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"'Can't you pray, Mr. Piper? I begs him. 'You're a good un at that. Ave a go at em, I says. 'Maybe they'd listen to you. Sure-ly they can't set by and see a genelman like that chaw'd up in cold blood. "He didn't answer. But I could see his head pitch forward a bit. And I hears a kind of a mutter. "Then he stops, and I could see he were listenin, "'Go it, Mr. Piper, I says. 'Go it. Pitch it in.
I have heard that many anecdotes of this nature have been collected and printed in a book, which I have not yet seen; but as the facts which I have recorded relate to a badger, they appear to me to be passing strange. "I 'clar' ter gracious, honey," Uncle Remus exclaimed one night, as the little boy ran in, "you sholy ain't chaw'd yo' vittles.
"Go," he sed "go, my son, and hog the public!" He put his withered han' tremblinly onto my hed, and went sadly into the house. I thought I saw tears tricklin down his venerable chin, but it might hav been tobacker jooce. He chaw'd. The "Atlantic Monthly," Betsy, is a reg'lar visitor to our westun home. I like it because it has got sense.
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