University of Virginia Library

I. A LANCASHIRE DIALOGUE, OCCASIONED BY A CLERGYMAN PREACHING WITHOUT NOTES.

James.
Wus yo at Church o' Sunday Morning, John?

John.
Ay, Jeeams, I wus, and wou'd no' but ha' gone
For ne'er so mich. What, wur no' yo theer then?

James.
Nou; and I ha' no' mist, I know no' when.

John.
Whoy, yo had e'en faoo Luck on't.

James.
So I hear;
'At maes me ask ye, whether yo wur theer.
They tell'n me that a Pairson coome, and took
His Text bi Hairt, and preacht withaoot a Book.

John.
He did, for sartin, and hauf freeten'd mee,
And moor besoide; but he soon leet us see
He wanted noane.

James.
Whoy, could he do withaoot?

John.
Yoi, better, Mon, bi hauf, for being baoot.
It gan me sich a Notion: for my Pairt,
I think 'at aw true Preaching is by Hairt.
Sich as we han I do not meean to bleeame,
But conno' caw it, fairly, bi that Neeame.
A Book may do at Whooam for Larning seeake,
But in a Pilpit, wheer a Mon shid speeake,
And look at th' Congregation i' their Feeace,
He conno' do't for Pappers in a Keease.
He ta'es fro' them what he mun say, and then
Just looks as if he gan it 'um again.
It is i'th Church; or one cou'd hairdly tell
But he wur conning summat to himsel.
Monny a good Thing, theer, I ha' hard read oo'er,
But never knew what Preeaching wus befoor.

James.
And prei ye, John, haoo done ye know it naoo?

John.
Lukko, this Mon has tou't it me, sumhaoo.

James.
A ready Scholar!

John.
“Scholar?” Whoy, a Dunce
May see, beloike, what's shown him aw at wunce.

James.
It ma'es me think,—yo're allivated soa—
O' one that's gloppen'd, 'at has seen a Shoa.

John.
Wou'd yo had seen and hard as weel as I,—
And if I shid say “felt,” I shid no' lie—
Whot it wus moy good Luck to hyear, and see!
Yo'd a bin gloppen'd too, as weel as me.

James.
Happen, I meeght; but con I understond
Onny thing on't, good John, at second Hond?
Yo han this preeaching Seeacret at a Hit:
Con yo remember haoo it wus, a Bit?

John.
“Con yo remember?” Comes into mi Hyead
Yoar telling once o' whot yoar Lowyer said
Agen ou'd Hunks, the Justice o'the Peeace
'At wou'd ha' ta'en away yoar Faither's Leease:
Haoo yo discroib'd him,—what a Mon o'th Lows!
What a fine Tungue! and haoo he geet the Coaze:
Haoo thooas 'at wur not at the 'Soizes too
Cou'd no' believe t'one hauf o' whot wus true!

James,
“Remember?” Ay! and shall do, while I'm whick,
Haoo bravely he fund aoot a knavish Trick.
He seeav'd my Faither monny a Starling Paoond,
And bu' for him I had no' bin o'th' Graoond.
That wus a Mon worth hyearing; if yoar Mon
Cou'd tauk loike him, I shid be gloppen'd, John.
But, lukko' me, theeas Lowyers are aw tou't
To speeak their Nomminies, as soon as thou't:
Haoo done yo think wou'd Judge and Jury look,
If onny on 'um shid go tak a Book
Aoot of his Pockett—and so read away?
They'd'n soon think, he had no' mich to say.
Aoor honest Lowyer had my Faither's Deed;
But, Mon, he gan it th' Clark o'th' Coort to read,
And then—he spooak! and if yo had bu' seen,
Whoy, th' Judge himsel cou'd ne'er keep off his Een;
The Jury gaupt agen,—and weel they meeght;
For e'ry Word 'at he had said wus reeght.

John.
Weel, Jeeams; and if a Mon shid be as wairm
Abaoot his Hev'n, as yo abaoot yoar Fairm,
Dunno' yo think, he'd be as pleeast to hear
A Pairson mak his Reeght to houd it clear,
And show the De'el to be as fause a Foe
As that ou'd Rogue the Justice wus to yo?

James.
Naoo, John, I see what you been droiving at,
And I'm o' yoar Oppinion as to that.
I shid no' grutch at takking a lung Wauk
To hyear a Clargyman, that cou'd bu' tauk
As that Mon did, cou'd sarch a Thing to th' Booan,
And in good yarnest mak the Coaze his ooan.
I seeldom miss a Sunday hyearing thooas
'At preeachen weel enugh, as preeaching gooas;
But I ha' thou't, sometimes, haooever good,
A Sarmon meeght be better, if it wou'd;
'At, if it cou'd no' make Folks e'en to weep,
It sartinly mit keep 'um aw fro' Sleep.
Yet I ha' seen 'um nodding, Toimes enoo,
Not ooanly Childer, but Church-Wairdens too.
Cou'd yoar foine Preeacher — Morning wus too soon —
Ha' kept Folks wakken, John, i'th' Afternoon?

John.
I wish he wou'd ha' tried; — and, I dare say,
That Morning meeght have onswer'd for aw Day.
He must ha' ta'en a pratty Dose, I think,
'At could ha' gen that Afternoon a Wink.
Sich looking, and sich list'ning! One mit read
In e'ry Feeace: “Ay, heer's a Mon indeed!”
Some meeght ha' slept, if he had com'n agen,
Befoor he spooak;—I'm shure they could no' then.

James.
They wurn, its loike, whaint fond o' summut new.

John.
Nea, nea; that winno' hou'd a Sarmon throo.
Aw they that listen'd when he first begun,
Kept list'ning moor and moor till he had done.
Had he gone eend away, I gi' mi Word,
He had me fast bi th' Ears; I'd not ha' stirr'd.
Naoo, yo mun think 'at he taukt weel, at leeast,
And passing weel, 'at Eich-body wur pleeast.
They wou'd no', loikly, give him aw their Vooats
Ooanly becose o' Preeaching withaoot Nooats.

James.
Whoy, but according to my Thinking, John,
It gi's a hugeous Vontidge to a Mon
To preeach withaoot Book, if he con bu' do't,
And he mun needs be better hard to boot.
Aoor Lowyer had noane; and I hauf con feel,
It wus the Reeason whoy he spooak so weel.
Yet, as yo sen, “that ooanly winno' do;”
For th' Mon agen him praited like a Foo.

John.
Jeeams, its e'en haird upon a Lowyer's Tungue,
They hoirn it aoot to oather reeght or wrung.
A diff'rent Keease to that o' Pairsons woide:
They are,—or shid be,—aw o' the same Soide.
It makes, mayhap, aoor Lowyers reeadier far
To pleead withaoot Book, til aoor Pairsons are.

James.
It's loike it duz; for Folks will larn to speeak
Sannner bi hauf for Contradickshon seeak;
And specially, if when their Tale is tou'd
I' Truth or Loies, they mun be paid i' Goud.
Pairsons are paid; and, if they win, may pay
Thir Curates, John, to preeach for 'um, or pray;
And, then, they do not, when they ma'en a Raoot,
Tungue it so mich as fling thir Book abaoot.
Yet Word o' Maooth, if it be reeght, 's no Sin:
Whoy conno' Pairsons preeach by't, if they win?

John.
I know no'; Custom's druven to Extreeams:
This may be one 'at they han getten, Jeeams.
Some feeamous Fellies meeght, at first, begin,
And aw the rest han follow'd 'um e're sin.
When a Bell-Weather leeaps but o'er a Stray,
At that same Pleck aw th' rest mun jump away.

James.
Marry, I wish 'at Pairsons, one i' ten,
Wou'd bu' jump back into th' oud Way agen.
Some han great Books enoo to fill a Cairt;
Straunge 'at they conno' lay a Thing to Hairt,
Sich as they loiken best, and ha' the Paoor
To dray it fro' within, for one hauf Haoor!
Haoo coome this Mon to do't?

John.
I conno' tell.
Do it he did so yeeasy to himsel,
And yet wi' so mich Yarnestness, and Fooarce,
Of Tungue and Hond and Look, and good Discooarse,
Aw smooth and clear and, 'ery turn it took,
Still woinding to't like Weater in a Brook;
'At onny Mon o' Larning, takking Aiam,
Meeght ha' larnt fro' him to ha' done the saiame.

James.
“Larning!” when Preeachers first coome in, they sen,
They wurn no' monny on 'um larnèd Men,
Nor Gentry nooather,—

John.
Whoy, and they sen true;
But in aoor Days I daoot it woono' do,
To ha' thooas preeach 'at comn so meeghty short
O' th' first Beginners, so weel fitted for't.
Wou'd but aoor Gentlemen o' Larning troy
To preeach fro' th' Hairt, and lay their Pappers bye:
We shid no' think warse on 'um for thir Kin,
Nor loike 'um less, haooever larn'd they bin;
Aoor Folks i' Church Toime wou'd be moor devaoot,
And moin'd the Bus'ness 'at they wurn abaoot:
And thooas good Sarmons 'at mooast o'n 'em ma'en,
By aw good Folks wou'd be mich better ta'en.
Witness this Gentlemon, o' Sunday Morn,
The best 'at I e'er hard sin I wur born!
But come, I'll say no moor; yo'st hear him first:
I wish with au my Hairt he wur the worst.

James.
Ay, yo may wish;—but will he preeach agen?
Haoo ar yo shure o' that?

John.
Nay, soa they sen;
Yo're loike to tak yoar Chaunce, as weel as I.

James.
If onny comes, I'll tak it.—John, Good bye!