[From pp72/74 ? c. 1902]

Margit the Spinner.

BY CHRISTIAN CALLISTER.[pseud George Cross]

Margit the Spinner

MARGIT, like Priscilla of old, was a famous spinner. She had a funny, pleasant, little wrinkled face, much like a roasted russet apple. She was humorous, and loved " to pass a joke." Her husband Juan was a fisher man, who made . a scanty pittance by long-line fishing on. the wind-swept Lhen shore, but Margit made the living for herself and little granddaughter by spinning for her neighbours, and even for the farmers' wives at many miles distant.

Her fame for " stocking thread " (worsted) spread abroad, and traps, carts, and gigs were often seen outside her cottage, while sacks of "rowls" were carried thence and placed on the long wooden "bink," that ran alongside her thatched abode.

Margit also kept a shop in her clean, neat parlour; bottles of "Margit's toffee," famous stuff, made by herself, stood side by side with bottles of lemonade, ginger-beer, packets of chocolate, and other tempting things which were displayed in her window, the sill of which was decorated with three lumps of Foxdale spar, which Juan had presented her in their "sooreeing" (courting) days. The cottage was religiously white-washed every May, which made it glitter and glint in the sun.

Margit filled every available bucket and tub with flowers.

" The nice and refreshing the saint (scent) of gilvers (gilly-flowers) is," she would say, plucking a bunch for her favourite customers. During the summer she would carry her wheel into the open air, and with a little "hart of rowls " on her lap, would sit on the "bink" and spin away to her heart's content.

Letty, her granddaughter, would sit on a small incline at a little distance, listening lazily to the whirring of the wheel, talking to "grannie," or sleeping in the sun.

Margit was always very particular that Letty kept on her, sun-bonnet, to preserve "her beauty." She would sit by the hour with her own head uncovered, exposed to the tanning influence of the sun. At times Letty half rebelled at being obliged always to have her face screened and shaded.

" The why you don't keep your own sun-bonnet on, grannie?" she asked one day.

"Aw, gelveen (dear), my day is over, but I was a beauty in me young days. I bed a waist like a wasp-Juan seen me at chapel, your- gran'daa, I mane,-and hs was took with me all of a heap." "And where's your waist that was like a wasp now, grannie ? " asked Letty, demurely.

"Aw, it's on me still, chile, but it's nothing like it was when Juan, yer gran'daa, seen me fust, then I was a mortal stout (pretty) looking girl, singing in the Mud Chapel at the anniversary. Aw, them were the anniversaries," and Margit smiled and shook her head unctuously at the recollection.

" They were held at Chrissamus in the chapel."

"But I like them in the summer, out in the fields, grannie, under the trees, with the stages going up high, then I can see everybody and everybody can see me, too," said Lefty, thinking of her experience a few Sundays before.

"Aw, but these days is nothing like the owl days-aw, nothing at all at all like the days when me and Juan, yer gran'daa, I mane, were young."

"These days are far better," said Letty ; " haven't ye told me many a time that in your young days, children were allowed to be seen, but not heard. I want to talk, I don't like to be dumb."

" In them days, childher had great respec' for their parents, it was always when spaking to them, `Yis, ma'am, mamaa,' and `Yis, sir, dadaa.' Now they say `Yes' and `No' like horses."

"But horses don't talk, grannie," persisted Letty.

"There now, there now," laughed Margit, "see how the chile will give me the back answer. She'll go on argafying like an English pracher."

"And don't Manx prachers argafy, too?"

" There now, there now; ye are as bad as any of them. Talk of Manx prachers! Ye ought to have heard Illiam a Close at the last anniversary I was at, at the owl Mud. Aw my; but he was the ghillyer (champion), he could argafy, if ye like! Talk of stages! What was the stages out in the fields to them in the chapel? Nothing at all! They went right up to the scraas (sod roof). I remimber once sitting on the top and me cap every time we stood up to sing touched the scraas. Aw the pretty the caps_ war! Every gel, little or big, had a white muslin cap on, trimmed with lovely coloured ribbons. Aw, it was a mortal altogether pretty sight; and the rosy faces they had! It was fit to make a body cry the pretty they war. And the singin', aw my! " Margit stopped her wheel and raised her hands. She could not find words to express her feelings on the subject.

"And the fiddles! Well, well, there's nothing like it now. They don't half sing now. There's no trainin' of the singers, they only sing a tune once with their teeth shut, but in them days, for months we'd be singin' and singin' until we knew every word by heart, and our voices were like thrushes. The leader standin' before us, wavin' his arrums and shoutin' at us, if we didn't sing out.

"'Sing, gels, sing! Sing for yer li f es, gels! Sing for yer lifes.' "

"You can sing nice yet, grannie." "Aw, nothing at all at all like the owl days in the Mud, when Juan, yer gran'daa, was took with me. I seen him lookin' and lookin' at me, but I was pretendin' not to see, but singin' for me life, but I was seein' him all the time," and she laughed softly. "He thought I was mortal stout (pretty), and I was stout, too, although it's meself that's sayin' it. Keep yer sun bonnet on, chile, and don't let yer face get as brown as a berry. It was'n Juan alone, yer gran'daa, that was took with me. There were two big heiras (heirs) from Ramsey side, tooyis, two heiras, gel! Am not sayin' no names, but they were theer all the same, but they are married now, like myself, and childher grown up and gone out in the world. They were fine young men, but I was likin' Juan, yer gran'daa, far batther nor any of them. The spruce and smart he was, dressed up in his Sunday clothes, comin' across the Lbens every night to the singin'. Ye would'n see the likes of him in a day's walk ; no, ye would'n nither."

"Were you married before the new chapel was built, grannie?"

"I think it was nearly built when I went, and work enough they had to get it built too, aw, work enough. They were not all agraable like, some of the big farmers round about-am not sayin' all, but some-Arould do nothing but laugh, and that ain much help sometimes, and the small farmers hed'n much money, but they were intarmined to build a new chapel.

" Owl Mr. Kaighin-aw, a mortal good man, and a big farmer, too-and Dan the Master, and some others, put theer heads to; ether and called a meeting, and nearly everybody came but them that laughed-they stopped away. Mr. lïaighin got up, and asked what they hed batther do, and explained everything to them, and how short of money they war, and one man got up and said

" ` I'll lind ye me cart and two horses," and another man said

" ` I'll lind ye two carts, and I'll drag all the quarry stones from Lezayre,' and another said that he would `draw sand and gravel from the shore,' and another promised to get the `lime from Ramsey to make the mortar'; and so many promising that soon they had enough help to build two chapels, and the men that were drawing the stones and things paid for them, too, out of their own pockets, and Mr. Kaighin could'n hardly spake, with his voice so tremly, when he heard the kind and the good they war; but the people that were laughing wint on laughing still, but they didn't mind, and owl Dan the Master got up-the good, owl soul-and he pulled out a big book out of his pocket, and be said

"`My kind frinds'-his voice was tremly too---!my kind frins, I'll mark everything ye'll do agin yer name, and yer labour will be counted as money, and we in the end, mebbe, will have done more than them that laugh.'

"They got the chapel up in a jiffey, every one workin' for their very might. Owl men of eighty driving carts and loadin' stones ; and the men that laughed were gettin' frikened, that they would'n hey sates in the big new chapel, and they did'n like that at all at all, so they came with theer pounds and pounds in theer hands, when the people were goin' to get theer sates, and they said `it was for the clearin' off of the expenses' and they wanted the choice of a sate.

"'Wait,' says Dan the Master, 'wait; p'raps some of the people who have laboured have done more than you, and they must have first choice.'

"`But here's the clear money,' they said, indignant like.

"'Wait,' said Dan; and he got up on the top of a pew so that everybody could see him, and read out of the big book what every man had done, and his labour, and lindin' of carts and horses and things war worth, and my! what a sum it came to! And them that laughed and had now come with their big moneys were nowhere-they had to take a lower sate.

"Almost everybody has the same sate to this very day, and nothing will make them give them up, ither. They go with the farm--there's Ballachrink and Ballagar-'-but she was interrupted in her flowing narrative by a child coming to get "a pen'orth of M'argit's toffee" and to make enquiries for her "mother's stocking thread."

"Aw, it's yerself there's in, Jinnie. Tell yer mother it's nearly done. Letty will bring it to her to-morra. Here, veen vogh, 'here's the taffee. The nice and stout yer lookin. The pretty yer brat (pinafore) is."

So Margit rattled on. She rarely ceased talking. She would keep up a lively conversation with the cat, if she could not find a " body" to talk to ; even the wheel sometimes came in for a share in lieu of anything animate. Margit came back to her spinning.

" Jinnie's mother and meself-no, I mane her gran'mother-went to an Oiel Verry at the Mud, am not sure was it the owl chapel, or it might hey been the new, but am thinkin' it mus' hey been the owl chapel; anyway, it was one of the chapels, and it doesn' matter which chapel it was, for it was one of them anyway. Well as I was sayin', Jennie's gran'mother and meself-aw, it mus' have been the owl chapel after all, 'cause I don't believe I was married then -nor was Jinnie's ,gran'mother-Kerry was her name-{keep yer sun bonnet on, Letty, yer face will be like a yaller 'turmit)-and she could sing like a lark, and Juan was there, too-yer gran'daa, I mane. Aw, he was a pitiful good singer, theer war none like him in the whole parish. The chapel was tip-top full that everin'. ? Singers had come from four or five parishes, and after the chairman hed made his speech, he said, `he would now throw the meeting open to the ladies and gintlemen who had come so kindly to sing carvils' (carols). - them war his words. It was owl Chrissamus Eve.

"For a long time they war slow mighty, no one got up to sing, they were all eyein' each other. It was just like a Quakers' Meeting. We were waitin' and waitin' for some one to begin, but they would'n. At last Kerry nudged me with her elbow and said

"`Let's you and me sing, Margit'and we just begun a little cough to get our throats, ready, when up jumped two young men from the West, at the other end of the chapel, and they sung the owl Manx carvil of `The Bad Women of the Bible.' After that theer was no howlin' them back from singin'. The East sang against the West, and the Andreas Village people against the Lhen people, and it was far past midnight before we got out-but Juan was the best of them all, yer gran'daa, gel, he was the best of them all. Oiel Verries are middling good yit, but nothing like they war in my young days. Yis, I believe it mus' have been in the owl Mud Chapel, because I remimber some young man was howlin' a candle to Juan and another man to show them light to sing, but then it might have been the new chapel for all that, for they always hold candles for light for them, for most of the owl Manx carvils are written, and they can't see them very well. As I was sayin', he was holdin' a light, and he put the candle to his long hair, and set it on fire, but it was'n Juan's hair, although I thought it was, it was the other man, and then he pretinded he couldn't help it, and was in a mighty pisshoo (hurry) to put it out with hishand, but there was no harm done. The people all laughed when they seen theer was no mischief done, and the man who done it lookin' as innocent as a lamb.

" Aw, the people in my young days were middling full of fun."

"I like an Oiel Verry well enough, but an anniversary is far nicer," said Letty. Punctually at four o'clock Margit put her wheel away and made haste to get tea for Juan, who would presently return from "his rounds" selling fish.

A few years ago, Juan came to Mr. Shenvalley. He appeared dejected. "Good morning, Juan," said Mr. Shenvalley.

" Mornin'," said Juan, heaving a heavy sigh. "Margit is dead."

" Dead! " echoed Mr. Shenvalley_ . "Died this morning."

" Dear me, dear me."

"Yis, she's dead, and am come to ask if ye'll put out the hymn at the door, at her funeral. I knew ye would, but I came to ask ye all the same."

"Poor Margit, poor Margit," soliloquised Mr. Shenvalley.

" Aw, she's gone to heaven right enough," said Juan.

"I do not doubt it, Juan."

"Aw yis, Margit is in heaven right enough.- Aw yis, poor Margit is in heaven right enough."

"Yes; poor Margit."

" Aw yis. I prayed with her." "That was well, Juan."

"Aw yis, I did. She wint off like a lamb, and as soon as I seen she was dead I said a long prayer over her and sang a hymn, too. Aw, she's gone to heaven right enough."

Mr. Shenvalley looked at Juan, who was shaking his head and still murmuring, " Aw, gone to heaven right enough. I knew ye'll come to the funeral on Thursday, and give out the hymn at the door."

He was turning away, when a thought seemed to strike him, and with a quick backward step, and in a voice of great mystery and confidence he said

"Was'n she lovely?"

Mr. Shenvalley was so taken aback, he could not speak.

That she was," went on Juan. "Aw, Margit was a regular beauty. There's not many that can beat Margit;"

[Juan said more that was equally characteristic, but it is to be feared that Anglo-Saxons would not understand. Is there not such a thing as racial poetry?-a poetry, alas, that cannot survive the School-Board.-ED.]

The original owner has pencilled in the following key to characters

Mr Shenvally = John Callister Ballaconly
Mr Kaighin Ballachrink, Jurby East
Dan the Master = a cripple that kept a school in Jurby E.