AB-O'TH-YATE AND HIS "MI-TROO-RAL OO."

Star (Christchurch), Issue 826, 19 January 1871, Page 3

AB-O'TH-YATE AND HIS "MI-TROO-RAL OO."

.+, (From Ben Brierley's Journal.) Just before dozin' o'er I began o' thinkin' abeaut th' war; what a wicked thing it wur for folk to feight when they'n nowt to feight for ; smashin' one another int' pieces wi' engines, like breakin' stews up for a weddin' breakfast. If they'd try which coul I swing a piece o' owler abeaut th' best, an' sattle things that road, one met sit an' watch, an' happen put o foout in if it wur wanted; but usin' these what-dun-they-co'ems — these mi-troo-ral oos or summat, ut con mak' a mon's body like a pepper-box lid i' three quarters of a second - oh, it maks me feel as if Ire drawin' my wynt through fifty holes just hewmade. Wi' these things in my yead I went o'er pop; and somehow geet agate o' botherin' my brains wi' em, and inventin' things mysel' ut ud sweep ' folk deawn like Owd Thuston mowin' i th' " Hauve Acre." I'd geered th' owd " feel-loss-o speed " up, an' fastened a machine to it ut looked like a row o' palisades rolled up. These wur barrels wi' one end on 'em fixed in a big coffee mill loaden wi' bullets. Th' fust trial I made a blew in th' end o' Owd Thustoh's shippon, an' made sich havoc amung th' keaws ut ther no end o' chep beef after. I his wur weel enough for me and th' neighbours, but bnd for Owd Thuston; but when I tbwd him I should get a mint o' money for it, an' he should have a new shippon, an' his stock doubled, he looked" so fain as never wur. Th' next time I tried th' machine I'd collected a lot o' blacklegs; a dozen German bands; as mony organ grinders; a lung firm or two; some slink butchers ; a jorum o' pi k-pockets an' heausebreakers; an' abeaut fifty quacks; an' th' way ut 1 operated upo' th' lot browt me th' thanks o' owd England deawn to a mon. Th' King o' Prussia an' th' Emperor Nap had getten to yer abeaut this concarn, an' they sent for me to th' war. When one doesno' know which side they're on, and dunno care a button for noather, a shillin' or two to some folk 'il mak' th' difference i' choice; an' I've my two-legged weakness as well as anybody. I'd goo an' ! see which ud give th' best price for makin' th' tother int' spoon-mavte. After takkin' a farewell o' th' owd Rib an' th' childer, wi' sich speckilations abeaut new cloas as made it like a half-day do, I set eaut for th' war, wi' my uncle Jammy's^ volunteer sword hangin' by my side, an' a cockade i' my hat ut we'd used for a potato crusher. Heaw I geet to th' feightin' greaund I dunno' know. * must ha' flown theere; for I'd no recollection o' bein' Bhipped, nor rail roaded, now. nowt o' that sort. Heawever, I fund mysel' an' my " feel-loss o'-speed-mi-too-ral-oo" on " The Banks of the Blue Moselle," as paur Sal used to sing abeaut, wi' th' French o' one side an' th' Prussians o' th' tother, grinnin' at one another like bulldogs ut wanted a meauthful o'. windpipe. A chap wi' summat like a two-legged corkscrew' under his nose coom up to me, an' I could see here pikin' th' leg of a frog, like atin' shrimps. He took bis hat off to me an' said — " Vat you be Ab o'-de — vat d'ye call it ?" " Th' same potatto," he said. " I am de Emperare," he said; an' he sent his shoothers up to his ears, as if here meauntebankin'. " Oh, yo' are ? Gi'e me yor fist then," I said. Aji' he gang it me. , Have you got de— de— yon veel bobbin — de veel loss-o'-speed — de mi-too-ral-oo ?" ; " There it is," I said; an' l pointed to^th' owd piece o' machinery, ut looked as if it wur come'n a-grindin' coffee for 'em. " Vat vill you take to blow op all de I^roosians and de Sharmans to de— de coalpit down dare ? " An' he pointed wi' his finger to th' greeund. I reckon he meant a warm shop. Afore I could give him a onswer ther another mon coome ridin' up, carry in' a stick wi' a white rag at th' end, an' he waved it i' th' Emperor's face. Then they began o' fo'in eaut, wurr than two wesher-women, i' some Bort o' jabber, ut it would tak' o' th' skep'-mesters i' England for ■%' understand. X.h* they kept showin' their brass i' big pusses, an' offerin' it to me. I could see ut they'rn biddin' one agein th' tother, an' I'

should have a chance o' doing summat grand e'enneaw. At last I said: - '•Neaw, yo' two wastTels (I dunho' think knew th' meanin' o' wastrels, they grinned so nicely), I'll tell yo' what I'll do with yo'. Yon noather on yo' nowt to feight for ut anybody cares abeaut beside yo'rsels ; so feight it eaut yo'rselß, an' 111 see fairplay I've browt two pair o' clogs wi* me— gradely Lancashire owlei*; put 'em on, an' let's see heaw yo' con use 'em. If yo' dunno, I'll blow booath o' yo'r armies to Banter o' Boby's — tkat'snine miles furr than wheere kings an' emperors go'n to when they dee'n." They jabbered eaut a lot o' summat ut 1 could no mak' nowt eaut on nubbut this— ut it wurno' their own wish ut they should feight, but they'd bin set on by folk at th' back on 'em. If these wur cant o'th' road they should be as big friends as ever. "Let's ha these folk drawn up, then," I said. They blew their trumpets; an' in a minit there sich a swarm of. folk coome, like two cleauds meetin' — generals, ambassadors, prime ministers, parlyment men, an' some I couldno' kessun; un they purtended to look as innocent as new-born babbies. " Neaw then," I said to the creawd; " deawn on yor knees, an' mak' very short prayers. Yon a lung journey afore you," an' I set abeaut chargin' my coffee mill. They raised a very strung objection to bein' sent on their travels; but I knew it wur no use. They'd ha' to goo. Then I keaunted twenty, an* said—" Here goes I" I banged off at once— every barrel i' th' machine; an' th' creawd wur swept away— not exactly as they coome, i'two cleauds, but i' one; an' th' noise they made o'er gooin' wur like thunner far off. "Neaw, then," I said to th' two armies, "shake hoods, lads, an' be friends; an' if ever anybody tries to mak' yo int' enimies, send word to Walmsley Fowt, an' I'll see wh 1 1 con do for 'em. God bless everybody I" ' In a crack they flew int' one another's arms; an' th' sheaut ut wur setup— wakkent me. " Whatever's to do wi' thee, Ab ?" the Owd Rib said, nu'gin' me. " Go t' sleep," I said; for Ire vexed past abidin' ut my feightin' w.ur nobbut a dreeam.