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Updated: May 29, 2025
The men's faces was all covered with hare and they lookt half-starved to deth. Their pockets was filled with tracks and pamplits and they was bare-footed. They sed the Postles didn't wear boots, & why should they? That was their stile of argyment. The wimin was wuss than the men. They wore trowsis, short gownds, straw hats with green ribbins, and all carried bloo cotton umbrellers.
"I must get 'ome to mend a pair o' trowsis o' mine, but there's no need for you to come." "I'll come and watch you," ses Peter's uncle. "And then I'm going off to bed early," ses Sam. "Me, too," ses Ginger, and Peter said he could hardly keep 'is eyes open. They got on a bus, and as Sam was about to foller Ginger and Peter on top, Mr. Goodman took hold of 'im by the arm and said they'd go inside.
Why don't you behave desunt like other folks? Go to work and earn a honist livin and not stay round here in this lazy, shiftless way, pizenin the moral atmosphere with your pestifrous ideas! You wimin folks go back to your lawful husbands if you've got any, and take orf them skanderlous gownds and trowsis, and dress respectful like other wimin.
His noze thay had painted red and his trowsis legs thay had shuved inside his butes. My wax figger of Napoleon Boneypart was likewise mawltreatid. His sword wus danglin tween his legs, and his cockd hat was drawn klean down over his ize, and he was plased in a stoopin posishun lookin zactly as tho he was as drunk as a biled owl.
Presently a perfeckly orful lookin female presented herself at the door. Her gownd was skanderlusly short and her trowsis was shameful to behold. She eyed me over very sharp, and then startin back she sed, in a wild voice: "Ah, can it be?" "Which?" sed I. "Yes, 'tis troo, O 'tis troo!" "15 cents, marm," I anserd. She bust out a cryin & sed: "And so I hav found you at larst at larst, O at larst!"
"Peter and Mr. Ginger Dick," ses Mr. Good-man. "But don't you trouble. You go 'ome and mend your trowsis." "But they're on the bus," ses Sam, staring. "Dick and Peter, I mean." Mr. Goodman shook his 'ead. "They got off. Didn't you see 'em?" he ses. "No," ses Sam, "I'll swear they didn't." "Well, it's my mistake, I s'pose," ses Peter's uncle.
He is attired in a red shirt and black trowsis, which last air turned up over his boots; his hat, which it is a plug, being cockt onto one side of his classical hed. In sooth, he was a heroic lookin person, with a fine shape. Grease, in its barmiest days, near projuced a more hefty cavileer. "Ha! do me eyes deceive me earsight? Is it some dreams? No, I reckon not!
Said the preacher: "Heavy was the punishment of the Big Man on Twm Cwm, persons, because Twm speeched against the capel. Was he not put in the coffin in his farm trowsis and jacket? And do you know, the Big Man cast a brightness on his buttons for him to be known in the blackness of hell." It is no miracle that we are religious.
He got 'is shirt on, and then 'e stood turning over 'is clothes as if 'e was looking for something. "Never mind about your stud now," ses Mr. Cutts; "hurry up and dress." "Stud?" ses Lewis, very snappish. "I'm looking for my trowsis." "Your trowsis?" ses Smith, 'elping 'im look. "I put all my clothes together," ses Lewis, a'most shouting. "Where are they? I'm 'arf perished with cold.
"Peter and Mr. Ginger Dick," ses Mr. Good-man. "But don't you trouble. You go 'ome and mend your trowsis." "But they're on the bus," ses Sam, staring. "Dick and Peter, I mean." Mr. Goodman shook his 'ead. "They got off. Didn't you see 'em?" he ses. "No," ses Sam, "I'll swear they didn't." "Well, it's my mistake, I s'pose," ses Peter's uncle.
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