e hurried for nowt. It wor allus sed 'at he wor
born to th' tune o'th' Deead March, an suckled wi' Slowman's Soothin
Syrup. His mother declared a better child nivver lived, for he hardly
ivver cried, net even for his sops, for if he showed signs o' startin,
ther wor allus time enuff to get' em made befoor he'd getten fairly off.
He began cuttin his teeth when he wor six months old, an' he'd nobbut
getten two when his birthday coom, an' when th' old wimmen used to rub
his gums wi ther fingers he used to oppen his een an' stare at 'em as if
he wondered what they wor i' sich a hurry for. His mother wor forty-five
year old when he wor born, an' shoo anlls sed he wor born sadly too lat,
an' if that's th' case ther's noa wonder 'at he's allus behund hand, for
ther's nowt can ivver mak him hurry to mak up for lost time.

They sent him to a schooil an' paid tuppince a wick for him, but they
mud as weel ha saved ther brass, for if they managed to get him to start
i' time, he just contrived to get thear when it wor lowsin. He nivver
leearned owt but he sed he meant to do sometime, but ther wor time enuff
yet: soa he grew up to be a big ovvergrown ignoramus, an' his mother
could'nt tell what to do wi him. Shoo put him 'prentice to a cobbler,
but his maister sent him hooam when he'd been thear a month, for he sed
he'd been tryin to spetch a pair o' child's clogs ivver sin he went, an'
'at th' rate he wor gettin on wi 'em he'd have' em thrown on his hands,
for th' child ud be grown up befoor they wor finished.

"What am aw to do wi' thi," sed his mother, "aw can't afford to keep thi
to laik?"

"Wait a bit," he said, "'an give a chap a chonce. Yor i' sich a hurry
abaat iverything. Rome worn't built in a day."

"Noa, an' if it had depended o' sich as thee it nivver wod ha been
built, awm thinkin!"

One day, as he wor sittin on a stoop at th' loin end, a chap com ridin
up to him, an' ax'd him if he'd hold his horse for him a minit or two.
"Eea," he said, "tak for time a bit an awl hold it."

It tuk him some time to sydle up an tak hold o'th' reins, an then th'
chap left him, tellin him whativver else to stand thear an' net run away
wi' it.

"Awst nooan run far," he sed, an' in abaat ten minits he laft all over
his face at th' idea o' sich a thing. It wor a varry quiet horse, an'
Joa thowt 'at he'd getten th' reight seoart ov a job at last, an' When
th' chap coom back he gave him a shillin. If he'd been slow i' other
things, he