I have seen the remains of Elizabethan bedsteads under hay-ricks, and untold "old oak" has fed the cottage fire.

I once asked a village maiden why the people made firewood of carved arm-chairs, when painted pinewood, upholstered in American cloth, is, if lovelier, not so lasting.

Her reply was--"They get stalled on[3] 'em." And she added: "Maybe a man 'll look at an old arm-chair that's stood on t' hearth-place as long as he can remember, and he'll say--I'm fair sick o' t' seet o' _yon_.

We mun have a new 'un for t' Feast.

_I'll chop thee oop_!'" [Footnote 3: "Stalled on" = tired of.