The stories that are told of some of the wealthier inhabitants of Rossendale are curious and amusing. "Same as yo, Maister George," has become a classic saying. It originated thus: The occasion was the election of a poor-law guardian--an exciting event when political parties, Whig and Tory, brought out their candidates, and put forth their strength in the contest. Political feeling ran high then as now, and guardians were elected on the colour of their politics quite independently of their special fitness for the position. George Hargreaves, Esquire, J.P., was the ruling Tory spirit in the very heart of the Rossendale Valley in bygone years--a man of staunch integrity and blameless life, and Tory to the backbone. The voters, many of whom were dependent on him in various ways because he was a man of property and an employer of labour, were crowding into the school-room to record their votes, George himself marshalling his partizans, and scanning the faces of doubtful supporters. "Who are you voting for, Sam?" spoke out Mr Hargreaves to a sturdy Rossendalean elbowing his way among the crowd. "Same as yo', Maister George," answered Sam with a nod, "Same as yo'," and "maister George" nodded back with a gratified smile. So it is "same as yo', maister George," when the opinion of any present day political or other weak-backed inhabitant is in question. * * * * * A number of stories are related of John Brooks of Sunnyside, and Sam Brooks, the well-known Manchester banker; John and Sam were brothers. One of the stories is too good to be lost. When the Act of Incorporation was obtained for, and government by a municipality was first introduced into Manchester, it is said that John Brooks was asked to stand as a Town-Councillor or Alderman. Being doubtful as to the expediency of taking such a step, he promised to consult his brother Sam and be guided by his advice. Accordingly, he spoke to Sam on the subject, informing him that he (John) had been asked to take office as a new-fangled Town-Councillor. What did he think of it? Would it be wise or prudent for him to comply with the request? "Will they pay you for it?" enquired Sammy with a quick interrogative glance at his brother. "O, no!" John replied, "there 'll be no pay for th' job--nothing for it but the honour of the position." "Humph! honour be hanged!" responded Sam, "let me gi'e thee a bit of advice, John; whenever thae does ought for nought, do it for thae-sell!" On one occasion Mr Sam Brooks had advertised for a dog. Sitting in his breakfast-room, which looked out towards the entrance gate, he saw a rough tyke of a youth coming along the drive partly dragging, partly holding back with a cord, a mongrel-looking brute that had been sent in answer to the advertisement. Mr Brooks, rising, went to the door and accosted the youth: "What have you got there, my lad?" "A dog that mi feyther has sent."