in it."

"Summat in it! Has ta noa moor sense nor to believe in a lot o' lyin
vagabones like thease? Let's get hooam, they're nooan fit spots for
daycent fowk, an' aw hooap awst niver catch thi i' one agean! Come on!"

"Why, tha browt me, didn't ta? an' tha seemd to believe in it."

"Eea, aw believed' em soa long as aw knew what they tell'd me wor true, but
as sooin as they start lyin, aw can't believe 'em then; but aw wish awd
hold o' that chap's toppin, an' awd shake th' truth aght on him, or else
awd rive his heead off--nasty low-lived sneak as he is! But come on
hooam, an if tha waits wol aw bring thi agean, tha'll wait wol tha'rt a
thaasand year old, an moor ner that."

They went aght, an in a bit quietness wor restored.

After a few moor remarks, th' cheerman sed 'at it wor too far on i'th' day
for ony moor sperits to be sent for, for th' mediums had another meeting to
attend that neet, soa he read aght another hymn, an' we tried to sing it to
th' tune ov "Sweet spirit, hear mi prayer," but we couldn't, for Cinnamon
wor too mich for us all--he wor a deal better brayer nor prayer, an' after
one or two moor tries, th' cheerman sed "'at unless that gentleman (lukkin
at Cinnamon) wod awther swallow a scaarin--stooan an' a pund o' sweet sooap
to clear his voice, or else keep his maath shut, we should have to leave
singin aght o'th' question altogether." But Cinnamon worn't to be put
daan; an' he tell'd th' cheerman 'at if he didn't know what singin wor he
did, an' when he wor in Horstraly (A voice--"What does ta know abaat
Horstraly, tupheead, tha niver went noa farther ner Burtonheead i' all thi
life"). This ryled Cim, an' he up wi' a stooil an' whew'd it slap at th'