to hing o’ mi rig, an’ mi britches are soa full o’ hoils wol awm feeared sometimes when awm puttin em on, at awst tummel throo an braik my neck.”  “Well, reight enuff, a woife’s varry useful at times,” shoo sed, “but as tha hasn’t one if tha’ll learn mi thi jacket, aw’ll see if it cannot be mended far thi a bit.”  “Aw allus thowt tha war a gooid sooart, Jenny, an’ awl tak thi at thi word,” he sed:  so he pool’d off his coit an gave it her an’ it were arranged ’at he should call for it next neet.  You may bet yor life he didn’t forget, an when he saw it mended up, an’ brushed wol it luk’d ommost as gooid as new, he luk’d first at it an then at her, an at last he sed, “Aw think we should be able to get on varry weel together, what says ta?” Aw dooant know what shoo sed, but it wornt long befoor they wor wed, for Sammy thowt shoo’d be worth her mait if it wor nobbut for mendin up his old duds.  They hadn’t been wed long, when he axed her to mend his britches.—­ “A’a,” shoo sed, “Aw cannot mend em, aw niver could sew i’ mi life!” “Why that is a tale,” he sed, “tha mended mi jacket all reight!” “Nay, indeed aw nawther!—­Aw mended nooon on it!  Aw sent it to th’ tailor an paid for it doin.”  “Then awm dropt on,” sed Sammy, “for aw expected tha’d be able to do all sich like wark.”  “Tha should niver expect owt an’ then tha willnt get dropt on,” shoo sed.—­“That, wor a bit o’ varry gooid advice.

Work Away.

Bonny lads, and bonny lasses! 
  Work away! work away! 
Think how swift each moment passes,
  Time does never stay. 
Then let’s up and to our labours,
  They who will, must sure succeed,
He does best who best endeavours,—­
  Try again shall be our creed.

New Machinery &c.

It shows varry little sense for fowk to object to a new machine till they’ve tried it, or to fancy it’ll be th’ means o’ smashin th’ trade.  Luk at th’ paaer looms; when they I wor started all th’ hand-loom weyvers struck wark, becoss they said it ud do ’em all up, an’ ther’d be noa wark at all for weyvers in a bit; but it hasn’t turn’d aat soa, for ther’s moor weyvers i’th’ country to-day, nor iver ther wor; and they addle moor brass, an’ awm sure they’ve easier wark.  For if this country doesn’t get new machines, other countries will, an’ when we’re left behund hand an’ connot meet ’em i’th’ market, we’st be a deeal war off nor ony new invention can mak us.  All at’s been done soa far has helped to mak us better off.  They connot mak a machine to think, they’re forced to stop thear; an’ aw dooant daat if we’d to live long enuff, ther’d be a time when chaps ud ha nowt to do but think-but it’s to be hoaped ‘at they’d have summat else to think abaat nor rattenin’, or shooitin’, or ruinin’ fowk.  Aw’ve tawk’d to some abaat it, an’ they say they’re foorced to do sum way to keep wages up, but if aw can tell em ha to mak brass goa farther, they’ll be content to give up th’ Union.  But aw think it goas far enuff—­what they