yo?” An’ shoo’ll show him th’ direction, an’ ax him if he knows who’s writing that is?  An’ he’ll luk at it as sackless as if he didn’t know it wor his own—­ ther heeads get cloise together, an’ shoo sighs an’ he sighs, an’ then, if ther’s noabody abaat he’ll give hur a smack with his lips an’ lawp back as if he’d burned th’ skin off ’em, an’ shooo axes him ha he con fashion to goa on like that, he owt to be ashamed ov his face?  An’ all th’ time shoo’s wonderin’ why he niver did it afoor.  Then, if ther’s owt abaat him, it isn’t long befoor ther’s a weddin’, an’ then he’s begun life.  He’s settled into his nook i’th’ world, an’ he feels he’s a man.  Troubles come, but then ther’s a pleasure i’ bein able to maister ’em.  He’s summat to wark for besides his own belly an’ back.  He’s a heart-expandin’ responsibility put on him.  His country benefits by him, for a man does moor for his country ’at leaves ten weel-trained sons an’ dowters nor him ’at leaves ten thaasand paand.  Then if sich a little simple thing as a valentine can help a chap on his rooad in lite, aw say.

Be hanged to th’ Grumblers, goa a head Valentine Makkers!!!

March Winds

These winds blow rayther strong—­stronger sometimes nor what feels pleasant.  Ther’s monny a chap has a race wi’ his hat, an’ it luks a sheepish sooart ov a trick, an’ iverybody can affooard to laff at him just becoss it isn’t them.  But for all that aw alus think at th’ year’s niver getten a reight start till after March.  It’s like as if it comes blusterin’ an’ rooarin’, just o’ purpose to put things into reight trim.  It fotches daan th’ owd watter spaats, an’ lets fowk know whear ther’s a slate at’s shakey.  It gives th’ trees a bit ov a whisk raand an’ wuthers abaat as if it wor detarmined to clear all th’ maase nooks aat, an’ give us a fair start for th’ fine weather.  But that isn’t all it does; it finds aat if yo’ve ony owd teeth ’at’s rayther tender, (an’ if ther’s owt i’th’ world at ’ll wear aat a chap’s patience its th’ tooith wark.  Its bad enuff, but what maks it war to bide is, iverybody can tell yo ha to cure it, an’ for all that they wor as fast what to do wi’ it when they had it as onybody else.) But what does it matter if it does find aat bits o’ waik spots, there’s nowt like knowin whear they are, for then yo do stand a chonce o’ bein’ able to tak care on ’em.  But it does summat else beside—­it brings a fine day or two—­an’ th’ grass begins to luk a trifle greener, an’ here an’ thear i’ bits o’ shady nooks an’ corners sometimes yo can find a daisy or two; an’ what is ther luks bonnier nor th’ first daisy yo find peepin up?  It may be a bit ov a pindered lookin thing, but its a daisy; an’ aw dooant think at th’ grandest yo’ll find all th’ year ’ll please yo hauf as weel as this.  Little children clap ther hands when they see it, becoss it tells ’em ther’s some fine weather comin’ bye an’ bye; an’ they pluck