sooart ov a low hoil, mix up wi bad compny,—­first pine, then beg, then stail—­an’ all this becoss they’ve had th’ misfortun to be ragged.  If ther’s one thing moor nor another ’at fowk mak a mistak in, it’s sellin ther old clooas.  Some may say they can’t affoord to give ’em:  Then aw say, wear ’em a bit longer till yo can; ther’ll somdy be thankful for ’em after then.  Ivery body can affoord to be charitable to a certain extent, an’ ther’s noa charity does as mich gooid wi as little cost as givin yor old clooas.  Luk what comfort yo give a chap; then as sooin as he sees his sen luk respectable, he begins to want to be soa, he feels to have moor pluck, he doesn’t hing daan his heead, he’s a better chonce to win a honest livin, an’ yo may safely think yo’ve gien a chap a lift on his way, when yo’ve gien him yor old clooas.

’If the 8th of June is a rainy day, it foretells a wet harvest, so men say,’ but whether it does or it doesn’t aw cannot tell:  if it does we mun mak th’ best on it, that’s all; but we’ve one bit o’ comfort left even then, for its sure to be fair at Halifax o’th’ 24th.  It’s grand to goa to th’ Fair an’ see fowk starin at th’ pictures; an’ its cappin to harken to th’ show fowk shaatin an’ bawlin an’ tellin all sooarts o’ tales to draw th’ brass aght o’ yor pockets.  Then ther’s th’ swingin booats, them’s for cooarters:  they’re a grand institution for young fowk, for if a chap can get his young woman to get in, he’s sure of a chonce to get his arm raand her waist, an’ give her a bit of a squeeze.  Then ther’s th’ flyin’ horses, whear a chap can get made mazy for a penny:  wheniver aw see ’em they allus remind me ov a chap aw knew; he stood abaat six foot two in his stockin feet, an’ weighed abaat six stooan an’ a hauf; an’ one day he’d been poorly a bit, soa he thowt he’d ax a friend ’at had a donkey if he’d lend it him.  ‘Tha can have it an’ welcome,’ th’ chap said, ‘but aw’m feeard thi legs is too long.’  ’Oh ne’er heed that,’ he sed, ’if aw find ’em to trail aw’l hold ’em up.’  Soa he gate it, an as he wor varry leet they went on nicely for a bit, but just as he wor comin on Charlestaan, a chap stopt him to ax him what they called that old church, soa he dropt daan his feet on to’th floor and began to explain an’ as sooin as he’d done that, th’ donkey walked away leavin him thear striddlin like a clooas peg.  As sooin as he’d finished he sed ‘gie up!’ an he thowt o’ sittin daan; an’ he did, but it wor soa mich lower daan wol he thowt his back wor brokken; when he luk’d raand he saw Neddy trottin up th’ Haley Hill.  ‘Tha’s tow’t me a lesson,’ he sed, ‘an’ for th’ futur, as long as iver aw can do for misen, aw’l niver seek onybody’s ass istance.