Creoles, and pretty girls, and old wimmen, and puckers, and
gethers, and bracelets, and diamonds, and lace, and parasols.
Several times, if not more, wuz Josiah Allen scooped in by a
parasol held by a female, and I felt he wuz liable to be torn from
me. His weight is but small. 3 times his hat fell off in the
operation and wuz reskued with difficulty, and he spoke words I
blush to recall as havin' passed my pardner's lips.

Wall, in the fullness of time, or a little after, for truly I wuz
not in a condition to sense things much, we arrove at a street and
we gladly turned our 2 frames into it, and wended our way on it,
goin' at a pretty good jog. The crowd a growin' less and less and
we kep a goin', and kep a goin', till Josiah sez in weary axents:

"Where be you a goin', Samantha? Haint you never goin' to stop?
I am fairly tuckered out."

And I sez in faint axents, "I would fain reach a land where
parasols and puckers are not and dogs and diamonds are no more."

I wuz middlin' incoherent from my agitation. But I meant well. I
wuz truly in hopes I would reach some quiet place where Josiah and
me could set down alone. Where I could look in quiet and repose
upon that dear bald head, and recooperate my strength.

We went by beautiful places, grand houses of different colors but
every one on 'em good lookin' ones, a settin' back amongst their
green trees, with shady grass-covered yards, and fountains and
flower beds in front of 'em, and more grand handsome houses, and
more big beautiful yards, green velvet grass and beautiful flowers