Seets i' Paris: Sammywell Grimes's trip with his old chum Billy Baccus, his opinion o' th' French, and th' French opinion o' th' exhibition he made ov hissenHartley, John
General
Seets i' Paris: Sammywell Grimes's trip with his old chum Billy Baccus, his opinion o' th' French, and th' French opinion o' th' exhibition he made ov hissen
Hartley, John
British -- France -- Paris -- Fiction; Dialect literature, English -- England -- Yorkshire; Paris (France) -- Fiction
"Aw wor just thinkin' abaat that three quarters o' malt," he sed, "an' he
lained his heead ovver th' side soa as he could study undisturbed. Just
abaat that time it struck me'at aw'd heeard tell what a beautiful seet
it wor to watch th' waves all glittering wi phosphorus, soa aw lained
ovver to luk for it. Aw didn't see onny but that wom't my fault for aw
nivver lifted mi heead up except once or twice to see if Billy wor thear
an' aw saw he wor still studyin' abaat th' malt."
After abaat two haars o' scientific investigation o' that sooart, land,
whether foreign or native, wor varry acceptable. We had to pass ovver a
little bridge when we landed an' one chap took tickets an' another stood
to ax what yo wor. "Are you English?" he axed Billy.
"What's ta think, muleface!" he sed, an' as he let him pass aw suppooas
he wor satisfied'at he wor. We'd hauf an haar to wait for th' train to
Payris, an' Billy made straight for th' refreshment raam. "Ha does ta
feel?" aw sed.
"Aw all nowt, an' nivver should ha' done but for them mutton chops, an'
aw tell'd thi mi stummack wodn't stand sich muck. Aw wish aw wor back
hooam."
"Awm pratty weel sick on it misen," aw says, "an' if tha's a mind we'll
goa straight back hooam."
"Nay, by-gow! aw've had enuff o' that booat-ridin' for to neet!"
After a dry biscuit an' a drop o' lemonade we gate into a comfortable
carriage, worn aght an' weary, we booath fell asleep. When we wakkened
th' sun wor shinin' an' we could see men an' wimmen at wark getherin'
in th' harvest, ivverything lukt cheerful an' bonny. Th' whistle
saanded an' th' train slackened speed an' we crept slowly into Payris at
hauf-past six o' one o' th' grandest mornins aw ivver remember. When
we gate aght o'th' station we lukt raan', wonderin' which way to goa to
seek lodgins.
"Nah, Billy," aw says, "this is Payris at last."
He lukt at th' graand, then at th' buildins all raand, then up at th'
sky, an' finished off wi' starin' at me.
"Well?" aw says.
"Why, it's nowt!"
CHAPTER III. JENDI.
[Illustration: 9035]
S we saw at ivverybody else'at had come bi th' same train wor runnin fit
to braik ther necks for fear they should'nt be able to find lodgins, an'
as awd heeard at th' city wor full we made a bit ov a rush. Billy walked
as briskly as if he'd been four stooan leeter, an' for owt aw know he
wor. "Aw pitie'd some o' th' fowk at wor on that booat," aw sed.
"Well, aw dooant pity them mich, for they need'nt ha been on unless they
liked, but aw did pity th' fish, for they'll be a sickly lot this mornin
aw should fancy," an' he fairly chuckled at th' nooation.
"Nah then, what sooart ov a spot mun we steer for? Had we better try
some quiet respectable shop or mun we goa in for a place right up to
Dick an' run th' risk o' what it costs?"
"Its noa use axin me; do whativver tha's a mind it'll be reight to me."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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