Though it's so long ago, and the interval packed so full of all kinds of memories and incidents and experiences, I can see myself, juast as if it was yesterday, coming home from my work; washing the stains of my day's labour off my face and hands; swallowing my supper — my books on the table before me all the time — and setting out for the class, not, however, without receiving a bit of good-natured taunt from the old woman, who won'ers what hobby I'll strideleg next, an' ride tae the deevil.

The ſkye it ſeemes vvould povvre dovvn ſtinking pitch, / But that the Sea, mounting to th' vvelkins cheeke, / Daſhes the fire out.

She wasn't necessarily interested in looking for a pick-up, although she probably wouldn't say no to the right offer.

wear on, wear away.  As the years wore on, we seemed to have less and less in common.