They sent him to a schooil an’ paid tuppince a wick for him, but they mud as weel ha saved ther brass, for if they managed to get him to start i’ time, he just contrived to get thear when it wor lowsin.  He nivver leearned owt but he sed he meant to do sometime, but ther wor time enuff yet:  soa he grew up to be a big ovvergrown ignoramus, an’ his mother could’nt tell what to do wi him.  Shoo put him ’prentice to a cobbler, but his maister sent him hooam when he’d been thear a month, for he sed he’d been tryin to spetch a pair o’ child’s clogs ivver sin he went, an’ ‘at th’ rate he wor gettin on wi ’em he’d have’ em thrown on his hands, for th’ child ud be grown up befoor they wor finished.

“What am aw to do wi’ thi,” sed his mother, “aw can’t afford to keep thi to laik?”

“Wait a bit,” he said, “‘an give a chap a chonce.  Yor i’ sich a hurry abaat iverything.  Rome worn’t built in a day.”

“Noa, an’ if it had depended o’ sich as thee it nivver wod ha been built, awm thinkin!”

One day, as he wor sittin on a stoop at th’ loin end, a chap com ridin up to him, an’ ax’d him if he’d hold his horse for him a minit or two.  “Eea,” he said, “tak for time a bit an awl hold it.”

It tuk him some time to sydle up an tak hold o’th’ reins, an then th’ chap left him, tellin him whativver else to stand thear an’ net run away wi’ it.

“Awst nooan run far,” he sed, an’ in abaat ten minits he laft all over his face at th’ idea o’ sich a thing.  It wor a varry quiet horse, an’ Joa thowt ‘at he’d getten th’ reight seoart ov a job at last, an’ When th’ chap coom back he gave him a shillin.  If he’d been slow i’ other things, he had’nt been vany slow i’ leearnin th’ vally o’ brass, an’ as it wor th’ furst time he’d ivver had a shillin he wor soa excited ’at he started off hooam at a jog trot, an’ th’ fowk ’at knew him wor soa capt wol they could’nt tell what to mak on it, but they thowt he must be havin’ a race wi’ some sooapsuds at wor runnin daan th’ gutter; but that wornt it, for he’d getten a noashun at noa trade ud suit him as weel as fishin, for he could tak his own time wi’ that, an’ he felt sewer he’d be lucky, for if they wor’nt inclined to nibble he’d caar thear wol they’d be glad to bite to get shut on him; an’ he’d seen a fishin rod to sell for a shillin, soa he thowt he’d goa hooam an’ as sooin as he’d getten his dinner he’d buy it.

When he gate in, his mother said, “Whear’s ta been, an’ whativer is ther to do ‘at maks thi come in puffin an’ blowin like that?”

“Aw’ve been to th’ end o’th’ loin,” he sed, “an’ wol aw wor thear a chap coom an’ ax’d me to hold his horse for him, an’ he’s glen me a shillin.”

“Well, tha’s been sharp for once, an’ awm fain to see it, for its a comfort to know at owt can stir thi.  Gie me’ that shillin, its just come i’ time, for aw wor at my wits end what to do for a bit o’ dinner, an’ that’ll just come in to get a bit o’ summat.”