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'Ye'd have th' wurred on th' coffin lid, says I. 'Why, says he, 'think iv me, Schmitt, Owgoost Schmitt, stalkin' forth to avinge th' woes iv th' poor, he says. 'Loodwig, th' cursed, goes by. I jumps fr'm behind a three an' society is freed fr'm th' monsther, he says. 'Think iv th' glory iv it, he says. 'Owgoost Schmitt, emancipator, he says. 'I'll prove to Mary Ann that I'm a man, he says.
'Bad luck' I answered. 'Only ten dollars in my pocket and nothing to do. He swung his stick thoughtfully. 'If I was you, said he, 'I'd take anything honest. Upon me wurred, I'd ruther pound rocks than lay idle. 'So would I. 'Wud ye? said he with animation, as he took my measure from head to foot. 'I'll do anything that's honest. 'Ah ha! said he, rubbing his sandy chin whiskers.
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