't them oot o' t' pwokes, an' than stept on a gay bit leeter widout them. 4 Joe and the Geologist. When I com nar to Skeal-hill, I fund oald Aberram Atchisson sittin on a steul breckan steans to mend rwoads wid, an' I ax't him if I med full my ledder pwokes frae his heap. Aberram was varra kaim't' an' tell't ma to tak them 'at wasn't brocken if I wantit steans, sooa I tell't him hoo it was an' oa' aboot it. T' oald maizlin was like to toytle of his steul wid laughin', an' said me mudder sud tak gud care on ma, for I was ower sharp a chap to leeve varra lang i' this warld ; but I'd better full my pwokes as I liked, an' mak' on wid them. T' jolly jist hed just gitten his breakfast when I gat to Skeal-hill, an' they teuk ma intil t' parlour tul him. He gurned oa't feace ower when I went in wid his bags, an' tell't me to set them doon in a neuk, an' than ax't ma if I wad hev some breakfast. I said I'd gitten me poddish, but I dudn't mind ; sooa he tell't them to bring in some mair coffee, an' eggs, an' ham, an' twoastit breid an' stuff, an' I gat sec a breakfast as I niver seed i' my time, while t' oald gentleman was gittin' his-sel' ruddy to gang off in a carriage 'at was waitin' at t' dooar for him. When he com doon stairs he geh me t'udder five shillin' an' pait for my breakfast an' what he'd gitten his-sel. Than he tell't me to put t' ledder bags wid t' steans in them on beside t' driver's feet, an' in he gat, an' laugh't an' noddit, an' away he went. I niver owder seed nor heard mair of t' oald jolly jist, but I've offen thowte ther mun be parlish few Joe and the Geologist. 5 steans i' his country, when he was sooa pleas't at gittin' two lal iedder bags full for ten shillin', an' sec a breakfast as that an'. It wad be a faymish job if fadder could sell o' t' steans iv oor fell at five shillin' a pwokeful wadn't it 1 T ' REETS ON'T; Another Supplement to '"''Joe and the Geologist." BY JOE HIS-SEL'. "A supplement to Joe and the Geologist, by another hand," appeared some time ago, in the Whitehaven Herald, and was afterwards published as a pamphlet. Joe, is represented therein as giving to a comrade called Tommy Towman, an account of his second meeting with the Geologist, and making himself seem conscious of having played an ugly trick, and appealing to his old friend's clemency on the ground that his father was dead ; and thinking his character misconstrued, of course unintentionally, here gives "T" Reets on't." JHAT Tommy Towman's a meast serious leear an', like o' leears, he's a desper't feul. By jing ! if I bed a dog hoaf as daft I wad hang't, that wad I ! He gits doon aboot Cockerm'uth an' Wurki'ton, noos an' thans ; an' sum gentlemen theear, they tak' him inta t' Globe or t' Green Draggin, an' just for nowte at o' else 7' Reels out. 7 but acoase they think he kens me, they feed him wid drink an' they hod him i' toak till he can hardly tell whedder end on him's upbank ; an' than they dro' him on to tell them o' mak's o' teals o' mak's but true an's aboot me ; an' t' pooar lal gowk hesn't gumption aneuf to see 'at they're no'but makin' ghem on him. But, loavin' surs ! if he'd hed t' sense of a gurse ga'n gezlin he wad niver ha' browte oot.sec a lafter o ; lees as he's gitten yan o' them Wurki'ton gentlemen (yan 'at ken's weel hoo to write doon oor heamly toke) to put inta prent ; an' what mak's yan madder nor o' t' rest, to put them i' prent just as if I'd tel't them me-sel'. I's nut t' chap to try to cum ower an oald jolly jist wid whinin' oot " Fadder's deid!" when ivery body kens 'at fadder's whicker nor meast on us. My sarty ! he's nin o' t' deein' mak' isn't fadder. We s' hev to wurry fadder when his time cums, for he'll niver dee of his-sel' sa lang as ther's any wark to hoond yan on tull. An' I needn't tell any body 'at knows me, 'at I was niver t' chap to tak' in owder a jolly jist or any udder feul; an' if I was, I's nut a likely fellow to be freeten't for what I'd done. But ther's m'appen sum 'at doesn't ; ah' mebbee ther's a lock 'at doesn't know what a leear Tommy Towman is, an' sooa, bee t' way o' settin' me-sel' reet wid beath maks, I'll tell ye what dud ga forret 'atween me an' t' jolly jist t' seckint time he com tul Skeal-hill. 8 T Reefs out. I said afooar 'at I'd niver seen mair o' t' oald jolly jist, an' when I said that, I hedn't ; but ya donky neet last summer fadder hed been doon Lorton way, an' 't was gaily leat when he gat heam. As he was sittin' iv his oan side o' t' fire, tryin' to lowse t' buttons of his spats, he says to me, " Joe," says he, "I co't at Skeal-hill i' my rwoad heam." Mudder was sittin' knittin' varra fast at hur side o' t' harth ; she hedn't oppen't .her mooth sen fadder co' heam, nay, she hedn't sa much as leuk't at him efter t' ya hard glowre 'at she gev him at t' furst ; but when he said he'd been at Skeal-hill, she gev a grunt, an' said, as if she spak till neabody but hur-sel', "Ey ! a blinnd body med see that." " I was speakin' till Joe," says fadder. "Joe," says he, "I was at Skeal-hill" anudder grunt "an" they tel't me 'at thy oald frind t' jolly jist's back agean I think thu'd better slip doon an' see if he wants to buy any mair brocken steans ; oald Aberram hes a fine heap or two liggin aside Kirgat. An', noo, 'at I've gitten them spats off, I's away to my bed." Mudder tok a partin' shot at him as he stacker't off. She said, "It wad be as weel for sum on us if ye wad bide theear, if ye mean to carry on i' t' way ye're shappin' ! " Noo, this was hardly fair o' mudder, for it's no'but yance iv a way 'at fadder cu's heam leat an' stackery ; but I wasn't sworry to see him git a lal snape, he's sae ruddy wid his snapes his-sel'. I ken't weel aneuf he was no'but mackin' ghem o' Z" Reets orit. g me aboot gittin' mair brass oot o't' oald jolly jist, but I thowte to me-sel', thinks I, I've deun many a dafter thing nor tak' him at his wurd, whedder he meen't it or nut, an' sooa thowte, sooa deun ; for neist mworning' I woak't me-sel' off tull Skeal-hill. When I gat theear, an' as't if t' jolly jist was sturrin', they yan snurtit an' anudder gurn't, till I gat rayder maddish ; but at last yan o' them skipjacks o' fellows 'at ye see weearin' a lal jacket like a lass's bedgoon, sed he wad see. He com back laughin', an' said, " Cum this way, Joe." Well, I follow't him till he stopp't at a room dooar, an' he gev a lal knock, an' than oppen't it, an' says, "Joe, sur," says he. I wasn't ga'n to stand that, ye know, an' says I, " Joe, sur," says I, " he'll ken it's Joe, sur," says I, "as selm as he sees t' feace o' me;" says I, "an' if thoo doesn't git oot o' that wid thy 'Joe sur,'" says I, "I'll fetch the' a clink under t' lug 'at '11 mak' the' laugh at t' wrang side o' that ugly mug o' thine, thoo gurnin yap, thoo ! " Wid that he skipt oot o't' way gaily sharp, an' I stept whietly into t' room. Theear he was, sittin at a teable writin t' grey hair, t' specks, t 7 lang nwose, t' white hankecher, an' t' black cleas, o' just as if he'd niver owder doff't his-sel' or donn't his-sel' sen he went away. But afooar I cud put oot my hand or say a civil wurd tull him, he glentit up at me throo his specks, iv his oan oald sideways fashion but varra feurce-like an' gruntit oot sum'at aboot io T' Reels out. wunderin' hoo I dar't to shew my feace theear. Well ! this pot t' cap on t' top of o'. I d chow't ower what fadder said, an' hoo he'd said it i' my rwoad doon, till I fund me-sel' gittin rayder mad aboot that. T' way 'at they snurtit an' laugh't when I com to Skeal-hill mead me madder ; an' t' bedgoon cwoatit fellow wid his "Joe, sur," mead me madder nor iver; but t' oald jolly jist, 'at I thowte wad be sa fain to see me agean, if 't hed no' but been for t' .seak of oor sprogue on t' fells togidder wunderin' 'at I dar't show my feace theear, fairly dreav me rantiri mad, an' I dud mak a brust. "Show my feace!" says I, "an" what sud I show than 1 ?" says I. "If it dims to showin' feaces, IVe a better feace to show nor iver belang't to yan o' your breed," says I, "if t' rest on them's owte like t' sample they've sent us ; but if ye' mun know, I's cum't of a stock 'at niver wad be freetn't to show a feace till a king, let alean an oald newdles wid a creukt nwose, 'at co's his-sel' a jolly jist : an' I defy t' feace o' clay," says I, " to say 'at any on us iver dud owte we need sham on whoariver we show't oor feaces. Dar to show my feace, eh ? " says I, " my song ! but this is a bonnie welcome to give a fellow 'at's cum't sa far to see ye' i' seckan a mwornin'!" I said a gay deal mair o't' seam mak', an' o' t' while I was sayin' on't or, I sud say, o't' while I was shootin' on't, for I dudn't spar' t' T' Reefs out. 1 1 noise t' oald thief laid his-seF back iv his girt chair, an' keept twiddlin' his thooms an' glimin' up at me, wid a hoaf smurk iv his feace, as if he'd gitten sum 'at funny afooar him. Efter a while I stopt, for I'd ron me-sel' varra nar oot o' winnd, an' I begon rayder to think sham o' shootin' an' bellerin' sooa at an oald man, an' him as whisht as a troot throo it o' ; an' when I'd poo't in, he just said as whietly as iver, 'at I was a natteral cur'osity. I dudn't ken weel what this meen't, but I thowte it was soace, an' it hed like to set me" off agean, but I beatt it doon as weel as I cud, an' I said, " Hev ye gitten owte agean me?" says I. "If ye hev, speak it oot like a man, an' divn't sit theear twiddlin yer silly oald thooms an' coa'in fwoke oot o' ther neams i' that rwoad ! " Than it o' com oot plain aneuf. O' this illnater was just acoase I hedn't brong him t' steans 'at he'd gedder't on t' fells that het day, an' he said 'at changin' on them was ayder a varra durty trick or a varra clumsy jwoke. " Trick ! " says I. " Jwoke ! dud yd say ? It was rayder past a jwoke to expect me to carry a lead o' brocken steans o' t' way here, when ther' was plenty at t ! spot. I's nut sec a feul as ye've tean me for." He tok off his specks, an' he glower't at md adoot them ; an' than he pot them on agean, an' glower't at m6 wid them ; an' than he laugh't an' ax't me if I thowte ther' cud be nea difference i' steans. "Whey," says I, "ye'll hardly hev t' 1 2 T' Reefs orit. feace to tell me 'at ya bag o' steans isn't as gud as anudder bag o' steans an' suer/j/ An' far an' wide the'r manors spread ooer forest, field, an' fell ; But now ther's nit i' t' cuntryside a steeatsman o' their neeam Ther's Philipsons, but o' work hard for breead like me mysel'. " For niver thinkin' they'd aneeuf, and strivin' still for meear, They wantit ivery scrap o' land the'r nebbers held aboot ; An' many a pooer man's grund they gat, by meeans nit ol'a's fair An' lang o' that grund-greed o' theirs, this teeal o' mine fell out. The Skulls of Calgarth. 8 1 "An ald-ly man nar Burthet leev't, his neeam was Kraster Cook, An' whyetly his life hed ron wi' Dorot'y his deeam. A conny lile bit farm was theirs, a lown an' sunny neeuk, An' t' hoose 'at's theear upon it still keeps up aid Kraster' neeam. " Myles Philipson wad offen toak wi' Kraster Cook an' t' wife, An' priss them hard the'r bit o' land ut swap wi' him or sell ; But beeath o' t'em at last spak' oot they'd rayder part wi' life Ner sell or swap a single yird of infield land or fell. "'Ye s' part wi' 't than,' said Philipson, as ran tin mad he rooar'd, ' I'll hev that bit o' land o' yours, sud yee be 'live or deead.' An' Kraster fund 'at efter that as if ther was a sooard 'At hed to fo' when t' time co' round, still hingin' ooer his heead. 6 82 The Skulls of Calgarth. "Bit nowte com on't till t' Kersmas time, an' than till aid Co'garth They went wi' t' tudder nebbors, kindly ex't to t' Kersmas feeast ; An' t' best o' t' seeats at t' supper booard, an' warmest neeuk at t' hearth Wer' theirs, for t' squire hed ooerder't 'at they sud be that mitch greac't. "Bit seeun they fund that Kersmas treeat mud cost 'em parlish dear, For Philipson pertendit 'at they'd stown a silver cup, An' Cook's house was ratch't through an' through, an' t' silver cup fund theear, Heead theear, girt like, o' purpose an' t' aid cupple wer' teean up. "An" for the'r lives they triet 'em beeath, an' beeath condemn't to dee. Myles Philipson was theear, an' Dolly glooer't him hard i' t' feeace, As meear ner plowmb she rais't hersel', an', ten-able ut see, She spak' thir wurds i' seccan a skrike as rung through t' justice pleeace : The Skulls of Calgarth. 83 " 'Ey, gud thysel', Myles Philipson thou thinks th'u's mannish't grand ; Thou thinks th'u's hooal't our lile bit grund, and gitten't o' for nowte, Bit, harks t'e here, Myles Philipson that teenie lump o' land Is t' dearest grund a Philipson hes ayder stown or bowte ; " 'For yee sail prosper niver meear, yersel', nor yan o' t' breed ; Whativer schemes yee set a geeat 'ill widder i' yer hand, Whativer side yee tak' 'ill Iwose ; an', spite of o' yer greed, A time 'ill come when t' Philipsons wi' n't awn an inch o' land. "An', while Co'garth's strang wo's sail stand, we'll ha'nt it neet an' day, Ye s' niver mair git shot on us, whativer way ye tak'; Whativer plan or geeat ye try, ut banish us away, Ye'll hardly kna' we irr away afooer ye see us back. 84 The Skulls of Calgarth. "An 1 suer aneeuf, neist Kersmas, when they'd nit been twelvemonth deead, (They'd buriet t' pooer aid fooak wi' lime, whar the' wor putten doon,) Two skulls steead in a hooel i' t' wo', aside o' t' wide stair heead, At aid Co'garth, an' theear they gurn't, a warnin' fray aboon. "An', ivery mak' o' pains they teeuk ut git 'em druven away They buriet them, they born't them weel, they bray't them till they brak', They sunk 'em full't wi' leed i' t' lake, they pash't 'em deep i' clay, But just as Dolly said they wod, they still co' gurnin' back. "An' theear they've gurn't an' gurn't ageean, for many a hundert year, An' scooars o' fooak ha' seen 'em theear it's neea lees I tell Till t' Bishop( 2 > wo't 'em up i' t' hooal, bit still they're gurnin' theear, For just afooar he wo't 'em up, I seed them theear mysel'. The Skulls of Calgarth. 85 "An" t' Philipsons went doon an' doon, the'r schemin' o' went wrang, Though offen for a sinkin' coase they meead a gallant stand ; Fray t' steeat rowls about Windermer' the'r neeam hes vanish't lang, /divn't kna' a Philipson 'at hods an inch o' land." NOTES. 1. In a foot-note to West's Guide to the Lakes, published first about 1770 its 5th edition being dated 1793 the author or editor suggests certain other modes of accounting for the presence of the famous skulls of Calgarth, but fails in offering anything so satisfactory as the popular version here done into rhyme. The writer of the note appears to have seen them himself, and I have known more than one old person, , besides John Long, who averred that in their youth, they had seen the said remains occupying their immemorial position. The misfortunes of the Philipsons of Calgarth and Crook are matter of local history, and with some o their recorded exploits, make them, perhaps, the most interesting family of the two counties. 2. Dr. Watson, the celebrated Bishop of Llandaff, who acquired the estate of Calgarth, and long resided upon it, but not at the old Hall. He is always spoken of by the old people who remember him as " 7" Bishop." 86 MAP'MENT. (IN THE DIALECT OF HIGH FURNESS.) Map'ment Martha map'ment ! Thow kna'sn't what thow says An' thow fair torments my heart owt Wi' thy lile contrairy ways It's oa' a heeap o' map'ment Ut say 'at this or that Sud meeak us put it off ageean Thow toaks thow kna'sn't what ! We irrn't rich, an' mayn't be ; What than !- wi' time an' keear, An' pu'in' weel togidder, We may meeak our little meear. We s' niver, I's insuer us, Be neeak't or clemm'd or cald, But spar' a ho'penny or two Ut cheer us when we're aid. Map'ment. 87 Let's feeace it, Martha, feeace it, Whativer cums behint ! God niver sends a mowth wi'owt A sum'at ut put in't. We s', happen, hev a mowth or two Ut feed besides owr a'n, What matter they s' be welcome o' Ut share whativer's ga'n ! We s' ol'a's hing togidder weel, An' beeath du what we can A borden 's leeter shared by two, Nor when it's borne by yan. But if we's plagued wi' trubble, (An' wha's fray trubble free ?) I' s' try ut lig thy share tull mine, An' kep it oa' fray thee. An' if we's pooer, we s' sham' nin, For rich fooak's no'but fooak ; An' wha can tell, we s' happen dra Sum' prize fray fortun's pooak. But wrowte-for punds ga's farder far Nor hundreds 's gi'en or fund ; An' sum' may be to t' fooer for t' barnes When we ga under t' grund. 88 Map'ment. Cum let's hev nea meear map'ment, But gradely feeace owr chance ; I 's off ut put owr exin's in, An' git it deeun at yance. Cum ! gi' 's a kiss o' t' heead on 't, An' meeak na meear ut du ; My hand 's here, wi' my heart in 't, Tak' them beeath thou s' niver rue ! OXENFELL DOBBY. A Reminiscence of Langdale. JCCOMPANIED by the holder of a small farm in the dales, I was once riding up Yewdale sometime beyond the middle of a winter night. The fields on our right and the slopes and ledges of the screes and fells to the left and in front were shrouded in a vestment of frozen snow, which glared under the starlight with a brilliancy of reflection that rendered the absence of the moon unnoticed and uncared for. But the scattered groves and coppices to the eastern side, and the perpendicular craggs elsewhere, on neither of which the snow could rest as it fell, stood out black and dismal blotches sable on a field argent (queer heraldry this, but so suggested) with an intensity of gloom, a weird dreariness of aspectj which may hardly be realized by those who have 9O Oxenfell Dobby. looked upon Yewdale only when arrayed in the light verdure of spring, the matured leanness of summer, or the marvellous variegation of autumn, under any one of which conditions that fair vale may fairly claim pre-eminence in beauty over all other minor dales of the Lake country. On the occasion I tell of, the solemn desolation of the scenery, and the oppressive silence, broken only by the quick tramp of our ponies' feet on the crisp snow, combined to discourage all thought of conversation or remark ; and we traversed the whole length of the vale without the interchange of sentence or word. When, however, we had reached the point where the road to Tilberthwaite and Langdale Head diverges from that to Skelwith, and I was about to follow the latter, my companion laid his hand upon my rein,' and said, in a rather peremptory tone, " We s' teeak t' tudder rooad, if yee pleease ;" and on my objecting to quit the smoother and shorter road for the longer and rougher, he persisted " It may bee as yee say, beeath t' better an' t' bainer, bit nowte wad hire me to teeak t' rooad ooer Oxenfell at this hour o' t' neet, an' that's o' about it." "But why 1 ?" I remonstrated, disinclined to yield in a matter of such importance to reasoning like this. "Is' tell yee why," he replied, " when we's seeaf at my awn fireside, if ye sud ha'e time ut lissen." " Is it a story?" I asked with some interest. "It's nowte Oxenfell Dobby. 9 1 mitch of a stooary," said he, "bit what ther's on't 's true, an' that's meear ner can be said for many a better stooary. Bit cum on, an' ye s' happen hear." I resisted no longer, and we pursued our journey through Tilberthwaite, where the piebald dreariness of the scenery was even more marked and more depressing than in Yewdale. We reached our destination without disaster, but not without danger. The broad, deep ford in the stream, which there divides the two counties, and which we had to cross, was edged on either bank by a high, abrupt shelf of strong ice, very dangerous to slidder off, and very difficult to scramble upon. Indeed, my fellow traveller, with his rough, clumsy little steed, more accustomed to the stangs of muck-cart or peat sledge than to saddle work, had a roll on the farther side luckily rolling towards the land, and not into the water. But my sagacious old "Targus," who, as I was wont in those days to boast, could carry me over any ground on which a mountain goat or a Herdwick sheep could find a foot-hold, after testing the strength of each slippery ledge by a heavy paw or two, traversed the dangerous passage with the same steadiness with which I had known him pace over others where a slip or a stumble would have had much more serious results. Seated comfortably at the grateless peat fire of my travelling companion, now my host, and assured of the probability of leisure to hear his story out, I 9 2 Oxenfell Dobby. reminded him of the condition under which he had induced me to take the longer and less practicable way to his fell-girt house ; and after some coy deprecation, which sat awkwardly enough upon his homely features and dale nurtured manner, he began. "Just about ten year syne, of just sic anudder neet as t'is, only t' sna' wasn't frozzen, I was out efter t' yars." "Poaching?" I interpolated. "Co't as ye like," said he, in a tone of indifference. " I was out efter t' yars. I'd gitten a yar or two ooer about Holme grund way, an' I was meeakin' heeam alang t' rooad atvveen Hodge Clooas an' Oxenfell Cross, when I thowte I was ga'n ut meet sum fellows I cud heear toakin', bit cudn't see. Ye kna', t' rooad's o' heets an' hooals theear about, an', for that reeason, I dudn't think mitch o' nit seein' 'em; bit whoaiver they med be, I dudn't want them ut see me. Sooa I gat ooer t' steean fence wi 1 t' gun an' t' yars, an' croodel't doon aback on't ut let 'em git whyetly by. Well, they com on, an', as I cud hear, they wor fratchin cruelly o' t' way as t'ey com. Ther' was two on 'em, plain aneeuf, for sum'times yan spak', an' sum'times anudder, an', gaily oft, they beeath spak' at yance. As they co' narder till whar I was hidin', t' fratch gat feurcer an' louder ner iver, an' they shoutit, t' yan ooer t' tudder, whedder ut shout t' harder; bit for o' that, I cudn't meeak out a wurd 'at they said. When Oxenfell Dobby. 93 they gat ebben fornenst me, yan o' them let out a meeast terrable skrike, an' I lowpt back ooer t' wo' ut seeav life. Ther 1 was ne&body theear 7 They wor rooarin' an' screeamin' wi'in six yirds o' me, as I streetent mysel' up ut lowp t' wo', an' when I gat to me feet o' t' tudder side ther' was nowte ! An' meear ner that, ther' wasn't a feeut-mark i' t' sna' bit my awn, an' they co' t' tudder way. How I gat heeam \vi' my gun an' my yars I kna'n't, an' I niver mun kna' bit when I wacken't i' t' mooernin' theear was t' gun an' yars atop o' t' teeable, an' theear was I i' my bed. "An' now I've telt ye t' reeason 'at I wodn't cu' heeam by Oxenfell Cross. I niver hev been, 'cept i' dayleet, on t' rooad whar them fellows woaks, an' I niver will, sa lang as I can git anudder 'at's less nor a scooer o' miles about." "Then is that road said to be haunted?" I enquired. "Said to be ha'ntit !" he exclaimed, in a tone of wonder and contempt. " Whar ha'e yee been o' yer life, if ye hevn't hard o' Oxenfell Dobby 1 " " Has it been seen by any one besides you?" "Ey," replied he, "by hunderts o'.fooak! Why, bless yd ! aid Ben Grave gat seckan a torn as he was cumin' heeam yance leeat frae Haks'ed fair, 'at he dud na meear gud. He niver wod tell what it was, bit ivery body was suer 'at it was flayin' o' sum mak', an 'a varry sairious mak' tu, for, as I said, aid Ben niver dud no meear gud efter that neet bit dwinet away an' deet." 94 Oxenfell Dobby. " Is it known," I asked, " how the place came to be haunted ?" " Why ! It is partly. It's kna'n an' it isn't kna'n as a body may say bit I can tell ye o' 'at's kna'n about it, if y6 like ut hear." "Tell away then," said I, "I like to hear." "Well! " he again began, "Ya Kersmas, afooer I can mind, ther' was a hake aboot Clappersgeeat, an' ther' was a stranger at it 'at varry few kna't owte about bit it seeun gat out 'at he was a new Scotch gardener 'at hed just cum't tull Rydal Ho'. As t' neet went ooer fooak nooatisht 'at he was girtly teean up wi' lile Betty Briggs a lively, rooesy-cheek't bit of a winch 'at com' frae Tilberthet. Betty hed an aid sweetheart theear 'at they co't Jack Slipe ; bit she was sa pleeas't wi' t' new an' 'at she wodn't hev owte ut say tull Jack. It was plain aneeuf tull o' theear 'at he dudn't hoaf like't ; an' when t' Scotch- man kiss't Betty i' t' cushion dance, t' fooak aside o' Jack cud hear his teeth crack as he grand 'em togidder. "When t' dance brak' up t' gardener wod see Betty heeam, an' as Betty hed nowte ut say ageean it, they set off togidder up t' rooad alang t' Brathay an' Jack Slipe follow't by his-sel' a gay bit behint 'em. " T' Scotch gardener niver co' back tull Rydal Ho'. He was niver seen ageean wi' neabody. He partit wi' Betty at her fadder duer i' Tilberthet she said an' that was t' last on^him ! " "And was Oxenfell Dobby. 95 nothing ever heard of him ] " I enquired. " Why ! nowte 'at was owte. Theear was a hoaf silly lass about Chapel-Steel 'at said she'd hed t' Scotchman' heead iy her brat ya meeunleet neet bit when she was teean up an' quees't about it, they cud meeak nowte out on her, an' they let her lowce. It was said 'at Jooahn Turner, 'at hed t' Oxenfell farm afooar Grave fooak, fund t' beeans ^of a Christian yance when he was cuttin' a drain iv his pastur', bit it was niver leuk't intull, an' Jooahn said lile about it." "And what about Jack Slipe?" "Well ! queerly aneeuf, he weddit t' lass 'at dud o' t' mischief, an' dee't afooar he was an aid man, leeavin' Betty wi' a yung family. He was niver kna'n ut smile or teeak part iv any spooart. He ol'a's hed a wild scar'tly leeuk : as he woak't alang a rooad he keept glimin' furst ooer t' ya shou'der an' than ooer t' tudder, an' he niver durst bide by his-sel' efter t' darkenin'. He leev't sarvant for a while wi' aid Jooasep Tyson of Yakrow, an' wheniver aid Joo'ep seed any o' them signs of a bad conscience, he wod say, ' Cum ! Dyne the', Jack, thou med as gud confess. Thou kna's thou dud it ! ' Bit whedder Jack dud it or nit neabody can tell for suer. An' that's t' way it mun rist ! " M EENIE BELL. |ULL ye meet me, Meenie Bell ? Wull ye tryste yince mair wi' me 1 Where the sauchs half hide the burnie as it wimples on its way 4 When the sinking sun comes glentin' through the feathery birken tree, Till ye'd trow a thousand fairy fires wer' flichterin' on the brae. Wull ye meet me, Meenie Bell ? Wull ye say ye'll meet me there ? An' come afore the gloamin' fa's to hear what I've to tell ? For I'm gaun away the morn, an' I'll weary lang an' sair 'Or I see ye're bonnie face again sae meet me, Meenie Bell ! Meenie Bell. 97 I'll be far away frae Middlebie for monie an' monie a day; An' I want ae curl o' gowden hair to treasure evermore. I've a keepsake braw for you, an' I've something mair to say Aye ! a hantle mair to tell ye than I've ever tellt afore. Thus I fleech't wee Meenie Bell till her heart grew soft an' kin' An' she met me near the burnie as the simmer gloamin' fell ; We pairtit or 'twas day, an' o' a' the nichts I min' The brichtest in my mem'ry is that nicht wi' Meenie Bell. I thocht her heart was troth-fast, but my image faded oot, An' a stranger took the place in't that she said she'd keep for me ; For time gaed creeping on, an' her hopes changed into doobt, An' doobt to caul' mistrustm', while I toilt ayont the sea. 98 Meenie Bell. I've warselt wi' the worl' weel I've run a wunnin' race, But, aih ! I'm of en wushin' when I maunder by mysel', An' a' my weary strivin's through lang lanesome years I trace, I had bidden puir i' Middlebie and mairiet Meenie Bell. 99 "A LOCKERBYE LYCKE."