but aw say agean ’at noa chap gets his livin’ honestly ’at stails—­noa matter whether he stails pots or parkins.”  “Why, Nancy, aw thowt tha’d moor sense, aw did for sure;—­ aw mean, his trade is to put stails on to pots.”  “Oh!  A’a!  E’e! tha mun forgi’ mi this time, Betty, aw see what tha meeans; he puts hanels on to pots:  that’s it, isn’t it.”  “E’ea.”  “Why, tha sees, aw didn’t understond.”  “Ther’s monny a one has a deeal to say abaat things ’at they dunnot understond, an’ monny a one gets awfully put aat wi’ what sich like do say; but it isn’t advisable to be soa varry touchus at this day, an’ as aw’ve read somwhear—­

   Time to me this truth has towt,
      ’Tis a truth ‘at’s worth revealin’;
   Moor offend for want o’ thowt
      Nor for any want o’ feelin’.

An’ aw believe that’s true; but at th’ same time it’s as weel to be careful net to offend onybody if we con help it, for a chap’s fingers luk a deeal nicer, an’ moor agreeabler, when they’re oppened aat to shake hands wi yo, nor what they do when doubled up i’th’ front o’ yor nooas.  Soa yo see, yo connot be to careful o’ yor words an’ deeds, if yo want to keep straight wi’ fowk; an’ it’s a wise thing to be at peeace.  And if this is a unsettled time o’ th’ year, that’s noa reason ’at yo should be unsettled.  But as it isn’t iverybody’s lot to know ha to get on smoothly, aw’ll just give yo a bit o’ advice; an’ if yo learn that, an’ act on it, yo’ll niver rue th’ brass yo’ve spent, especially if yo tak into consideration at th’ profits are devoted to a charitable institution (that’s awr haase).

   If wisdom’s ways you’d wisely seek,
      Five things observe with care;
   Of whom you speak, to whom you speak,
      And how, and when, and where.

Seaside.

Iverybody ‘at is owt is awther just settin’ off or just gettin’ back throo th’ spaws.  Ther’s nowt like th’ sea breeze!  But a chum o’ mine says th’ sea breeze is a fooil to Saltaire, but he cannot mak me believe it.  Ther’s nowt ever suits me as weel at Blackpool as to see a lot o’ cheap trippers ’at’s just com’d for a day—­they mean to enjoy thersen.  Yo can see that as sooin as iver th’ train claps ’em daan, away they steer to have a luk at th’ watter.  Ther’s th’ fayther comes th’ furst, wi’ th’ youngest child in his arms, an’ one or two rayther bigger poolin’ ‘at his coit laps, an’ just behund is his owd lass, puffin’ and blowin’ like a steam engine, her face as red as a rising sun, an’ a basket ov her arm big enuff for a oyster hawker.  At one corner on it yo con see a black bottle neck peepin’ aat.  At th’ side on her walks th’ owdest lass; an’ isn’t shoo doin’ it grand for owt shoo knows!  Luk what fine ribbons shoo has flyin’ daan her back, an’ a brass ring ov her finger, varry near big enuff to mak a dog’s collar on, an’ a cotton parasol ’at luks ivery bit as weel as a silk ’un; and yo con see as shoo tosses her heead first to one side an then