Aw've heeard fowk wish for things to keep just as they are, they say
they dooant want owt new. What a mistak' they mak! They're wishin'
for what ud be th' mooast of a novelty. Things willn't stop as they
are, an' it wodn't be reight if they did. It's all weel enuff for
them at's feathered ther nest to feel moderate contented, but them
at's sufferin' for want ov a meal's mait are all hopin' for a change
for th' better. Owd hats an' owd slippers are generally more
comfortable nor new ens, an' fowk "wish they'd niver be done,"--"they
hate owt new"--as if it wodn't be summat new if they could wear 'em
withaat 'em bein' done. Young fowk are allus moor anxious for changes
nor owd fowk, its likely enuff; like a child wi' a pictur book, watch
him turn ovver two or three leaves at th' beginnin', see ha delighted
he is; but in a while he turns ovver moor carelessly, an' befoor he
gets to th' end he leaves it, wearied with its variety, or falls hard
asleep opposite one at wod have fascinated him when he began. Life's
nobbut a pictur' book ov another sooart, at th' beginnin' we're
delighted wi' ivery fresh leeaf, an' we keep turnin' ovver till at
last we get wearied, an' had rayther sit quietly looking at one. But
we cannot stop, we ha' to goo throo th' book whether we like it or
net, until at last we shut us een an' fall asleep over summat new.


Valentine Day

Ha monny young folk are langin for th' fourteenth o' February! An ha
mony old pooastmen wish it ud niver come? Sawr owd maids an' crusty
owd bachelors wonder 'at fowk should have noa moor sense nor to waste
ther brass on sich like nonsense. But it's noa use them talkin', for
young fowk have done it befoor time, an' as long as it's i'th' natur