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There's things folks 'ud pay to be rid on, besides varmin.—Ben Winthrop.
When I've got a pot of good ale, I like to swaller it, and do my inside good, i’stead o'smelling and staring. at it to see if I can't find faut wi' the brewing.-Ben Winthrop.
-oBreed is stronger than pasture.—Mr. Lammeter.
-0Thank ye, Solomon, thank ye. That's 'Over the hills and far away,' that is. My father used to say to me, whenever we heard that tune, 'Ah, lad, I come from over the hills and far away. There's a many tunes I don't make head or tail of ; but that speaks to me like the blackbird's whistle. I suppose it's the name: there's a deal in the name of a tune.—Mr. Lammeter.
Things look dim to old folks : they'd need have some young eyes about 'em, to let 'em know the world's the same as it used to be.—Mr. Lammeter.
--0-Ah, she has a quick wit, my friend Priscilla has. She saves a little pepper to sprinkle over her talk-that's the reason why she never puts too much into her pies. There's my wife, now, she never has an answer at her tongue's end ; but if I offend her, she's sure to scarify my throat with black pepper the next day, or else give me the colic with watery greens. That's an awful tit-for-tat.-Doctor Kimble.
When a man turns a blessing from his door, it falls to them as take it in.-Silas Marner.
There's never a garden in all the parish but what there's endless waste in it for want o' somebody as could use everything up. It's what I think to myself sometimes, as there need nobody run short o' victuals if the land was made the most on, and there was never a morsel but what could find its way to a mouth. It sets one thinking o' that-gardening does.-Aaron Winthrop.
There's debts we can't pay like money debts, by paying extra for the years that have slipped by. While I've been putting off and putting off, the trees have been growing—it's too late now.—Godfrey Cass.
I always think the flowers can see us and know what we're talking about.- Eppie.
Nothing is so good as it seems beforehand.-Nancy Lammeter.
Master Winthrop.-Fayder, how does that big cock’s-feather stick in Mrs. Crackenthorp's yead? Is there a little hole for it, like in my shuttle-cock ?
Mr. Winthrop.-Hush, lad, hush ; that's the way the ladies dress theirselves, that is. It does make her look funny, though-partly like a short-necked bottle wi' a long quill in it.
Mr. Snell.-Ay, but there's more going on in the stables than what folks see by daylight, eh, Mr. Macey?
Mr. Macey.-Ay, ay; go that way of a dark night, that's all, and then make believe, if you like, as you didn't see lights i' the stables, nor hear the stamping oʻthe hosses, nor the cracking o' the whips, and howling, too, if it's tow'rt daybreak. Cliff's Holiday' has been the name of it ever sin' I were a boy ; that's to say, some said as it was the holiday Old Harry gev him from roasting, like. That's what my father told me, and he was a reasonable man, though there's folks nowadays know what happened afore they were born better nor they know their own business.
Mr. Snell.—What do you say to that, eh, Dowlas? There's a nut for you to crack.
Mr. Dowlas.-Say ? I say what a man should say as doesn't shut his eyes to look at a finger-post. I say, as I'm ready to wager any man ten pound, if he'll stand out wi' me any dry night in the pasture before the Warren stables, as we shall neither see lights nor hear noises, if it isn't the blowing of our own noses. That's what I say, and I've said it many a time; but there's nobody ’ull ventur a ten-pun' note on their ghos’es as they make so sure of.
Ben Winthrop.—Why, Dowlas, that's easy betting, that is. You might as well bet a man as he wouldn't catch the rheumatise if he stood up to's neck in the pool of a frosty night. It'ud be fine fun for a man to win his bet as he'd catch the rheumatise. Folks as believe in Cliff's Holiday aren't agoing to ventur near it for a matter o’ten pound.
Mr. Macey.- If Master Dowlas wants to know the truth on it, he's no call to lay any bet—let him go and
stan' by himself—there's nobody 'ull hinder him ; and then he can let the parish'ners know if they 're wrong.
Mr. Dowlas.- Thank you ! I'm obliged to you. If folks are fools, it's no business o’mine. I don't want to make out the truth about ghos'es : I know it a'ready. But I'm not against a bet-everything fair and open. Let any man bet me ten pound as I shall see Cliff's Holiday, and I'll go and stand by myself. I want no company. I'd as lief do it as I'd fill this pipe.
Mr. Lundy.—Ah, but who's to watch you, Dowlas, and see you do it ? That's no fair bet.
Mr. Dowlas.—No fair bet ? I should like to hear any man stand up and say I want to bet unfair. Come now, Master Lundy, I should like to hear you say it.
Mr. Lundy.–Very like you would. But it's no business o’mine. You 're none o' my bargains, and I aren't agoing to try and ’bate your price. If anybody 'll bid for you at your own vallying, let him. I'm for peace and quietness, I am.
Mr. Dowlas.—Yes, that's what every yapping cur is, when you hold a stick up at him. But I'm afraid o'neither man nor ghost, and I'm ready to lay a fair bet-I aren't a turn-tail cur.
Mr. Snell.—Ay, but there's this in it, Dowlas. There's folks, i' my opinion, they can't see ghos’es, not if they stood as plain as a pike-staff before 'em. And there's reason i' that. For there's my wife, now, can't smell, not if she'd the strongest o cheese under her nose. I never see'd a ghost myself ; but then I says to myself, ‘Very like I haven't got the smell for 'em. I mean, putting a ghost for a smell, or else contrairiways. And so, I'm for holding with both sides ; for, as I say, the truth lies between 'em. And if Dowlas was to go and stand, and say he'd never seen a wink o Cliff's Holiday all the night through, I'd back him; and if anybody said as Cliff's Holiday was certain sure for all that, I'd back him too. For the smell's what I go by.
Mr. Dowlas.—Tut, tut, what's the smell got to do with it? Did ever a ghost give a man a black eye ? That's what I should like to know. If ghos’es want me to believe in 'em, let 'em leave off skulking i' the dark and i' lone places—let 'em come where there's company and candles.
Mr. Macey.—As if ghos’es ’ud want to be believed in by anybody so ignirant !
END OF 'SILAS MARNER.'