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The Complete Works of Artemus Ward — Part 2: War by Artemus Ward
page 9 of 71 (12%)
sum profane oaths more'n onct, but I hope I didn't do it, for
I've promist she whose name shall be nameless (except that her
initials is Betsy J.) that I'll jine the Meetin House at
Baldinsville, jest as soon as I can scrape money enuff
together so I can 'ford to be piuss in good stile, like my
welthy nabers. But if I'm confisticated agin I'm fraid I
shall continner on in my present benited state for sum time.

I figgered conspicyusly in many thrillin scenes in my tower
from Montgomry to my humsted, and on sevril occasions I
thought "the grate komick paper" wouldn't be inriched no more
with my lubrications. Arter biddin adoo to Jefferson D. I
started for the depot. I saw a nigger sittin on a fence a
playin on a banjo, "My Afrikan Brother," sed I, coting from a
Track I onct red, "you belong to a very interestin race. Your
masters is goin to war excloosively on your account."

"Yes, boss," he replied, "an' I wish 'em honorable graves!"
and he went on playin the banjo, larfin all over and openin
his mouth wide enuff to drive in an old-fashioned 2 wheeled
chaise.

The train of cars in which I was to trust my wallerable life,
was the scaliest, rickytiest lookin lot of consarns that I
ever saw on wheels afore. "What time does this string of
second-hand coffins leave?" I inquired of the depot master.
He sed direckly, and I went in & sot down. I hadn't more'n
fairly squatted afore a dark lookin man with a swinister
expression onto his countenance entered the cars, and lookin
very sharp at me, he axed what was my principles?
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