"Well, awm soa glad it worn't awr Alick 'at mashed that winder."

"Soa am aw, awd rayther it had been one o' mi own bi th' hauf. What time does ta think tha'll ha done weshin?"

"Abaat four o'clock if awm lucky."

"Well, wi ta step across an' have a cup o' teah wi us?"

"Eea, aw dooant mind if aw do."

"Owd Tommy."

(A Yorkshire Sketch.)

Of all the seasons of the year,--that portion when winter treads upon the skirts of the retiring autumn, always seems to me to be most deeply fraught with sorrowful a.s.sociations. A few short weeks before, one has beheld the year in stately pride, loaded with blessings, and adorned in nature's most luxurious garb, waters in silvery streams have lightly leaped and bounded in the shadow of the waving ferns,--and little flowers have nodded on the brink and peered into the crystal depths, as though in love with their reflected loveliness;--the little hills have decked their verdant b.r.e.a.s.t.s with floral gems, and the frowning crags have seemed to smile, and from their time-worn crevices have thrust some wandering weed, whose emerald tints have lent a soothing softness to the hard outline of their rugged fronts. The feathered songsters on untiring wing, have flitted in the sunny sky, pouring forth melodious sounds in thankfulness and joy, as though their little hearts were filled too full of happiness and overflowed in drops of harmony.

Light fleecy cloud's like floating heaps of down have sailed along the azure sky, casting their changing shadows on the earth, whilst sighing winds have whispered soothing songs amongst the rustling leaves, and ripened fruits have hung in tempting show their sun-burnt fronts, courting the thirsty lip, to tell us in their silent eloquence that the year has gained its prime.

Even when the ice-king reigns, and howlling storms drive with remorseless fury o'er the plains, or wreck their vengeance on the st.u.r.dy woods,--roaring amongst the pliant branches, and entwining around the knarled trunks, uprooting some as though in sport to show its giant strength. And the cascade which formerly leaped forth from sylvan nooks where the wild flowers half hid its source, and bathed themselves in the ascending mist,--now roaring down in sullied swollen force, bearing along the wrecks of summer beauties,--tumbling and hissing through its frost bordered bed,--growling in foaming rage around the rocks which here and there protrude their sullen face to check its mad career;--even this has much of majesty and beauty, and claims our admiration. But when some glories of the autumn yet remain, and e'er stern winter has usurped the sway,--one wide-wide field of death and desolation is all that's left for man to ponder over;--fading flowers, trembling and shrinking in the raw cold blast;--half naked trees, that day by day present a more weird aspect--fields still green, but stripped of every gem;--whilst still some russet warbler may be heard chirping in sorrow and distress, and heavy looking clouds anxious to screen the cheering ray, which now and then bursts forth with sickly smile, that seems like ill-timed mirth amongst the dead.

On such a time as this, and in the early Sabbath morning, might be seen a stalwart farmer strolling o'er the hills which command a view of the little but interesting village of Luddenden.

I do not think that the dreary look of decaying beauties had much effect upon him,--the pale blue smoke that issued from his mouth, in measured time, seemed to afford him every consolation. He evidently saw some one approaching in whom he was interested. Having satisfied himself that he was not mistaken, he began talking aloud:--

"Oi! that's him sure enough; nah whativer can owd Tommy want laumering over thease hills at this time o'th' morning? He's a queer chap, takkin him all i' all; an' still if ought should happen him aw doant know where they'd find his marrow; he's been th' same owd Tommy iver sin aw wor a lad, an' aw'm noa chicken nah--he said--stroking a few grey hairs, which, like a tuft of frosted gra.s.s, adorned his ruddy cheeks. Aw sud think he's saved a bit o' bra.s.s bi this time, for he wor allus a nipper; but he wor allus honest, an' it isn't ivery man yo meet i'th world 'at's honest; but aw doant think Tommy ud wrang ony body aght o'th' vally o'

that;"--saying which, he snapped his finger and thumb together to denote its worthlessness.

A few minutes more and Tommy might be plainly seen slowly ascending the somewhat rugged road toward the spot where stood the farmer leaning against the wall awaiting him. I could not better occupy the time that intervenes than endeavour to picture the approaching traveller. His age I would not dare to guess, he might be 60, or he might be 90. He was a short thick-set man, and rather bent, but evidently more from habit than from weight of years. He wore a long blue coat which plainly spoke of years gone by, and bore in many places unmistakable evidence that Tommy was no friend to tailors; beneath this an old crimson plush waistcoat, that had long since done its duty, some drab knee-breeches, and a pair of dark grey stockings which hid their lower extremities in a pair of shoes about large enough to make two leather cradles; on his head a hat that scorned to shine, and in his hand he carried an oaken staff; his small grey eyes glistened with a spark of latent wit, whilst on his face was stamped in unequivocal characters some quaint originality.

"Gooid morning, Tommy," said the farmer.

"Gooid morning d.i.c.k," replied Tommy, "it's a nice day ower th' head but fearful heavy under th' fooit."

"You're reight," said d.i.c.k, "but where are yo trapesing to this morning?"

"Waw, aw'm gooin as far as d.i.c.k's o' Tom's at th' Durham, to get my tooa nails cut," said Tommy.

"Well, yo'll happen bait a bit and ha a wiff o' bacca wi' me, for its a long time sin aw saw yo afoor," said d.i.c.k.

"Waw, aw dooant mind if aw have a rick or two, but aw munnot stop long, for it luks rayther owercussen up i'th' element; but ha's that lad o'

thine getting on sin he wed quiet Hannah la.s.s? Aw've wondered sometimes if he wod'nt rue his bargain,--is shoo as fat as sho wor?"

"Eea, shoo keeps i' varry gooid order, shoo puts her mait into a better skin nor th' mooast; they didn't hit it soa well at th' furst, for shoo wor varry waspish, an' tha knows awr Joa's as queer as d.i.c.k's hatband, when he's put aght a bit. One morning, abaght a wick after they wor wed, Joa woran't varry weel, an' had to ligg i' bed a bit,--shoo gate up to muck th' beeas,--(for shoo can do a job like that, tha knows, when shoo's a mind.)"

"Eea! eea!" said Tommy, "noabody better,--shoo's a pair o' gooid end,--shoo's nooan afeared o' dipping her finger i' water, nut shoo."

"Well, aw tell thi, shoo gate up, an' in a while shoo call'd aght 'at his porridge wor ready when he liked to come daan, an' then shoo went aght. Soa in a bit, he gate up, an' th' pan wor stood o' th' rib flopping away rarely. Well, he gate a plate, an' thowt he'd tern' em aght to cooil, when asteead o' porrige, aght come th' dish claat slap on to his fooit;--talk abaght single step doncing!--tha should just ha seen him; he ommost lauped clean ower th' breead flaik;--an' thear shoo stood grinning at him throo th' winder, an' he wor soa mad--he wuthered th'

pan fair at her head;--he miss'd his aim an' knock'd th' canary cage to smithereens, th' cat gate th' burd, an' th' pan fell into th' churn.

Nah, what wod ta think ov a thing like that?"

"Waw, its just loike one ov her tricks;-tha knows shoo wor allus a trimmer o' one, d.i.c.k."

"Shoo wor, Tommy, an shoo allus will be to her deeing day. It put awr Joa into a awful pa.s.shian, but shoo didn't care a pin, shoo said shoo'd lived too long near a wood' to be fear'd ov a hullet,--but they're as reight as d.i.c.k and Liddy nah. Aw'll tell thi ha that happens. Tha knows, awr Joa allus thowt a deeal ov his mother, an he wanted th' wife to do i'th' same way; an one morning shoo' wor neighding th' dooaf, when Joa says, 'Mally', that isn't th' way to neighd, my mother allus 'used to do soa;'--an' he wor baan to show' haa; Shoo made noa mooar to do, but lauped into th' middle o'th' bowl wi' her clogs on, an' started o'

traiding it wi' her feet, an' shoo says, 'does thi mother do soa?' After that, he let her have it mooastly to her own way, an' they seem to get on varry weel amang it nah--an' if he keeps steady they're putting it together nicely. An' what have yo fresh, Tommy?"

"Nay, nowt 'at means ought aw think, d.i.c.k--but aw'd like to been pooisened t'other wick, but as luck let, aw wor noa war."

"Pooisened! Tommy, nay, surelee nut."

"Yos, but aw had--tha sees aw live at th' Ee'Gurnard, an' aw'd just been into th' mistal wi' young maister William, an' he'd been holding th'

canel for me whol aw siled th' milk, an' he wor full ov his marlocks an'

bluzzed th' canel up mi nooas an' put it aght,--he's a shocker."

"Waw, Tommy, yo wodn't be pooisened wi' a canel, aw'll niver believe?"

"Noa, but as aw wor telling thi, aw'd been i'th' mistal, an' aw went into th' kitchen for a bit o' summat to ait. Aw saw some fat o'th' ooven top in a pot, soa aw gate some breead an' ait it up. Aw thowt it wor fearful gooid an' savored summat aw'd niver had afoor; but just when aw'd finished it, one o'th' young mistresses come daan an' axed me what aw'd done wi' what wor i'th' pot? Soa aw tell'd her aw'd etten it. Etten it!!' shoo skriked. 'Etten it!! Why,' shoo says, 'yo'll be pooisened, Tommy, its pumatum!' Well, aw says, 'pumatum or net, aw've etten it,'--an' away shoo ran an' browt th' maister an' th' mistress, an' all t'other fowk i'th' haase, an' rarely they laffed tha minds; but maister made me a gla.s.s o' rum to settle it, an' aw felt noa mooar on it."

"Well," said d.i.c.k, "tha mayn't feel it nah, but aw shouldn't be capped if thi inside wor to grow full o' ringlets."

"Niver heed that, they'll keep mi belly warm," said Tommy, "but th'

bacca's done, soa aw mun be making mi way shorter. Gooid day, d.i.c.k."

"Gooid day, Tommy. Aw hope tha'll have a fine day for thi walk."

"Eea, eea, aw hope aw shall, but if it rains aw sholl'n't melt."

"Nooah, but its rayther coolish."

"It'll be warmer as it gets ooater, d.i.c.k. Gooid day."

And thus the two friends parted; each smiling at the quaint humor of the other;--the one to climb seven miles of rough and heavy road to get his toe nails cut, and the other to pay an early visit to his son, and rest his limbs, which by six days of willing toil had earned a Sabbath's rest. He walked slowly, musing as he went, and every now and again making audible the current of his thoughts.

"Its monny a long year sin aw saw owd Tommy before, an' it may be monny a long year before aw see his face agean; aw think owd Time must use him wi' a gentler hand nor he uses me. Aw remember th' first time aw saw him, he wor coming past th' churn milk Joan, wi' a lump o' parkin in his hand as big as awr ooven top; an' that wor th' day 'at Jenny an' me wor wed. It seems like a dream to me nah. Poor Jenny!--if there's a better place, tha'rt nooan soa far off thear!" And then he paused to wipe the heavy drops from off his cheeks. "Aw thowt aw'd getten ower this sooart o' thing, nah he sed, but aw believe aw niver shall. Its just five year come Easter sin aw laid her low, an awve niver been able to aford a grave stooan for her yet, but aw can find that bit o' rising graand withaat a mark, an prize it nooan the less. But its noa gooid freating abaght things we cannot help. Aw'll have another reek or two an' goa an'

see awr Joa." So filling his little black clay pipe with the fragrant weed (which for convenience he carried loose in his waistcoat pocket), he puffed his cloud of incense in the air and hastened on to gain his journey's end. A walk of a few minutes brought him to the door of a low whitewashed farm-house, around which the cans were reared, ready to be filled with the morning's milk. He ventured in, (first carefully removing all the mire from his shoes, lest he should soil the nicely sanded floor,) and drawing up the old arm chair which shone like polished ebony,--he looked around the strange apartment. "Its a queer fancy (he said at last) at Mally should be soa fond o' pots,--what ther's mooar here nor what ud start a shop; it saves th' expense of slapdashing onyway." And he was right, for, from floor, to ceiling, and along the old oak beams, appeared one medley of crockery--pots of all sizes--cups and plates of all shapes and patterns were hung or reared against the wall until it was impossible to find another place where one might be displayed; and on the mantle shelf, a long array of china images of fortune-telling gipsies, guarded at each end by what was supposed to represent a dog--they might resemble dogs, but surely such a breed exists not now, for if there was a point about them to recommend, it was what Mally often said, "They ait nowt." In a short time both Joe and Mally made their apperance--health bloom on their cheeks, and with a hearty welcome prepared the morning's meal. A clean white cloth spread on as clean a table, the requisite pots, the fresh churned b.u.t.ter, and the wheaten bread was all that was displayed to tempt them to the meal; but it was all that was required, for appet.i.te gave relish to the plain repast, and many a wealthy man in stately rooms, with every luxury around, might well have envied them their simple fare, sweetened by labor, and so well enjoyed--whilst savory meats, of which they never knew, in vain invited him whose satiated tastes loathed every dish. But the old farmer did not seem at ease, and when the meal was over--after a short conversation, he bade them both good day, and turned his steps towards his lonely home. Perhaps it was the son who called up in the old man's mind some thoughts of former days--or perhaps the train of thought he had indulged in previously might have laid a load of gloom upon him; but, be it as it may, he seemed inclined to spend the day under his own roof tree.

The winter came and spread its spotless snows o'er hills and dales; the wild winds wailed; the woodman's axe echoed amidst the woods; the song birds fled; the dauntless redbreast twittered on the window sills; the cawing rooks wended their weary way in solemn flight. The spring again, like a young bashful maid, came smiling upon old Winter's track; the field's looked gay again; and trees seemed vieing which could first be drest in verdant green. The Summer followed on, the sun shone o'er the fields of ripening gra.s.s; the mowers scythe was dipped in fragrant dews, and Flora bounteously bestowed her favorite flowers. Autumn succeeded, and once more the' eye was gladdened with the bearded grain, waving in golden splendour in the breeze;--again the luscious fruits are tempting one to pluck; and soon again the year,--weary with its labors, prepares to sleep, and desolation reigns.

'Tis Sunday morning, and the sun looks down through murky mists;--the ground is slightly hardened with the nipping frost; here and there some hardy flower endeavours to look gay:--the tolling bell rings out its morning call, and straggling groups wend their way to worship in the village church. But on the hill, which rises high above, was stood a man in deep and earnest thought. One could scarcely have believed that the pale, aged looking man, who dressed in sombre black was standing and looking over the quiet scene, was the stalwart farmer, who just one year before was holding converse with old Tommy;--but he begins to speak.

"Its just twelve months to day," he said, "sin aw wor talking to him o'

this varry spot, an nah he's gooan, an awm left to attend his funeral: ther's nowt to feel sorry for 'at aw know on, but when an owd face is noa mooar, 'at one's been used to see--it tells a tale 'at's easy understood;--it leaves a gap i'th' world 'at's never shut--it bids us to prepare an reckon up awr life to see if all's as we could like it to be,--an' use what time's left to square accounts,--soa's when we're called to 'liver up, we may be ready. Jenny wor ready, an soa wor Tommy.

It isn't ivery man yo meet i'th world 'at's honest."