_Jimmy._--Thomas, you a liv'd a long time wi' Father, an' I
dwont like ta chide ye, bit nif you da tAck o' Miss Cox in thic
fashion, I knaw she on't like it, naw moor sholl I. Miss Cox,
Thomas, Miss Cox ool, a-mAc-be, goo a hAc-makin wi' I, as she a done
avaur now; bit Sally, Miss Cox, Thomas, I wish you'd zAc naw moor
about er.--There now, Thomas, dwon't ye zee--why shee's by tha
gate-shord! I haup she han't a hird what we a bin a tAckin about.--
Be tha thissles skeer'd in tha twenty yacres, Thomas?--aw, thAc be.
Well, I sholl be glad when tha ten yacres be a mawed--an when we
da make an end o' hAc-corrin, I'll dance wi' Sally Cox.
_Thomas Came_.--There, Maester Jimmy! 'tword'n I that tAck'd
o' Sally Cox!
MARY RAMSEY,
_A MONOLOGUE,
To er Scholards_.
Commether [Footnote: Come hither.] _Billy Chubb_, an breng
tha hornen book. Gee me tha vester in tha windor, you _Pal
Came_!--what! be a sleepid--I'll wAcke ye. Now, _Billy_
there's a good bway! Ston still there, an mine what I da zAc to
ye, an whaur I da pwint.
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