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He kills everybody he takes a noshun to in kold blud, and then goze to sleep in his tent. Bimeby he wakes up and yells for a hoss so he kan go orf and kill some more peple. If he isent a fit spesserman for the gallers then I shood like to know whare you find um. Thare's Iargo who is more ornery nor pizun.
Mick, who, you must know, had grown a strapping fellow by now, took the tawny-complexioned gentleman's demand very good-humouredly. "All roight, ould Patchwork," he called out, with a laugh. "Thare's a shellin' fur ye, which is more, bedad, than yer howl sthock-in-thrade is worth! Changee fur changee, black dog fur whoite moonkey, sure, as my ould fayther used fur to say!"
I might have knowed it. Somethin' will happen. Somethin's in the air. I don't know what it is, but when that sarpent gits to wark thare's bound to be trouble. God fergive me!" A stiff breeze was swinging through the night as the Vigilance Committee left the saloon and started for the nearest cabin. The stars were hidden, and the weather had moderated, presaging a storm.
This play was jerkt by a admirer of Old Ossywattermy. First akt opens at North Elby, Old Brown's humsted. Thare's a weddin at the house. Amely, Old Brown's darter, marrys sumbody, and thay all whirl in the Messy darnce. Then Ossywattermy and his 3 sons leave fur Kansis. Old Mrs. Ossywattermy tells 'em thay air goin on a long jurny & Blesses 'em to slow fiddlin. Thay go to Kansis.
Having discharged his cargo, Leif invited Thare, with his wife, Gudrid, and three others to make their home with him, and procured quarters for the other members of the crew, both for his own and Thare's men. Leif rescued fifteen men from the skerry. He was from that time forth called Leif the Lucky."
Thare's moore infurmashun to be gut out of a well conductid noospaper price 3 sents than thare is out of ten poplar lectures at 25 or 50 dollers a pop, as the kase may be. These same peple, bare in mind, stick up their nosis at moral wax figgers & sagashus beests. Thay say these things is low.
What sort of sense is thare to King Leer, who goze round cussin his darters, chawin hay and throin straw at folks, and larfin like a silly old koot and makin a ass of hisself ginerally? Thare's Mrs. Mackbeth sheze a nise kind of woomon to have round ain't she, a puttin old Mack, her husband, up to slayin Dunkan with a cheeze knife, while heze payin a frendly visit to their house.
O its hily morral, I spoze, when she larfs wildly and sez, "gin me the daggurs Ile let his bowels out," or wurds to that effeck I say, this is awl, strickly, propper I spoze? That Jack Fawlstarf is likewise a immoral old cuss, take him how ye may, and Hamlick is as crazy as a loon. Thare's Richurd the Three, peple think heze grate things, but I look upon him in the lite of a monkster.
"Thare's too many did dogs an' cats an' other poor bastesesses in it for that, me bhoy; but, faix, ye jist wait till we gits into blue wather an' out av soundin's, it'll be a real trayte for ye to taste it thin."
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