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You'd scacely hav recognized my fair form, so kiverd was I with dust. Bimeby I met Old Poodles, the all-firdist gambler in the country. He was afoot and in his shirt-sleeves, and was in a wuss larther nor any race hoss I ever saw. "Whither goist thow, sweet nimp?" sez I, in a play-actin tone. "To the mines, Sir," he unto me did say, "to the mines, TO EARN AN HONEST LIVIN."
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