Nite befoar larst was an Erer in the annals of Sand Francisco; yis,
an Erer; I sa it, and I guess I know what a Erer is! I gess I do!
It's something like this noosepaper, for instance; something that's
gut a big Injin onto it; though the Big Injin Fryday Nite had his
close on, which this moril Jernal's Injin hasn't, bein intended to
represent that nobil read man of the forrist, of hoom the poet
sweetly sings:

"Low, the poor Injin! hoose untootered mind
Clothes him in frunt--Butt leaves him bare behind!"

However, let that parse.

I hearn thare was to be a show up to Mr Platt's Haul on the occashun
allewded to; so I took Maria An an' the children--with the excepshun
of the smollest wun, which, under the inflewence of tired Nachure's
sweet restorer, Missis Winslow's Soothin Syrup, was rapped in barmy
slumbers--up to prayer meetin; and after havin excoosed myself to the
pardner of my boosom, on the plee of havin swallered a boks of
Bristol's Sugar-Coated Pills, I slipt out and went down to the Haul,
thinkin I would have a little relaxation. Prubably Mariar An thought
so too. (That are a double entender, but I didn't intend it.)
Although I arrove quite airly, I found a few Individools I mean to sa
I found but few who ware not--already in the Haul. I would not on no
account whatsumdever, no how you can fix it, deceeve nobody nor
nothin', for I am a pieus man, and send my wife to church, and
addhere to the trooth; and yit, I ventoor to assurt, that I never in
all my born dase beheld so menny fokes befoar--stop, I er slitely-- I
had a seat in the rear.