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!