Nah number one is onybody an' iverybody; for we're all number one to ussen. Ther's an old sayin, an' it must be true, for ommost iverybody seems to believe it, 'at we should all remember number one—that is, it's set daan to be iverybody's duty to do th' best they can for thersen, an' it's becoss this doctrine is soa well acted up to, 'at maks me think 'at ther may be a bit ov amusement an' profit i' studying abaat it at this time—yo can tak th' amusement an' let me have th' profit. Nah, if you act up to my advice, aw think yo may be happen better nor yo are, an' if yo dooant aw dooant think yo'l be ony war, an' that's one comfort. Ther's nowt like startin at th' faandation ov a subject, if yo want to deal wi' it in a reight way, an' aw intend to goa to th' rooit, an' as money is th' rooit ov all evil, an' th' number one doctrine is i' my opinion an evil, aw shall start wi' brass. We mun awther believe money to be th' rooit ov all evil, or else we daat th' wisdom o' him at sed it, but at th' same time my experience taiches me at it's a varry useful thing to have i' yor pocket when yo goa to market, an' it's a wonderful thing for stiffenin a chap's back booan. Allus remember this, at th' heigher yo hold yor heead an' lower other fowk 'll bow theirs. Ther are exceptions to this rule, for ther are 'at think a honest man has as mich reight to hold up his heead, even if he hasn't a penny in his pocket, as one 'at's thaasands o' paands. Ov coorse, yo know better nor that; for a empty heead an' a full purse can pass muster even i'th' Parliament. Then, whativer yo do, yo mun get hold o' this brass, an' niver heed, if becoss your gettin moor nor yo want causes some others to goa short—that's nowt to yo—yor number one an' luk to that. If yo can nobbut get a fortune, yo'll find friends come withaat seekin. But mind whativer yo do to get yor brass honestly-that is, get it i' some way 'at th' law cannot touch yo. Dooant knock a chap daan an' tak it throo him, but start some sooart ov a society wi' a long name, get some offices in a garret in a grand street, get some chap wi' a hannel to his name to be president, an' a lot o' directors 'at nawther yo nor onybody else iver knew, pay a poor begger fourteen shillin a week to be scratchetary, mak yorsen into th' treasurer, an' then advertise. Somdy'll be sure to tak shares, an' as sooin as ther's ony brass to goa on wi,' vooat yor sen a salary ov two thaasand a year,—mak sure to get it—an' then, if ther's ony claims at yo connot meet wind up th' business. Fowk'll be sure to sympathise wi' yo, and yo'll have as mich as 'll keep yo respectable for a bit, an' then yo can luk aght for another chonce o' turnin a honest penny. Yor belly'll be full an' your back weel clooathed, your conscience—well, tak noa noatice o' that,—an' if yo can get a front seeat in a chapel yo'll stand a gooid chonce o' been made a taan caancillor or a member o'th schooil booard. This number one doctrine has another advantage, a chap 'at follows it aght has nubdy's else interests to bother abaat; he doesn't care who dees soa long as he lives, nor who sinks soa long as he can swim. But allus tak care net to let other fowk know 'at yo live up to this system; for although iverybody thinks a gooid deeal o' ther own number one, nubdy seems fond ov another's. Some even goa soa far as to call a number one chap selfish. Well, worn't we born into th' world to be selfish? What have we nails for if we munnot scrat? What have we teeth for but to bite? What have we een for but to look after awr own interests? What have we ears for but to listen for iverything to us own advantage? What have we bodies for but to serve? This is number one doctrine. Its varry popular, an' does varry weel for this world; ther's a deal o' hansom gravestooans stand ovver once successful number ones. What ther number is i'th' next world is moor nor aw can tell, but aw know they'll have to start afresh, for all they iver gained they've left behund.

Fowk 'at niver loise seet o' 'number one,' are a hard workin set as a rule, but even they have to amuse thersen a bit sometimes, an' they find it a nice change to luk after 'number two.' To a chap o' this sooart, iverybody's 'number two,' 'at's a bit better awther i' luks, position, or pocket. Nah if yo want ony fun o' this sooart aw'll tell yo ha to get it. Furst ov all, find aght sombdy 'at yo fancy yore mates think moor on nor they think o' yo—watch him ivery time yo get a chonce, an' see if yo connot pick aght a hoil in his coit. Dooant be disheartened if yo have to luk a long time before yo can find a fault—be sure ther is one somewhear, an' if yo can't see it at a distance, hutch cloiser up, mak a gurt fuss on him, niver say owt contrary to what he says; if he says summat funny, laff fit to split yor sides, an' if he says owt serious, luk solemn an' shak yor heead. Watch him carefully, an' it's a thaasand to one but some day yo'll catch him trippin. If, when yo've fun a hoil, it's soa little as to be hardly worth noaticing, dooant despair, wol yor clappin him on his back an' smilin in his face, yo can happen get yor finger in, an then rive it a bit bigger. Do it gently at furst, just a little bit at a time, and then when yo've getten a chonce, rip it as far as yo can. But be sure yo have nowt ony moor to do with him after that. If yo see him comin, cross on t'other side o' th' rooad, niver let on 'at yo've seen him, but as sooin as he's getten past, shak yor heead sorrowfully an' sigh; 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 troubles, an' th' way to cure' em. Nah, it's a puzzle to me to accaant for one o' these things, an' that is, 'at fowk's actions should be regarded through a different standpoint to owt else i' th' world. A little tree is a tree, an' it's nobbut a tree ha big it is—a puttate is nobbut a puttate if it grows as big as a churn-an' a man considers hissen a man whether he's a Goliah or a Tom Thumb. But actions are different altogether. Whether they're to be considered gooid or bad depends entirely o' th' bugth on 'em. A chap 'at can chait somdy aght ov twenty thaasand paands is considered smart: but a poor begger 'at stails a looaf is a thief. A chap 'at walks into th' joint stock bank, an'. leaves th' title deeds ov his property for th' loan ov five or six hundred paands, is an honerable tradesman, 'an it's considered a business—like act; but a poor woman' at taks her fiat-iron to th' pop shop, an' borrows sixpence on it, commits a sin—it's a disgrace. Aw wonder what th' mooast o' th' banks are but pop shops. What difference is ther between a pop ticket an' a check book? Varry little nobbut th' bugth. I' my opinion it's noa moor a disgrace for a chap to pop a paper coller nor for another to morgage a property. Ther's a gooid deal o' speculation sometimes i' booath cases. Nah, aw once knew a chap at popt a haufacraan for two-an-four-pence, an then sell'd th' ticket for a shillin: soa he didn't loise owt. They're useful places i' ther way, though aw dooant mean to say at ther's noa evils connected wi' 'em. Nah, aw once knew a woman 'at popt her husband's Sunday clooas so as shoo could buy a new dress for hersen, 'an when he fan it aght he gave her a lickin an' had to goa befoor th' magistrates, an' they fined him ten shillin or to goa to quad for a month, soa his wife popt her dress to' pay th' fine. Nah, it isn't ivery evil 'at can reighten itsen like that; an' varry likely bith time they've getten 'em aght agean they'll have lernt moor wit.

Ther's summat else 'at number three reminds me on, an' that's th' three things at we all owt to have—Faith, Hope, an' Charity. As to Faith, ther's awther a gooid deeal on it i' th' world, or else fowk dooant spaik truth. Hope we've all enuff on, an' some fowk moor nor what does' em ony gooid, for they're ofter hopin nor strivin. But when it comes to Charity, then aw'm a sooart o' fast amang it. It's a nice word, a bonny word aw think; it luks nice in a church or a bazaar. It's a nice word to tak for a text, it saands nice onytime unless it's at a meetin o' th' poor law guardians, then it saands harder an' harsher someway. For mi own part, aw've niver been able to understand exactly what it meeans. I have an opinion o' mi own; but then aw know it must be wrong, becoss it's so different to other fowk's. Aw wor once walkin aght wi' a chap 'at wor chock full o' charity. He wor soa full on it 'at it used to roll aght ov his maath ivery two or three minutes, and we hadn't gone far when we met a little lad, wi' hardly a bit o' clooas on him, an' he luk'd as if he'd been livin o' th' smell ov a cook shop for a wick, an' he coom beggin a hawpney. Well, to tell th' truth aw wor gooin to pass him, for aw hadn't a fardin, but my charitable friend did stop, an' he patted him on his heead, and axed if he he'd a father an' mother, an' if he went to th' Sunday schooil, an if he knew his Catichism, an' then he sed, Well, be a good boy, an' sometime when aw've a hawpny aw'l give it thi,' an' we went away. When we'd gooan a two or three yards he sed, 'Let's have a glass o' ale, for aw'm dry—aw feel sooary for yond lad, but yo connot allus be givin.