Then she goes to her friend, who she finds ready there, Who catch’d her in his arms, how does my only dear? She says, Boys drink about, and fear no reckonings large, For she had pawn’d her smock, for to defray the charge. They did carouse it off, till they began to warm, Says Skelton, Make a match, I pray where’s the harm? Then with a loving kiss they straightway did agree, But they no money had, to give the priest a fee. Quoth Skelton seriously, The priest’s fee is large, I’ll marry you myself, and save you all the charge; Then they plight their troth unto each other there, Went two miles from the town, and go to bed we hear. Then when the morning came, by breaking of the day, He had some corn to grind, he could no longer stay; My business is in haste, which I to thee do tell; So took a gentle kiss, and bid his love farewell. Now, when he was come home, and at his business there, His master’s sister came, who was his former dear; Betty, he said, I’m wed, certainly I protest; Then she smile’d in his face, Sure you do but jest. Then within few days space, his wife unto him went, And to the sign o’ th’ Last, there she for him sent; The people of the house, finding what was in hand, Stept out immediately, and let Betty understand. Now this surprising news caus’d her fall in a trance, Like as if she was dead, no limbs she could advance; Then her dear brother came, her from the ground he took; And she spake up and said, O my poor heart is broke. Then with all speed they went, for to undo her lace, Whilst at her nose and mouth her heart’s blood ran apace: Some stood half dead by her, others for help inquire, But in a moment’s time her life it did expire. False hearted lovers all, let this a warning be, For it may well be called Betty Howson’s tragedy. 🖙 The above shews how one John Atkinson, of Morton, near Appleby, courted Betty Howson, of Barnardcastle Bridge-end; and, after having gained her affections, forsook her for another; upon which, she broke her heart and died. _A SONG_ IN PRAISE OF THE DURHAM MILITIA. Tune--_The Lillies of France._ Militia boys for my theme I now chuse, (Your aid I implore to assist me, my muse,) Whilst here I relate of the Durham youths’ fame, Who chearful appear’d when these new tidings came, That to Barnardcastle they must march away, Embody’d to be, without stop or delay. What tho’ some cowards have betook them to flight, And for their king and country scorn for to fight, Yet we Durham boys, who jovial appear, Right honest we’ll be, and we’ll banish all fear, When head of the front, how martial we see Our Colonel so brave, so gallant, and free.