Lancashire Humour Part 7

"And you are employed as a ganger on this section of the Ca.n.a.l?"

"Aw believe aw am."

"And you lodge over here?" pointing to a group of cottages shown on a map of the particular locality.

"Aw do," answered Jim.

"And you cross this field" (again pointing to the map) "daily--two or three times a day--going to and coming from your work?"

"Yea," was Jim's reply.

"And in going and coming you have, of course, seen men engaged in boring for coal?"

"Noa aw haven't," said Jim in reply, shaking his head.

"You have not seen men boring for coal in this particular field?"

(again pointing out the place on the map).

"Noa!" said Jim, stolidly.

"And yet you live here, and pa.s.s and repa.s.s this field several times a day!"

"Yea aw do."

"And you actually tell me that you have never seen workmen boring for coal in this field?"

"Aw do," said Jim.

"Now, on your oath, be careful--have you not seen men engaged in making borings in this field?"

"Oh! ay," replied Jim, "Aw've seed 'em boring."

Counsel smiled triumphantly, stretched himself up, and looked round the Court and towards the umpire with a self-satisfied air.

"You _have_ seen them boring for coal, then?"

"Noa," responded Jim with an imperturbable face.

Counsel fumed. "You have not seen them boring for coal!" (shaking his finger at Jim).

"Noa, not for coal. Aw _have_ seen 'em boring."

"Then what the d----l _were_ they boring for?"

"They wur boring for compensation!"

That was sufficient. Jim had landed his salmon, and there was a shout of laughter in the Court as the discomfited counsel resumed his seat.

Jim was troubled with no more questions. His last answer put the value of the land on its true basis. Humour is a wonderful lever in aiding the accomplishment of one's purpose. If Jim had bluntly expressed his opinion at the outset that this was a case of attempted imposition, the opinion would only have been taken for what it was worth, and the result might have been very different. The imperturbable way in which he led the learned counsel up to the climax, which, when reached, rendered further argument superfluous, was of the drollest.

The Lancas.h.i.+re man abroad does not lose his individuality. He is not great as a philosopher, and therefore has a wholesome contempt of foreigners. The world is not _his_ parish as it might be if peopled by his own kith and kin. This insular prejudice against the foreigner on the part of our working men is exemplified by a circ.u.mstance which occurred in my own experience.

When I was engaged in certain engineering work in Brazil, I got out from Lancas.h.i.+re three skilled men to carry out a contract that I had in hand. They had been in that country a few weeks, when I asked one of them how he liked the place.

"Oh, tidy well," replied he, "it wouldn't be a bad place at all if there weren't so many d----d foreigners about!"

Not for a moment recognising the fact that it was _he_ who was the foreigner, and not the natives whom he affected to despise: a trait in our character which I fear is not confined to the lower cla.s.ses, whether in Lancas.h.i.+re or elsewhere, in England.

The ludicrous situation in which Ben Brierley was one day placed was related to me by Ben himself. One Sat.u.r.day afternoon Ben was pa.s.sing along Piccadilly (Manchester) on the Infirmary side, and seeing an old woman with a basket of fine oranges before her--three for twopence--Ben selected three for which he tendered a s.h.i.+lling, having no smaller coin. The old orange-vendor was unable to change it, but, unwilling to lose a customer, she whipped up the s.h.i.+lling, saying: "Howd on a bit, maister, and tent my basket while I goo get change."

Before Ben could expostulate--and, indeed, before he could realise the position--she was off to seek change for the s.h.i.+lling. For full five minutes Ben had to stand guard behind the basket. If he had not done so, its contents would quickly have been purloined by some of the mischievous lads always hanging about the Infirmary flags. Ben declared that during the interval, which seemed an age, he never before felt so ridiculous and queer. The street was thronged with foot pa.s.sengers, but fortunately none seemed to recognise "Ab o' th' Yate,"

though several stared hard at the respectable-looking orange-vendor.

In the _Cornhill Magazine_ (for Feb. 1899) the following examples are given of the "Humours of School Inspection."

"A pupil teacher in a Lancas.h.i.+re school was asked to describe the way in which he had spent his Easter holidays. This was the answer: 'At Easter I and a companion went to Knot Mill Fair. We did not take much account of the show except for the marionettes and wild beasts. But we much preferred the latter, _in cages_, for we were thus enabled to study the works of G.o.d, without the danger of being torn in pieces!'"

"Here," says the writer, "the Lancas.h.i.+re shrewdness is finely ill.u.s.trated."

And here, from the same source, is an instance of the total annihilation of a smart young Inspector by some intelligent infants in another Lancas.h.i.+re school. H.M.I. was examining the six-year-olds in object lessons before the Vicar and his lively daughter, thus:--

_H.M.I._ What is this made of (producing a penny)?

_Children._ Copper.

_H.M.I._ No, children, you are mistaken; it is made of bronze, which is a mixture of tin and copper. Now, what is it made of?

_Children._ Bronze.

_H.M.I._ And this? (showing a sixpence).

_Children._ Silver.

_H.M.I._ Quite right; and this? (fumbling for a half-sovereign, but on failing to find it, rashly flouris.h.i.+ng his seal ring in their faces).

_Children_ (to the infinite amus.e.m.e.nt of the Vicar's daughter). Bra.s.s!

_H.M.I._ My dear children, no! It's gold. Look more closely at it, now--yes, you may hand it round. Now what use do you think I have for this ring?

_Little Girl._ Please, Sir, to be married with. (Vicar's daughter convulsed in the corner.)

_H.M.I._ No, no! _Men_ don't wear wedding rings. But when your father seals a letter what does he do it with?

_Little boy_ (briskly). Please, sir, a bra.s.s farden.