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“And Jabez was more honourable than his brethren: and his mother called his name Jabez, because she bare him with sorrow. And Jabez called on the God of Israel, saying, O that thou wouldst bless me indeed, and enlarge my coast, and that thine hand might be with me, and that thou wouldst keep me from evil, that it may not grieve me! And God granted him that which he requested.”12

“Eh, Simon, mon, owd Jotty wur woiser nor thee. Theere’s a neame fur a lad to stand by! It’s as good as a leeapin’-pow’13 that it is, t’ help him ower th’ brucks14 an’ rucks15 o’ th’ warld.”

Simon sat lost in thought. At length he raised his head, and remarked soberly—

“Parson Brookes moight ha’ bin a prophet; th’ choilt’s mother did bear him wi’ sorrow. The neame fits th’ lad as if it had bin meade fur him.”

“Then aw hope he’s a prophet o’ eawt, feyther, an’ o’ th’ rest’ll come true in toime,” briskly interjected Bess; adding—“Coom, tay’s ready;” further appending for the information of their visitors—“Madam Clough sent the tay an’ sugar, an’ th’ big curran’-loaf, when hoo heeard as feyther had axed for a holiday fur the kirsenin’; an’ Mester Clough’s sen some yale ale, an’ a thumpin’ piece o’ beef.”