But, alas! these merits of their speech can not be embodied in print without sad trouble, and result (if successful) still more saddening.

Therefore it is proposed to let them speak in our inferior tongue, and to try to make them be not so very long about it.
For when they are left to themselves entirely, they have so much solid matter to express, and they ripen it in their minds and throats with a process so deliberate, that strangers might condemn them briefly, and be off without hearing half of it.

Whenever this happens to a Flamborough man, he finishes what he proposed to say, and then says it all over again to the wind.
When the "lavings" of the village (as the weaker part, unfit for sea, and left behind, were politely called, being very old men, women, and small children), full of conversation, came, upon their way back from the tide, to the gravel brow now bare of boats, they could not help discovering there the poor old woman that fell asleep because she ought to have been in bed, and by her side a little boy, who seemed to have no bed at all.

The child lay above her in a tump of stubbly grass, where Robin Cockscroft had laid him; he had tossed the old sail off, perhaps in a dream, and he threatened to roll down upon the granny.

The contrast between his young, beautiful face, white raiment, and readiness to roll, and the ancient woman's weary age (which it would be ungracious to describe), and scarlet shawl which she could not spare, and satisfaction to lie still--as the best thing left her now to do--this difference between them was enough to take anybody's notice, facing the well-established sun.
"Nanny Pegler, get oop wi' ye!" cried a woman even older, but of tougher constitution.