Elizabeth Gaskell

“ Still at the old parable of Dives and Lazarus! Does it haunt the minds of the rich as it does those of the poor?
"Do tell us all about London, dear father," asked Mary, who was sitting at her old post by her father's knee.
"How can I tell yo a' about it, when I never see'd one-tenth of it. It's as big as six Manchesters, they telled me. One-sixth may be made up o' grand palaces, and three-sixths o' middling kind, and th' rest o' holes o' iniquity and filth, such as Manchester knows nought on, I'm glad to say." ”

“ God help the poor, who, on this wintry morn, Come forth from alleys dim and courts obscure. God help yon poor pale girl, who droops forlorn, And meekly her affliction doth endure; God help her, outcast lamb ”

“ Let's get some woman to feed it; it comes natural to women to do for babbies.' So we asked th' chambermaid at the inn, and she took quite kindly to it; and we got a good supper, and grew rare and sleepy, what wi' th' warmth and wi' our long ride i' the open air. Th' chambermaid said she would like t' have it t' sleep wi' her, only missis would scold so; but it looked so quiet and smiling like, as it lay in her arms, that we thought 't would be no trouble to have it wi' us. I says: 'See, Jennings, how women folk do quieten babbies ”

“ God help the poor! God help the poor, who in lone valleys dwell, Or by far hills, where whin and heather grow; Theirs is a story sad indeed to tell; Yet little cares the world, and less 't would know About the toil and want men undergo. ”

“ Some o' the gentlemen as couldn't get inside hung on behind, wi' nosegays to smell at, and sticks to keep off folk as might splash their silk stockings. I wonder why they didn't hire a cab rather than hang on like a whip-behind boy; but I suppose they wished to keep wi' their wives, Darby and Joan like. Coachmen were little squat men, wi' wigs like the oud-fashioned parsons'. Well, we could na get on for these carriages, though we waited and waited. Th' horses were too fat to move quick; they never known want o' food, one might tell by their sleek coats ”

“ With teeth and hands the precious boon is torn Unmindful of the storm that round his head Impetuous sweeps. God help thee, child forlorn! God help the poor! God help the poor! Another have I found-- A bowed and venerable man is he ”

“ for when we are heavy-laden in our hearts it falls in better with our humour to reveal our case in our own way, and our own time. ”

“ At last says he--
"'Young woman! have you gotten a spare nightcap?'
"'Missis always keeps nightcaps for gentlemen as does not like to unpack,' says she, rather quick.
"'Ay, but young woman, it's one of your nightcaps I want. Th' babby seems to have taken a mind to yo; and maybe in th' dark it might take me for yo if I'd getten your nightcap on.'
"The chambermaid smirked and went for a cap, but I laughed outright at th' oud bearded chap thinking he'd make hissel like a woman just by putting on a woman's cap. Howe'er he'd not be laughed out on't, so I held th' babby till he were in bed. ”

“ The babby had been fed afore we set out, and th' coach moving kept it asleep, bless its little heart! But when th' coach stopped for dinner it were awake, and crying for its pobbies. [5] So we asked for some bread and milk, and Jennings took it first for to feed it, but it made its mouth like a square, and let it run out at each o' the four corners. 'Shake it, Jennings,' says I; 'that's the way they make water run through a funnel, when it's o'er full; and a child's mouth is broad end o' th' funnel, and th' gullet the narrow one.' So he shook it, but it only cried th' more. ”

“ There lay my darling, my only one. She were dead, and there were no one to love me, no, not one. I disremember [4] rightly what I did; but I know I were very quiet, while my heart were crushed within me.
"Jennings could na' stand being in the room at all, so the landlady took him down, and I were glad to be alone. It grew dark while I sat there; and at last th' landlady came up again, and said, 'Come here.' So I got up, and walked into the light, but I had to hold by th' stair-rails, I were so weak and dizzy. ”

“ And some on 'em (we thought they must be th' tailors' sign) had getten stone men and women as wanted clothes stuck on 'em. I were like a child, I forgot a' my errand in looking about me. By this it were dinner-time, or better, as we could tell by the sun, right above our heads, and we were dusty and tired, going a step now and a step then. Well, at last we getten into a street grander nor all, leading to th' Queen's palace, and there it were I thought I saw th' Queen. Yo've seen th' hearses wi' white plumes, Job?"
Job assented.
"Well, them undertaker folk are driving a pretty trade in London. ”

“ Anon he turns and casts a wistful eye, And with scant napkin wipes the blinding spray, And looks around, as if he fain would spy Friends he had feasted in his better day: Ah! some are dead: and some have long forborne To know the poor ”

“ But work were rather slack in Manchester, and Frank's uncle sent him word o' London work and London wages, so he were to go there, and it were there Margaret was to follow him. Well, my heart aches yet at thought of those days. She so happy, and he so happy; only the poor father as fretted sadly behind their backs. They were married and stayed some days wi' me afore setting off; and I've often thought sin', Margaret's heart failed her many a time those few days, and she would fain ha' spoken ”

“ But one day towards Whitsuntide, comed Jennings wi' a grave face, and says he, 'I hear our Frank and your Margaret's both getten the fever.' You might ha' knocked me down wi' a straw, for it seemed as if God told me what th' upshot would be. Old Jennings had gotten a letter, you see, fra' the landlady they lodged wi'; a well-penned letter, asking if they'd no friends to come and nurse them. She'd caught it first, and Frank, who was as tender o'er her as her own mother could ha' been, had nursed her till he'd caught it himsel; and she expecting her down- lying [3] everyday. ”

“ Jennings fell asleep too; but I began for to reckon up our money. It were little enough we had left, our dinner the day afore had ta'en so much. I didn't know what our reckoning would be for that night lodging, and supper, and breakfast. Doing a sum always sent me asleep ever sin' I were a lad; so I fell sound in a short time, and were only wakened by chambermaid tapping at th' door, to say she'd dress the babby before her missis were up if we liked. ”

“ Well, just as we'd gotten to th' dinner-table, and helped oursels, and eaten two mouthful, came in th' guard, and a fine chap wi' a sample of calico flourishing in his hand. 'Coach is ready!' says one; 'Half-a-crown your dinner!' says the other. Well, we thought it a deal for both our dinners, when we'd hardly tasted 'em; but, bless your life, it were half-a-crown apiece, and a shilling for th' bread and milk as were possetted all over babby's clothes. We spoke up againrule, so what could two poor oud chaps like us do again [6] it? ”

“ For curtesie, he sayd, he n'old non."↑ Down-lying; lying in.↑ Disremember; forget.↑ "Pobbies," or "pobs," child's porridge.↑ "Again," for against. "He that is not with me, he is ageyn me."
--Wickliffe's Version.↑ Baggin-time; time of the evening meal.↑ Dree; long and tedious. Anglo-Saxon, "dreogan," to suffer, to endure.↑ "I have not been, nor IS, nor never schal."--Wickliffe's Apology, p. I.↑ Gloppened; amazed, frightened.↑ The fine-spirited author of 'Passages in the Life of a Radical'-- a man who illustrates his order, and shows what nobility may be in a cottage. ”