More Tales of the Ridings

com across i' one o' them gert sump-hoils that t' Jack Johnsons maks i' t' grund. He were a fearful big gobslotch, so I reckon t' helmet will do to wesh aar Jimmy in. When he gets a bit owder, he can laik at sodgers wi' it.

"I've coom aat o' t' trenches an' am enjoyin' a rest-cure behind t' lines; so don't thou worry thisen abaat me. I'm champion, an' I've nowt to do but eyt an' sleep an' write a two-three letters when I've a mind to; and what caps all is that I'm paid for doin' on it. There's a lass here that said shoo'd write this here letter for me; but I'd noan have her mellin' on t' job, though shoo were a bonny lass an' all----"

"What mak o' lass is yon?" interrupted Annie. "If he's bin takkin' up wi' one o' them French lasses, he'll get a bit o' my mind when he cooms back. He've allus bin fearful fain o' t' lasses, has Jim, an' I've telled him more nor once I'd have no more on't. An' them Frenchies is nasty good-for-nowts, I'll warrant. They want a few o' their toppins pulled."

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