owt to say agean
that, soa as th' public haase wor just oppened, one on 'em went in an'
browt aat a quart pitcher full an' handed it to Swallow to sup th'
furst. An' he did sup--for when he left lause ther wor nowt left but
th' froth on his upper lip to tell at ther'd iver bin ony. "Well"
said Lijah, "aw've heeared swallows called burds of passage, but if
they'd all a passage like thee, they'd sup th' sea dry." "Tha sees,
Lijah," he said, "awm unfortunate, for aw've a thirst on me 'at aw
cannot quench, an' aw darn't sup watter for fear o' havin' th'
dropsy." All th' women agreed' at he wor reight, an' soa after another
quart amang em they went on.

What wi' laffin, an' talkin,' an' smookin, they gate to Blackstone
Edge Moor, an' some of the women thowt it time for a rest, soa Swallow
stop'd all at once an' said, "Do yo all see that stooan post 'at's
standin' thear? That's the stooan at devides Yorksher an' Lankysher,
an' aw think this a 'varry fit time to say a few words woll yo ease
yor legs a bit." Soa up he climb'd onto th' pooast, an' began praichin
away, an' kept at it woll they wor all hauf pined to deeath. At last
Lijah said, "Hang it up, ha long are ta baan to talk? aw wonder thi
conscience doesn't prick thee!" "Prick me!" he said, "Aw defy owt to
prick me when awm laborin' for a gooid cause." Just then he ovver
balanced hissel an' fell slap into th' middle ov a whin bush; but he
wor up in a crack, an' one o' th' lasses said, "if his conscience
hadn't getten prick'd summat else had," an' they went forrard, but
Swallow kept his hand under his coit lap for a mile or two. They gate
to th' lake at last, an' after enjayin' what they call th' seea
breeze, they started off to see some o' th' places ov interest. One
o' th' furst they steer'd to wor th' birthplace o' Tim Bobbin. "An'
who wor Tim Bobbin?" said one o' th' lasses. This puzzled 'em, for
ther worn't one i'th' lot 'at knew; but one o' th' chaps said he
thowt, if he worn't mistakken, he war th' inventor o' th' spinnin'
mule. Th' superintendent said that wor varry likely, for he'd oft
nooatised when readin' history books, 'at chaps gate ther names throo
summat they'd done, an' soa varry likely he gate called Tim Bobbin for
that reason. After that they went back an' had a ride in a booat, an'
as nooan on em knew ha to row, th' watter were varry sooin ankle deep
inside; some on 'em began to grummel at this. "Oh, niver heed," said
Swallow, "yo'll niver