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As I told you, I heard Barraclough bellowing in the midst of a conventicle like a possessed bull;
he went along the causeway, where the road boasted the privilege of such an accommodation; ‘splash, splash,’ through the mire-filled cart ruts, where the flags were exchanged for soft mud.
revellers on an oaken settle,
There was no necessity — I told him so — and on such a night; but walk forwards.’
‘Helstone says these three are your gods; that the “Orders in Council” are with you another name for the seven deadly sins;
to take a cottage adjoining it for his residence, and to add to his possessions, as pasture for his horse, and space for his cloth-tenters, a few acres of the steep, rugged land that lined the hollow through which his mill-stream brawled.
need not expect me to go along with you every step of your dismal, downward- tending, unchristian road; you need not expect me to join in your deep anathemas, at once so narrow and so sweeping, in your poisonous rancour, so intense and so absurd, against ‘the cloth;’ to lift up my eyes and hands with a Supplehough, or to inflate my lungs with a Barraclough, in horror and denunciation of the diabolical rector of Briarfield.
crabbed contumacy.
Shepherd of Horeb.’
which you often stickle for in your sermons, and the duty of non-resistance, and the sanity of war, and —’
my notion was they were all fresh.
And here, by the Lord, is another set with lights in their pitchers, like the army of Gideon;
He’s happen gone to visit some poor body in a sick gird, or he’s happen hunting down vermin in
‘My father war afore me, and that’s all t’ answer I sall gie thee; and it’s as good a reason as Mr. Helstone can give for the main feck o’ his notions.’
Yorkshire burr,’ he affirmed, ‘was as much better than a cockney’s lisp as a bull’s bellow than a ratton’s squeak.’
He scouted the idea of inevitable evils. He
My mother was an Anversoise, though she came of French lineage,
them young parsons and grand folk fro’ London is shocked at wer “incivility;” and we like weel enough to gi’e ’em summat to be shocked at, ‘cause it’s sport to us to watch ’em turn up the whites o’ their een, and spreed out their bits o’ hands, like as they’re flayed wi’ bogards, and then to hear ’em say, nipping off their words short like, “Dear!
And there’s many ‘cuter nor me; there’s many a one amang them greasy chaps ‘at smells o’ oil, and amang them dyers wi’ blue and black skins that has a long head, and that can
tell what a fooil of a law is, as well as ye or old Yorke and a deal better nor soft uns like Christopher Sykes o’ Whinbury, and greet hectoring nowts like yond’ Irish Peter, Helstone’s curate.’
Agar’s wish, and lived in fair and modest competency.
Instead, then, of harrowing up my reader’s soul and delighting his organ of wonder with effective descriptions of stripes and scourgings, I am happy to be able to inform him that neither Mr. Moore nor his overlooker ever struck a child in their mill.
the children, released for half an hour from toil, betook themselves to the little tin cans which held their coffee, and to the small baskets which contained their allowance of bread. Let us hope they have enough to eat; it would be a pity were it otherwise.
‘Jew’s basket be — sold! Never was utensil better named. Anything more Jewish than it — its contents and their prices — cannot be conceived.
wtf
Jew-basket.
likewise
It ought to be explained in passing, for the benefit of those who are not au fait to the mysteries of the ‘Jew-basket’ and ‘missionary basket,’
that would be me. thanks, Charlotte
there was a glance in his eye which seemed to invoke the devil, and lay charges on him to sweep the whole concern to Gehenna.
Gehenna= hell
However, having chosen a pen and stripped away the feathered top in a brief spasm of finger-fury
This suggest something I've read elsewhere, that people removed the feathers from quill pens before they started writing. but you see pictures of people holding feathery quills, so I am not sure.
satisfied and bland in his seat. Moore, chary of words, replied by a negative movement
chary=careful, wary
Putting on a quiet but pawky look, he said, —
pawky = having a sly sense of humor
Moore looked as if he should have liked to fool him to the top of his bent.
?
Moore, with all his faults, might be esteemed; for he had no moral scrofula in his mind, no hopeless polluting taint — such, for instance, as that of falsehood; neither was he the slave of his appetites.
I don’t think we should trust to what they call passion at all, Caroline. I believe it is a mere fire of dry sticks, blazing up and vanishing: but we watch him, and see him kind to animals, to little children, to poor people.
Indisputably, a great, good, handsome man is the first of created things.’
Again, but a few days ago, Michael took the trouble of appearing at the counting-house door, hatless, in his shirt- sleeves, — his coat and castor having been detained at the public-house in pledge;
castor is an old word for beaver, the animal. according the the OED it also meant a hat made from beaver fur, but began to mean something supposed to resemble beaver but likelier to be rabbit (which presumably was less fancy) Charlotte appears to be using this humorously or sarcastically considering the context
and waves tumbling in upon it rather than of the graves under the Rectory hack-kitchen?’
I was perplexed by "hack-kitchen," but this turns out to be scanning error. In my penguin classics print edition it is "back-kitchen."
‘My dears,’ here interrupted Mrs. Pryor, ‘does it not strike you that your conversation for the last ten minutes has been rather fanciful?’
They were talking about MERMAIDS! lol
piques
here
he was a frontless, arrogant; decorous slip of the commonplace; conceited, inane, insipid: and this gentleman had a notion of wooing Miss Keeldar!
’tis so ugly — a mere carter’s dog — pray hang him.’
‘And purchase in his stead some sweetly pooty pug
‘Ay, Miss Shirley, there’s a gleg light i’ your een sometimes which betrays you. You look raight down scornful sometimes, when Mr. Donne is by.’
gleg is Scottish: marked by quickness of perception or movement.
‘Me? I’m stalled o’ t’ curates, and so is t’ wife: they’ve no manners; they talk to poor folk fair as if they thought they were beneath them.
Ay, I am proud, and so are ye; but your pride and mine is t’ raight mak’ — what we call i’ Yorkshire clean pride — such as Mr. Malone and Mr. Donne knows nought about: theirs is mucky pride.
‘Indeed! There is prayer and preaching agate in that church: are we not concerned in that?’
‘I think that women are a kittle and a froward generation; and I’ve a great respect for the doctrines delivered in the second chapter of St. Paul’s first Epistle to Timothy.’
