noch, looking love
through his mild blue eyes at his wife, who knew so well how to
defend her own, 'all reet; but if thaa durnd mind I'll tell Mr.
Penrose abaat Dickey o' Wams.'

'An' I'll tell him abaat Edge End "Messiah," and thi marlock wi'
th' owd piccolo.'

'Supposing I hear both stories,' said the minister. 'Then I can
apply both, and judge between you.'

'Oh! there's nowt in 'em,' replied Enoch. 'Sometimes, thaa knows,
when hoo's a bit fratchy, I plague her wi' tellin' o' Dickey o'
Wams, who wor talkin' abaat his wife's tantrums, when his maisther
stopped him and said, "Dickey, wherever did ta pike her up?" and
he said, "Oh, 'mang a lot more lumber up Stackkirk way."'

As this story was told with all the dry humour of which Enoch
possessed so large a share, both the old woman and Mr. Penrose
crowned it with a hearty laugh, the minister turning to his
hostess and saying:

'Now, Mrs. Ashworth, it's your turn. What about the Edge End
"Messiah"?'

'Mun I tell him, Enoch?'

'Yi, owd lass; id 'll pleeas thee, and noan hurt me. Brast (start)
off.'

'Well, yo' mun know, Mr. Penrose, they were givin' th' "Messiah"
at Edge End. Eh! dear, Enoch,' sighed the old woman, stopping
short in her story, 'it's thirty year sin' come next Kesmas.'

'Yi, lass, it is. There's some snow fallen sin' then.'

'There hes that, an' we've bed our share and o'. But, as I wor
tellin' yo', Mr. Penrose, they wor givin' th' "Messiah" at Edge
End, and bed just getten to "How beautiful are th' feet." Naa, it
wor arranged that aar Enoch mud play th' piccolo accompaniment,
and he started fairly weel. Happen he wor a bit flat, for th'
chapel wor very hot, an' most o' th' instruments aat o' pitch.
But, as I say, he started fairly weel, when th' conductor, a chap
fra Manchester, who thought he knew summat, said, "Hooisht,
hooisht!" But th' owd lad stuck to his tune. Then th' conductor
banged his stick on th' music, and, wi' a face as red as a
soudger's coite (soldier's coat), called aat agen, "Hooisht!
Doesto yer?--hooisht!" But he'd mistaan his mon, Mr. Penrose, for
Enoch nobbud stopped short to say, "Thee go on with thi
conductin'. If hoo'll sing I'll play." And hoo did sing an' o'.
An' Enoch welly blew his lips off wi' playin', I con tell thi.
But, somehaa or other, hoo never cared to come and sing i' these
parts after, and they never geet Enoch to tak' th' piccolo
accompaniment agen to "How beautiful are th' feet."'

'Nowe, an' they