Part 4 (1/2)

RICHES

Miss Tregear be a whisht poor woman, With her big fine house an' her carriage an' pair; Her keeps four maids, not countin' the tweeny, An' another especial to do her hair.

Ruth Penwarne be a braave rich woman; Her lives in a cottage with a warpley door; Her've got four childer, not countin' the baby, An' there baint no tellin' but her might have more.

Miss Tregear have a room for dinin', An' a room for drawin', where her doesn' draw, An' a room where books be shut in cupboards, An' others us don't knaw what they'm for.

Ruth Penwarne have a little linhay, An' there her washes when the rain be nigh, But when 'tis sunny her goes in the garden, An' spreads her clo'es on the fuzzen to dry.

Miss Tregear have a pile o' carpets; Her be frit of a moth or a speck o' dust; Her be feared that the sun will spile her curtains, An' the damp will make her fire-irons rust.

Ruth Penwarne have a fine stone kitchen; An' two rooms aloft as be crammed with beds; Her don't have carpets, so they can't get dirty, An' her soon clanes up where the childer treads.

Miss Tregear have a face that's lonely; Her be often sad, tho' her can't tell why; Her be allays asayin there's nothin' doin', An' thinks how slow all the days go by.

Ruth Penwarne haven't time for thinkin', With makin' an' mendin' an' scrubbin' too, An' sartin sure, she'm a braave rich woman, With childer an' home an' her work to do.

A FIRESIDE SPELL

”I've spanked young Tom an' sent him to bed, an' I reckon it sarves him right; For 'tisn no use asayin' things when the rope's end baint in sight, An' he shouldn' go steerin' out along when the tide is runnin' away, I've telled him afore; I cussn't keep on atellin' him every day.”

”Now when I was a boy--” ”Iss, when you was a boy, you was jest such a scalliant too, All'ays athinkin' o' darin' things as you didn' belong to do.

Climbin' they clifts for saygulls' eggs or clambering ower the crags An' heavin' tuffs at the cormorants, an' shyin' stones at the s.h.a.gs.”

”But when I was a boy--” ”Iss, when you was a boy you worried you'm mother a mort, I mind how'ee tried to swim out to the Point, an' how in the race'ee was caught; I know they had dared'ee at doin' their dags, but dags didn' keep'ee afloat, An' the say 'ud have catched'ee that mornin', sure 'nuff, if they hadn' raced out with the boat.”

”Well, mebbe I was jest sich a limb, as'ee says, an' all'ays full sail for a game, An' I reckon as boys will be boys when they'm boys, but grows into men what are tame, An' when Tom is a feyther alarnin' _his_ son to feel the weight of _his_ hand, Mebbe he'll fergive me for spankin' him now, an' remember, an'

understand.”

CORNISH COMFORT

”Don't 'ee cry, lil' maid, 'tis awnly a broken bussa; The jowds won't mend, best lave the attle abide.

There's tummals o' bussas left, an' it might be wusser.”

But the lil' maid cried.

”Don't 'ee cry, li'l maid. If fellows gets changy and chancy, Tomorrow a braaver will come than the totle who stepped.

Floshed milk baint no use, an' it isn' wuth scrowlin', I fancy.”

Still the lil' maid wept.