"’Coom now,’ my maister zaith, trying to look smarl behaind the fuzz, ’thee must throw me, my lad, avore thee can throw Jan Uxtable. He be a better man mainly nor ai be this dai. But ai baint in no oomer for playin’ much jist now, and rackon ai should hoort any man ai kitched on.’ ’Her that be a good un, Zam, baint it now?’ zaith Gundry to little chap, the very zame as ai be a tullin it now, ’doth the fule s’pose ai be ratten? Ai’ve half a maind to kick un over this hadge; jist thee hold the nag!’ ’Sober now,’ zaith varmer, and ai zeed a was gettin’ rad in the chakes, ’God knows ai don’t feel no carl to hoort ’e. Ai’ll gie thee wan chance more, Tom Gundry, as thee’st a coom arl this wai fram Carnwall. Can ’e trod a path in thiccy country, zame as this here be?’ And wi’ that, a walked into the beg fuzz, twaice so haigh as this here room, and the stocks begger round nor my body, and harder nor wrought hiern. A jist stratched his two hons, raight and left, and twitched un up, wan by wan, vor ten gude lanyard, as asily as ai wud pull spring inyons. ’Now, wull e let me lone?’ zaith he, zo zoon as a coom barck, wi his brath a little quicker by rason of the exarcise, ’wull ’e let me lone?’ ’Ee’s fai, wull I,’ zaith the man avoot. ’Hor,’ zaith Tom Gundry, who had been a[#] shopping zumwhere, ’thee cans’t do a gude dai’s work, my man, tak that vor thee’s wages.’ And wi’ that a lets fly at Maister’s vace wi’ a light hash stick a carr’d, maning to raide off avore Maister cud coom to’s brath again. In a crack Jan Uxtable zet both his hons under the stommick of the nag, one avore the starrup and one behaind, zame as I maight to this here little tabble, and haved un, harse and man, clane over hadge into Muster Yeo’s turmot falde. Then with wan heft, a kitched up tother chap, and zent un sprarling after un, zame as if ’twor this here stule after the tabble." [#] _i.e._ dealing commercially where the staples are liquid. I thought poor Tim, in the excitement of his story, would have thrown table and stool over the settle to illustrate it; and if he had, Mrs. Huxtable would have forgiven him. "’Thar,’ zaith our Maister, as plaisant as cud be, and ai thought us shud have died of laffing, ’thar now, if zo be the owner of thiccy falde zummons e for traspash, you zay Jan Uxtable zent e on a little arrand, to vaind a Carnisher as can do the laike to he.’ And wi’ that, a waiped his hons with a slip of vern, and tuk a little drap of zider, and full to’s wark again." "Wull, but Tim," asked the farmer’s wife, to lose no part of the effect, "what zort of a hadge wor it now? Twor a little hadge maybe, no haigher nor the zettle barck." "Wor it though?" said Tim, "thee knows better nor that, Missus. It be the beggest hadge on arl the varm, wi’ a double row of saplin hash atap. Her maks the boundary betwixt the two parishes, and ain’t been trimmed these vaive year, ai can swear."