in the Lowell factories, that warnt in love with him.
Sometimes, at intermission, on Sabbath days, when they
all came out together, (an amasin hansom sight too, near
about a whole congregation of young galls) Banks used to
say, 'I vow, young ladies, I wish I had five hundred arms
to reciprocate one with each of you; but I reckon I have
a heart big enough for you all; its a whapper, you may
depend, and every mite and morsel of it at your service.'
Well, how you do act, Mr. Banks, half a thousand little
clipper clapper tongues would say, all at the same time,
and their dear little eyes sparklin, like so many stars
twinklin of a frosty night.

Well, when I last see'd him, he was all skin and bone,
like a horse turned out to die. He was tetotally defleshed,
a mere walkin skeleton. I am dreadful sorry, says I, to
see you, Banks, lookin so peecked; why you look like a
sick turkey hen, all legs; what on airth ails you? I am
dyin, says he, OF A BROKEN HEART. What, says I, have the
galls been jiltin you? No, no, says he, I beant such a
fool as that neither. Well, says I, have you made a bad
speculation? No, says he, shakin his head, I hope I have
too much clear grit in me to take on so bad for that.
What under the sun, is it, then? said I. Why, says he,
I made a bet the fore part of summer with Leftenant Oby
Knowles, that I could shoulder the best bower of the
Constitution frigate. I won my bet, but the Anchor was
so eternal heavy it broke my heart. Sure enough he did
die that very fall, and he was the only instance I ever
heerd tell of A BROKEN HEART.