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Uncle Josh's Punkin Centre Stories by Cal Stewart
page 19 of 114 (16%)
he jist looked fer all the world like a picter
on Aunt Nancy Smith's tea cups. I wuz
sort of sot back fer a minnit, coz 'I sed to
myself--I don't spose this durned critter can
talk English; but seein' as how I'm in here,
I might as well find out. So I told him I'd
like to git him to do some washin' fer me,
and he commenced a talkin' some outlandish
lingo, sounded to me like cider runnin'
out of a jug, somethin' like--ung tong
oowong fang kai moi oo ung we, velly good
washee. Wall I understood the last of it
and jist took his word fer the rest, so I giv
him my clothes and he giv me a little yeller
ticket that he painted with a brush what he
had, and I'll jist bet a yoke of steers agin the
holler in a log, that no livin' mortal man could
read that ticket; it looked like a fly had fell
into the ink bottle and then crawled over the
paper. Wall I showed it to a gentleman
what was a standin' thar when I cum out, and
I sed to him--mister, what in thunder is this
here thing, and he sed "Wall sir that's a sort
of a lotery ticket; every time you leave your
clothes thar to have them washed you git
one of them tickets, and then you have a
chance to draw a prize of some kind." So
I sed--wall now I want to know, how much
is the blamed thing wuth, and he sed "I
spose bout ten cents," and I told him if he
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