ha’ seen th’ weddin’ far enough; aw did think ’at a chap wad be able to get a neet’s rest anyway.”  “Tha can goa back to thi mother,” shoo sed, “an’ stop wi’ her for owt aw care, an’ aw wish tha’d niver left her, for aw’st get mi deeath o’ cold wi’ paddlin’ abaat wi’ nowt on; but does ta think tha’s catched ’em all?” “Aw think soa, an’ if tha’s a mind we’ll get to bed agean.”  “Nay, tha can goa to thi mother as tha freats soa,” shoo sed.  “Tak noa noatice o’ what aw sed,” sed Sammy, “tha knows aw wor put abaat a bit, an’ it war all for th’ sake o’ thee.”  “Tha’ll tell me owt,” shoo sed, “put th’ leet aat, an’ let’s see if we con get a bit o’ gradely sleep.”  They gate into bed once more, an’ shoo wor off to sleep in a minit, but Sammy wor rubbin’ an’ scrattin’ hissen.  “Wen, aw’ve heeard tell abaat things bein’ ball proof and bomb proof, but aw niver knew ’at anybody wor bug proof befoor.”  Wi’ him knockin’ abaat soa mich shoo wakken’d agean.  “Nay, Sammy,” shoo sed, “aw’m reight fair stawld, it’s all consait, aw’m sure it is.”  “Consait be hanged!” he bawled aat, “just feel at that blister an’ then tell me if it’s all consait.”  Nowt could keep awther on ’em ‘i bed after that, an’ they paraded abaat all th’ neet like two gooasts, wait in’ for th’ cock crow.  Mornin’ did come at last, an’ Sammy worn’t long befoor’ he had th’ bed aatside.  “What are ta baan to do wi’ it nah?” ax’d his wife.  “Aw’m baan to leave it wheal’ it is wol neet,” he sed, “an’ if they havn’t forgetten which road they coom, aw think ther’s as monny as’ll be able to tak it back to Halifax.”  Next neet they made a bed o’th’ floor, an’ slept like tops, an’ next mornin’ when they gate up, th’ bed wor off.  Whether th’ cumpny ’at wor in it had taen it or net, Sammy couldn’t tell, but he niver went to seek it.  Fowk ’at buy second-hand beds, tak warnin.”

Persevere.

If you fail don’t be downhearted,
   Better times come by-and-by;
Soon you’ll find all fears departed,
   If you’ll only boldly try. 
He who would climb up a mountain,
   Must not sit him down and cry;
At the top you’ll find the fountain,
   And you’ll reach it if you’ll try.

Though your comrades call it folly,
   Persevere, you’ll win the day;
Never let Dick, Tom, or Polly,
   Stop you on your onward way,
There is always joy in striving,
   Though you fix your goal so high;
Nearer every day arriving,
   You may reach it if you try.

Booith-Taan Election.

This place ’is nearly a mile from the good old town of Halifax.

Aa! ther wor a flare-up at Booith-Taan Hall that neet!  It had been gein aat ‘at they’d to be a meetin’ held to elect a new Lord-Mayor, for New-Taan, Booith-Taan, an’ th’ Haley Hill, on which particular occashun, ale ud be supplied at Tuppence a pint upstairs.  Ther wor a rare muster an’ a gooid deeal o’ argyfyin’ tuk place abaat who shud be th’ chearman.  But