Sometimes the sour
rudeness amounts to positive insult. Yet, if the "foreigner" takes all
this churlishness good-humouredly, or as a matter of course, and makes
good any claim upon their latent kindliness and hospitality, they are
faithful and generous, and thoroughly to be relied upon. As a slight
illustration of the roughness that pervades all classes in these out-of-
the-way villages, I may relate a little adventure which happened to my
husband and myself, three years ago, at Addingham--
From Penigent to Pendle Hill,
From Linton to Long-_Addingham_
And all that Craven coasts did tell, &c.--
one of the places that sent forth its fighting men to the famous old
battle of Flodden Field, and a village not many miles from Haworth.
We were driving along the street, when one of those ne'er-do-weel lads
who seem to have a kind of magnetic power for misfortunes, having jumped
into the stream that runs through the place, just where all the broken
glass and bottles are thrown, staggered naked and nearly covered with
blood into a cottage before us. Besides receiving another bad cut in the
arm, he had completely laid open the artery, and was in a fair way of
bleeding to death--which, one of his relations comforted him by saying,
would be likely to "save a deal o' trouble."
When my husband had checked the effusion of blood with a strap that one
of the bystanders unbuckled from his leg, he asked if a surgeon had been
sent for.
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