his hand an’ it wor all blooidy.  ‘Awr Ike’s cut his throit,’ he sed, ‘Whativer mun aw do?’ An he wor just gooin to yell aat ‘Police!’ when who should come up but his brother.  Th’ seet on him tuk a gurt looard off Sid’s mind, but yet he wor varry freetened.  ‘What’s th’ matter, Sid,’ sed his brother, ’tha luks ill; Isn’t th’ pluck all reight?’ ‘Th’ pluck’s gooan,’ sed Sid, shakkin his heead an’ puttin his hand on his heart.  ’Gooan!—­Aw’ll niver goa into that bell-chamer ageean as long as aw live!  Aw’ve allus sed, if a chap ’ll rob another ov his livin, he’ll rob him ov his life if he’s a chonce.’”

“‘Well aw wor just thinkin a gooin for th’ police,’ sed Sid, ’but we dooant know who it is.’  Its one o’th’ ringers as sure as we’re here.’  ‘Hi, its one o’th’ ringers noa daat, but aw hooap he hasn’t a wife an’ a lot o’ childer.’  ‘Well,’ sed Ike, ’if he has, an taks it hooam for ’em to ait, aw hooap it’ll chooak th’ lot on ’em.’  Just as he sed this, all th’ rest o’th’ ringers coom up, an’ were capt to find Ike an’ Sid soa excited, soa pairt cluthered raand one an’ pairt raand tother, an’ Sid tell’d one lot ‘at a chap had cut his throit i’th’ bell chamer, an’ Ike tell’d tother ’at somdy’d stown his sheep’s pluck.  ’Well we mun goa an see,’ sed some on ’em, an they gate some leets an away they went up.  Ike wor th’ first an’ Sid th’ last.  When they gate into th’ chamer, Ike saw th’ pluck hung up just whear he’d left it, an’ he turned raand an’ saw Sid peepin off th’ corner o’th’ door.  ‘This is one o’ thy tricks, Sid,’ sed Ike, but th’ words wor hardly aat ov his maath befoor Sid wor on his knees declaring, ‘at he’d niver harmed onybody i’ all his life.  ’Tha’s noa need to goa onto thi knees abaat it onyway,’ sed Ike, ’haiver, hear it is, soa all’s reight, tha con hug it up hooam for me; an’ he gave it him.  Sid wor soa taen, wol he put up his hands to mak sure ’at he worn’t asleep; an’ th’ chaps ’at he’d been tellin his tale to, began to smell a rat, an’ at last it wor all explained, an’ niver mind if ther worn’t some laffin an’ chaffin.  Poor Sid gets plagued abaat it yet, for ommost ivery body’s getten to know, an’ if onnybody, livin abaat that church, wants a sheep’s heead an’ a pluck, they order th’ butcher to send ’em a New-Taan Boggard.”

“Well tha caps me nah!”

“Gooid neet.—­Awr Mally ’ll think aw’m niver comin.”

“Gooid neet.—­But is it true?”

“True!—­It’s just as true as all sich like.”

“A’a, well,—­tha caps me nah!”

Nay Fer Sewer!

Nay fer sewer!” sed Betty Longtongue, as Sally Jibjab had finished tellin her ‘at one o’ th’ neighbor’s husband’s had getten turned off.  “Well, awm capt he didn’t get seck’d long sin, for they tell me he wor niver liked amang th’ work fowk, an’ awm sure aw’ve seen him go in to his wark monny a time a full clock haar after awr lot’s had to be thear.  But aw thawt he’d find his level at last, an’ awm net oft mistakken, far aw can see a hoil in a stee as weel as th’ maaast.”