w blushed like a pyannet, and paid it, but aw
knew varry weel 'at aw wor a shillin' i' debt then if ivverybody had
ther own. Hasumivver shoo were satisfied; in fact, shoos allus
satisfied, shoo'd nivver ha' been as big as shoo is if shoo let little
things bother her (an shoo has lots o' bonny little things running
abaat). Well, aw went to bed, an' slept till mornin'. Aw can't say
whether all were quiet or not, for nowt could ha' disturbed me, aw
believe aw should ha' slept saandly if ther'd been Sowerby Brig Local
Booard o' one side, an' th' Stainland School Booard o' t'other, an' th'
Haley Hill bell ringers playin' "Hail, smilin' morn." at th' bed feet.
But all this has nowt to do wi what aw intended tell in' yo abaat.

Next mornin aw gate up, an' after braikfast (sich a braikfast! aw nivver
felt soa stuck up i' all mi life as aw felt after gettin' that
braikfast, aw couldn't even bend to see if mi shoes were blackened) aw
set aght agean, an' went as far as Silsden. Nah, for th' information o'
fowk at wor nivver thear, aw may as weel tell yo a thing or two. Silsden
wor nivver planned, it grew, just like th' brackens i' th' woods,
throwin' aght a branch one way or another, as it thowt fit. Thers one or
two fact'rys, a nail shop or two, two or three brigs, some nice chapels,
an' th' rummest owd pile for a church' at yo'll meet in a day's march; a
lot o' nice, clean cottages, tenanted wi strong men an' hearty lukkin
women, wi hearts i' ther breasts as big as bullocks, an' as monny
childer raand th' doors as if they wor all infant schooils; an' a varry
fair sprinklin' o' public haases.

Nah monny a one would wonder ha soa monny fowks could live an' thrive i'
sich a place--aw wonder misen; an' some wod wonder whear all th' fowk
coom throo to fill ther chapels an' church: but aw doant wonder at that,
for wheriver there's a lot o' wimmen an' lasses 'at can spooart nice
Sunday clooas there's sure to be a lot 'at'll goa to places o' worship
to show' em; an' whear th' lasses, are, there will th' lads be also. (Aw
believe that's a quotation, but awm net sure.) An' th' publics--they
tell me they niver wod ha' been able to get on at all if it hadn't been
for th' Sunday closin', but as sooin as fowk see th' doors shut they
begin to feel dry, an' as th' constable is a chap' at wodn't lower his
dignity bi goin' to see if fowks back doors wor oppen, things wark
pratty weel. It wor at th' Red Lion aw thawt aw'd stop this time (that's
w