"Yes, very awkward for the man." "Ay, and he's very timid, too," observed Jan Coggan.

"Once he had been working late at Yalbury Bottom, and had had a drap of drink, and lost his way as he was coming home-along through Yalbury Wood, didn't ye, Master Poorgrass ?" "No, no, no; not that story!" expostulated the modest man, forcing a laugh to bury his concern.
"-- And so 'a lost himself quite," continued Mr.Coggan, with an impassive face, implying that a true narrative, like time and tide, must run its course and would respect no man.

"And as he was coming along in the middle of the night, much afeared, and not able to find his way out of the trees nohow, 'a cried out, 'Man-a-lost! man-a-lost!' A owl in a tree happened to be crying 'Whoo-whoo-whoo!' as owls do, you know, shepherd" (Gabriel nodded), "and Joseph, all in a tremble, said, 'Joseph Poorgrass, of Weatherbury, sir!'" "No, no, now--that's too much!" said the timid man, becoming a man of brazen courage all of a sudden.

"I didn't say SIR.

I'll take my oath I didn't say 'Joseph Poorgrass o' Weatherbury, sir.' No, no; what's right is right, and I never said sir to the bird, knowing very well that no man of a gentleman's rank would be hollering there at that time o' night.