h; if yo happen to have a clean hankerchy i' yor
pocket, yo may tak it aght and mak believe to wipe off a tear--niver
heed if ther isn't one, fowk'll think better o' yo, an' all the war o'
him. If onybody should come an' ask yo if yo've heeard that sad tale
abaat him, say. 'God forbid at yo should hear owt war nor what yo've
heeard before.' Dooant seem inclined to listen, but when they've done,
say, 'Well, well it's a thaasand pities, but if that wor th' warst it
wodn't matter mich.' He's sure to go away wi' th' noation 'at yo know
summot abaat th' same chap 'at's ten times war nor owt he's heeard, but
yo've too mich gooid natur to tell it. Nah this is all varry gooid fun
for' number one;' an when yo see poor' number two' loise his shop, or
shunned, or luked shyly at wi' them at wor once his admirers, an' yo
know 'at it's allowing to yo, then yo can goa hooam an' shut yorsen up
all bi yorsen, an' laff, an rejoice to yor heart's content. But dooant
be surprised if, when yo chuckle, yo should hear another chuckle cloise
to yor elbow, for haiver yo lock an' bolt th' door, yo connot keep th'
devil aght. He enjoys a bit o' fun o' this sooart as weel as yo, an'
he's nobbut come to show yo ha pleased he is. If yo dooant like his
compny sarve him th' same way --remember yo're 'number one,' an he's
nobbut 'number two' to yo. Pool as long a face, an' luk as sanctimonious
as yo can, an' wheniver yo've a chonce, tell fowk to shun him an' all
his works, tell 'em 'at he's prowlin raand like a lion seekin who to
make a meal on th' next. Yo needn't be mailly-maathed abaat him, becoss
he's net suppooased to have ony friends. He willn't care a button what
yo say, 'coss he knows yo cannot injure _his_ character, an' he laffs to
hissen as he sees yo sighin, an lyin, an scheamin, all for 'number one,'
an he puts a mark opposite yor name to show 'at he's noa need to luk
after yo ony moor--yo're all safe--an' then he turns his attention to
some 'number twos.' It's gooid spooart, isn't it? May be yo think it's a
spooart 'at's niver entered onybody's heead but mine, but yor mistakken.
It's a varry common spoart. Mind yo dooant catch yorsen indulging in it
some day.

Number three reminds a body ov a deeal o' things, but nowt as mitch as a
pop shop. Them three gold balls 'at hing aght to show whear th' poor
fowk's bankers live, if they could nobbot spaik, could tell a tale 'at
wod cap some o' them wiseacres 'at reckon to know all poor fowk's
trou