"My mestur has been a
good husband to me," said one of the matrons of my flock, "but he can
chime in nasty when he wants to _nag_."
Times of refinement are probably at hand when, under the sacred
influence of School Boards, the rural tongue shall cease to substitute
the word _no-at_ for nought, or nothing. I am not sorry that when that
epoch comes I shall no longer be attached to this machine. I cling to
those expressions, which I have heard from childhood: "He's like a
_no-at." "_He's up to _no-at_." One day, years ago, we waited for the
train at, not Coventry, but Ratcliffe-on-Trent, and while we waited a
weary workman, with his bag of tools on his back, came and sat on the
bench beside. Presently we were joined by a third person in the
garrulous phase of inebriety, and he pestered the tired artisan with his
_bosh_and _gibberish_ (two words which should have been introduced at an
earlier period of my history) until he provoked the righteous
expostulation, "Oh, don't bother me; you're drunk." Then, with an air of
outraged dignity, and with a stern solemnity, which, if he had not
wobbled in his gait and stammered in his utterance, might have suggested
the idea that he had just been appointed Professor of Philosophy for the
Midland Districts, he delivered an oration: "Now just you listen to me.
Pages:
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181