Aw shall niver forget Sammy Sawney. He's deead nah an' it's a pity at owt like him iver should dee, for he wor net only t' first but aw believe t'last o' 'tsooart. Aw niver remember him as a lad, for he wor a gooid age when aw wor born, but aw've heeard enuff abaat him to mak me feel as if aw'd known him at that time, an' judgin' bi what aw knew on him as an old man aw can believe it ivery word true.

Sammy's mother wor a widdy, an' he wor her only child. Shoo wor worth a little bit o' brass, an' his fayther had been considered varry weel to do, for he'd abaat twenty hand-loom weyvers workin for him, an' his bumbazines wor allus considered t'best i' t'market. When Sammy wor four year old shoo detarmined to send him to t'schooil an' have him eddicated for a banker's clerk, for to be handlin brass all t'day long wor to her t'happiest condition i' life.

It wor easy enough to send Sammy to t'schooil but to get him eddicated wor another matter, an' whether it wor as t'schooil-maister sed, 'at his heead wor too thick iver to drive owt into it, or, as his mother said, 'at t'schooilmaister knew nowt an' soa he could taich nowt, aw dooant pretend to say.

Little Sammy hadn't a varry easy time on it, for he wor shifted abaat throo one schooil to another, wol he hadn't mich o' a chonce o' leearnin' even if he had some brains, an' ther' wor at sed he hadn't.

But his mother had faith ther wor summat in him, an' varry likely ther wor, for nowt iver coom aght, an' what some fowk called wrangheeadedness, shoo considered to be genius badly directed.

One day he wor at t'beckside, an' shoo went to see what he wor dooin', an' as shoo saw he'd nobbut one clog, shoo axed him what he'd done wi' tother, an' he sed he'd made it into a booat, an' it had sailed away down t'beck, soa shoo tawked nicely, an' tell'd him he shouldn't do soa, for it wor lost, an' he mud allus remember 'at if he put owt into t'beck, he'd niver see it ony moor, for t'watter ran daan at sich a rate; but he sed he'd fun aght a better way o' dooin' it next time, for he'd put t'furst in wi' t'toa pointin daan t'hill, but when he put t'next in, he'd point t'toa up t'hill, an' it wouldn't find it quite soa easy gooin.

"A'a, Sammy lad," sed his mother, as shoo stroked his heead, "tha's a deal moor i' this nop nor ivver thi fayther had, or me awther, for aw should niver ha' thowt o' that." Sammy put tother in, takkin care to point t'toe t'contrary way to what t'watter wor runnin, but as sooin as he left lawse it turned raand an' foller'd tother, an' wor sooin aght o' seet.

"Nah, then!" he sed "didn't aw tell yo? If it hadn't turned raand, it 'ud ha' been goin' up t'hill, but t'chap 'at made them clogs didn't mak' 'em reights an' lefts. Yo see they're booath left, an' aw believe that's the reason aw've allus been lat to t'schooil."

"Niver heed, Sammy, tha shalln't go to t'school ony moor, for aw believe tha'rt better able to taich t'maisters nor they are to taich thee."

"Awm sewer on it mother; for t'last maister aw had sed awd towt him patience, an' awm sartin he niver towt me owt."

"Come thi ways, lad, an' awl buy thee some new clogs at another shop, but dooant put any moor into that beck, unless tha tees a string to 'em, if tha does awst ha' to give thee a lickin, soa tha knows; for even knowledge can be bowt too dear."

After gettin his new clogs, shoo tuk him into a spice shop to buy a penorth o' owt he liked, soa he ax'd t'old woman for a penorth o' humbugs; but as sooin as he'd getten 'em, he altered his mind an' thowt he'd have acid drops, soa shoo changed em'; but he'd hardly getten 'em when he changed his mind, an' said he'd rayther have a rockstick, an' when he'd gate that, he wor walkin' aght, an' shoo sang aght after him 'at he'd niver paid her for it.

"Why, aw gave yo t'acid drops for it."

"Eea, but tha niver paid for t'acid drops."

"A'a, what a tale I didn't aw give yo t'humbugs?"

"But tha niver paid for t'humbugs."

"Why, aw havn't etten t'humbugs, have aw? Didn't aw give' em yo agean? Yo dooant want payin' twice, sewerlee?",

"Well aw dooant know hah it is, what tha says saands reight enuff; but what aw do know is, at tha's getten a rockstick, an' aw havn't getten a penny."

"You see what it is to be a scholar," sed his mother; "but yo'st loise nowt bi a child o' mine," soa shoo gave her t'penny an' coom away.

As they wor walkin on, Sammy put t'last bit into his maath an' sed, "mother, can yo tell me why is old Sally like that rockstick?"

"Nay lad, awm sewer aw cannot."

"Becoss they've booath getten suckt."

"A'a, lad, dooant study soa mich, awm feeard strainin thi brain, but can ta spell brain?"

"Brane."

"Nay, lad, ther's a I in it."

"Then aw must have three, if aw've two i' mi heead an' one i' mi brain."

"Aw niver thowt o' that, but tha'rt far too clivver for me, an' awst nivver rest until aw get thi into a bank."

Now it soa happened 'at ther wor a man 'at had done business wi' Sammy's fayther i' former days, an' after a bit o' persuadin he consented to tak' him into his office, an' t'lad wor soa praad ov his place, 'at, strange as it seems, he did begin to leearn a bit o' summate T'chap tuk a deeal o' pains wi him, an' his mother's heart wor oft made glad wi' hearin a gooid accaant of his gooins on. When he used to goa to his dinner wi' a pen stuck behind his ear, an' his finger daubed wi' ink, as if he'd been cleeanin' aght t'ink bottles, shoo could hardly keep her arms off his neck, an' monny a time shoo'd sit watchin him as he put t'puddin aght o' t'seet, wi' tears in her een, an' wish his farther wor thear to see him. But his face grew whiter an' he didn't seem to have as mich life in him as he used to have, an' this caused her a deeal ov uneasiness, an' at last shoo decided to goa an' have a word wi' his maister. Shoo went to t'office, an' they made a gurt fuss o' t'old woman an' ax'd her into a private raam to sit daan.

"Aw've come," shoo sed, "to have a word or two abaat ahr Sammy; aw should like to know hah yo think he gets on?"

"Better than we expected," he said; "he runs errands very well and his writing is better than it was, but his spelling wants improving, yet we think we shall be able to make a man of him."

"Well, if that's all aw think he'll get better on it, an' as for spellin a word wrang nah an' then aw dooant see 'at that maks mich difference soa long as yo know what it meeans. But what do yo think troubles him t'mooast?"

"Well at the present time it's with the which's, but you must excuse me just now for a very important customer has called and I must see him." Soa he jumpt up an' left her. It didn't tak her long to get hooam, an' as shoo'd allus been ov a superstitious way o' thinkin, her mind wor filled wi' anxiety abaat her lad.

"Just to think," shoo sed, as shoo trudged along, "'at he should be bewitched! A grand lad like him-but it's somdy at's done it just aght o' spite, an' aw've a varry gooid noation who's done it. It's that nasty gooid-for-nowt 'at lives at t'back o' awr haase,—shoo's niver been able to bide t'seet on him sin' he cut her cat tail off, an' shoo knew well enuff he nobbut did it for fun. But awl see if aw connot braik t'spell." As shoo had to pass a smithy on her way hooam shoo went in, an' axed if they'd an old horseshoe to give her, for shoo knew that wor a thing 'at witches couldn't bide t'seet on.

"Why, Meary, what dun yo want it for. Are yo freetened o' t'boggards?"

"Awst nooan be freetened o' thee if tha wor a boggard," shoo sed, "but has ta getten one?"

"Well, aw dooant know, but aw've a pair o' donkey shooin here, if tha thinks they'll fit yor Sammy tha can have' em an' welcome."

"Aw think they'd be a deeal moor likely to fit thee, judgin bi t'length o' thi ears," shoo sed; "but aw want a horseshoe if tha's getten one, an' if tha hasn't say soa, an' dooant keep me waitin here."

He hunted abaat till he rooited one aght, an' he gave it her, an' shoo put it in her pocket an' went off withaat iver stoppin to thank him for it. When Sammy had getten his supper shoo sent him to bed, an' tell'd him to leave her his waistcoit, as shoo wanted to do summat at it. As sooin as shoo wor bi hersen shoo pool'd t'horseshoe aght ov her pocket an' began to plan hah shoo could fasten it to t'back ov his waistcoit, for shoo thowt that wod be t'best place for it, an' although it wor a nasty thing to hug up an daan, yet it wor a deeal better nor havin to live under t'influence ov a evil eye. It tuk her a bit o' seheamin befoor shoo gate it stitched on to her fancy, but patience won t'battle, an' when shoo went to bed she felt easier in her mind.

T'next mornin shoo'd a deal o' trouble to get Sammy to put it on, for he couldn't tell t'meanin on it, but his mother lukt soa serious abaat it 'at he didn't like to say he wodn't wear it.

He went to his wark, but his jacket didn't fit quite as well as usual, an' as for keep in his waistcoat i' ony-bit-like shape, he couldn't do it, for t'weight behind wor soa heavy wol it pool'd t'buttons ommost up to his chin, an' when he sat on his stooil i' t'front o' t'desk, he felt as if somdy wor tryin' to upset him backards. When he went to his dinner, he felt as if he wor huggin a pack, an' he begged hard ov his mother to let him goa withaat it, but shoo sed shoo darn't trust him aght ov her seet if he hadn't it on, for it wor to shield him. "It's a queer place for a shield," he sed, "but awl try it this afternooin, an' if it doesn't feel easier awst niver put it on agean."

When he coom hooam at neet, he wor booath tired an' cross; an' after his Supper he gat a slate an' pencil an' sat daan to write, lukkin' varry glum. His mother watched him varry anxiously for a while, an' then shoo sed quietly, "Tha doesn't look varry weel to-neet, Sammy, does ta think tha'rt goin' to have a spell o' sickness?" "Noa, but awm sick o' spellin', for t'gaffer's allus agate on me becoss aw connot spell 'which.' Aw've spell'd it wich-whitch-witch-an' which-du' awl goa to hummer if aw can tell which is which even nah. Aw wish ther worn't a which."

"Which witch does ta mean, Sammy?"

"Aw can't tell which which, aw wish aw could."

"A'a Sammy," shoo sed, an shoo threw her arms raand his neck, "tha's taen a load offmy mind!"

"Well, you've putten me one on to mi waistcoit."

"Tak it off, lad, for tha doesn't need it! Tha doesn't know hah thankful aw am, for when aw wor tawkin' to thi maister yesterday he sed tha wor troubled wi' witches, an' aw sewed t'horseshoe on to scare 'em."

"Which whiches did he mean?"

"Which witches witch?"

"Aw can't tell which is which."

"Nivver heed which it is, Sammy, soa long as it isn't a witch. If it's nobbut a difference ov a letter or two aw can't see 'at it means owt. Goa thi ways to bed, an' dooant let me have to call on thee for a clock haar before tha frames to get up."