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An' he keeps comin' when I calls, too, or I'd shore burn the ground 'round him to a cinder. I'd be a disgrace to old Tennessee to let my boy Tom go preescribin' what I'm to call him. But they be cur'ous folks! The last time this hirelin' changes his name, I asks the reason. "'Tom, I says, 'this yere is the 'leventh time you cinches on a new name.
"'Sufferin' cats! says I. 'Then is every play I make henceforth and forever, amen to be gaumed up by a mess of hirelin' bandogs? Persecutin' Stan was all very well but if they take to molesting me any, it's going to make my blood fairly boil! Is some one going to draw down wages for makin' me mizzable all the rest of my whole life? 'No such luck, says Petey.
Your hirelin' is in jail an' he c'n identify you; so don't resist." "Wait a moment, sir. What is the charge?" "I don't know yet. You know better'n I do what it is." "Look here, Mr. Crow. You arrested me the first time I ever saw you, and now you yank me up again, after all these years. Haven't you anything else to do but arrest me by mistake? Is that your only occupation?"
J. Brutus Hinkins, who is suffering from an attack of College in a naberin' place. Mr. Hinkins said Washington was not safe. Who can save our national capeetle? "DAN SETCHELL," I said. "He can do it afternoons. Let him plant his light and airy form onto the Long Bridge, make faces at the hirelin' foe, and they'll skedaddle! Old SETCH can do it." "You," said Mr.
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