in the Faul of 18--, my orgin grinder got sick with the fever &
died. I never felt so ashamed in my life, & I thowt I'd hist in
a few swallows of suthin strengthin. Konsequents was I histid in
so much I dident zackly know whare bowts I was. I turnd my livin
wild beests of Pray loose into the streets and spilt all my wax
wurks. I then Bet I cood play hoss. So I hitched myself to a
Kanawl bote, there bein two other hosses hitcht on also, one
behind and anuther ahead of me. The driver hollerd for us to git
up, and we did. But the hosses bein onused to sich a arrangemunt
begun to kick & squeal and rair up. Konsequents was I was kickt
vilently in the stummuck & back, and presuntly I fownd myself in
the Kanawl with the other hosses, kickin & yellin like a tribe of
Cusscaroorus savvijis. I was rescood, & as I was bein carrid to
the tavern on a hemlock Bored I sed in a feeble voise, "Boys,
playin hoss isn't my Fort."

MORUL--Never don't do nothin which isn't your Fort, for ef you do
you'll find yourself splashin round in the Kanawl, figgeratively
speakin.


1.3. THE SHAKERS.

The Shakers is the strangest religious sex I ever met. I'd hearn
tell of 'em and I'd seen 'em, with their broad brim'd hats and
long wastid coats; but I'd never cum into immejit contack with
'em, and I'd sot 'em down as lackin intelleck, as I'd never seen
'em to my Show--leastways, if they cum they was disgised in white
peple's close, so I didn't know 'em.