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Updated: May 10, 2025
I'd try to do it but my tung would kerwollup up agin the roof of my mowth & stick thar, like deth to a deseast Afrikan or a country postmaster to his offiss, while my hart whanged agin my ribs like a old fashioned wheat Flale agin a barn floor. 'Twas a carm still nite in Joon. All nater was husht and nary a zeffer disturbed the sereen silens.
I was only gettin orf a goak, but you roter hev seen the Old Kurnal jump up & howl. He actooally fomed at the mowth. "This can't be real," he showtid. "No, no. It's a horrid dream. Sir, you air not a human bein you hav no existents yure a Myth!" "Wall," sez I, "old hoss, yule find me a ruther onkomfortable Myth ef you punch my inards in that way agin."
When she opened her mowth a army of martingales, bobolinks, kanarys, swallers, mockin birds, etsettery, bust 4th& flew all over the Haul. Go it, little 1, sez I to myself, in a hily exsited frame of mind, & ef that kount or royal duke which you'll be pretty apt to marry 1 of these dase don't do the fair thing by ye, yu kin always hav a home on A. Ward's farm, near Baldinsville, Injianny.
He bust into teers and axed me ef I saw that yung lady in the seet out yender, pintin to as slick a lookin gal as I ever seed. Sed I, "2 be shure I see her is she mutch sick?" The man in black close was appeerently as fine a man as ever was in the wurld ennywhares. "Draw closter to me," sed the man in black close. "Let me git my mowth fernenst yure ear. Hush SHESE A OCTOROON!"
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