woulden't just say that I got soggy, but I felt like a hul regiment of
Dutch soljers on general trainin' day.

It suddenly occurred to me that Mrs. GREEN had been puttin' on rather
too many airs lately, and I would go in and quietly remind her that I
was boss of the ranch.

Pickin' up a hoss-whip, I "shouldered arms," and entered the kitchen as
bold as the brave FISK of the bully 9th.

"MARIAR," said I, addressin' Mrs. GREEN, and tippin' over her pan of
dish-water so she coulden't wet my close, "yer 'aven't (hic!) tode the
mark as 'er troo (hic!) wife orter. I can't (hic!) 'ave any more of yer
(hic!) darn foolin'. Will yer (hic!) 'bey yer 'usband like a (hic!) man,
in the futer?"

I raised the hoss-whip to give her a good blow. She caught it on a fly
with both hands, as I lade down on the floor to convince my wife I was
in earnest in what I said.

Well, LEWIS, I remember feelin' as if I was put into a large bag with a
lot of saw logs, and was bein' viteally shoot up. I could also
distinguish my wife, flyin' about as if she had taken a contract for
thrashin' a lot of otes, and haden't but a few minnits to do it in, and
somehow I got it into my head that I was the otes.

I went to sleep in a cloud of hosswhips--hair and panterloon buttons
rapt up in a dilapidated soot of close.

When I awoke, I looked as if that Dutch millingtery Company had been