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Updated: May 11, 2025
There's an old hymn Mother's dredful fond of, I don't remember how it goes now, but there's one line she keeps repeatin' over an' over till I feel ready to jump. It's this, 'What dyin' wurms we be. So, when she begun her wurm song that mornin' I just let fly. 'Ef I am a wurm, sez I, 'I ain't goin' ter be allers lookin' to see myself squirm! and with that I up and out of the house.
Don't be a lunatic, Morris, you don't seem to understand my dredful situation. I have to get the stamp on tick. A fact. Ever your affte. Brother, 'Can't even spell! Morris reflected, as he crammed the letter in his pocket, and left the house. 'What can I do for him? I have to go to the expense of a barber, I'm so shattered! How can I send anybody coins?
Mar. 10. plesent day. old Si Smiths big white dog and a bull dog had an awful fite today. neether licked and they had to squert water on them to seperate them. they dident make no noise, only jest hung write on to each others gozzles. my aunt Sarah said it was dredful, and she staid to the window to see how dredful it was. Mar. 11, 186- Went to church in the morning. the fernace was all write.
"Well," she continued, "I must be goin'. I did think I'd be forehanded in callin', but mother's been dredful wakeful lately, and when daylight comes, it don't seem as if I had the ambition of a snail. She don't like to be left alone for a minit, mother don't, so it's a bit of a puzzle to keep up with society." She laughed cheerily as she held out her hand.
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