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"What 'n 'tarnation air ye, anny way? Oh, come now! No fellers is do'n' th' river fur fun, that's sartin ye're jist gov'm'nt agints! That's my way o' think'n'. Well, 'f ye kin find fun in 't, then done go ahead, I say! But all same, we'll be friends, won't we? Yew bet strangers! Ye're welcome t' all in this yere shanty boat ain't no bakky 'bout yer close, yew fellers?"
I made some remark, I forget what, but he overbore me. Real things we want are Hate Hate and COARSE think'n. I b'long to the school of Mrs. F's Aunt " "What?" said some one, intent. "In 'Little Dorrit," explained Tarvrille; "go on!" "Hate a fool," said my assailant. Tarvrille glanced at me. I smiled to conceal the loss of my temper.
No philosophy worth a damn ever came out of excesses of love. Salt Lake City Piggott Ag Agapemone again no works to matter." Everybody laughed. "Got to rec'nise these facts," said my assailant. "Love and fine think'n pretty phrase attractive. Suitable for p'litical dec'rations. Postcard, Christmas, gilt lets, in a wreath of white flow's. Not oth'wise valu'ble."
"Ah! and what might you have been doing in the hedge now?" "Think'n', m'lud." "And what were you thinking?" "I were think'n', m'lud, as the tall genelman here is a top-sawyer wi' 'is daddies, m'lud. I was." "Aha! so you've been watching, eh?" "Not watchin' oh no, m'lud; I just 'appened ter notice that's all, m'lud."
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