He lay there for a week, indignant with Providence for thus wasting his time.
"There bain't nart the matter wi' I! Then why be I a-farced to lie thic way ?" he said faintly.

"If zo be I wor bod, I cude understand, but I bain't bod.

There bain't no pain tu speak on no-wheres.

It vair beats my yunderstanding." "Tis old age be the matter wi' yu, vather," said his mate, a young fellow of sixty or so, who lodged with him.
"I bain't nigh so yold as zum," said Happy Jack, peevishly.

"Tis a nice way vor a man tu be tuke, wi'out a thing the matter wi' un, vor the doctor tu lay yold on." Dr.Blundell soothed him by giving his illness a name.
"It's Anno Domini, Jack." "What be that?
I niver yeard till on't befar," he said suspiciously.
"It's incurable, Jack," said the doctor, gravely.
Happy Jack was consoled.