THE FAULT-FINDER.
Good Lord, deliver us from the Falt finder, one ov yure kronick grunters, i mean. Theze kind ov human critters are alwuss full ov self consait; if tha waz humble and wud dam themself okasionally, i wud try tew pity them. Yure falt-finding old-bachelor, for instanze, odars a pair ov No. 8 boots, and then kolides with his shumaker insted ov his big feet; he walks tew the depo tew saive hack-hire and misses the trane, and then kolides with the time-table; he kourts a gal till she has tew marry sumboddy else tew keep from spileing, and then he don’t believe thare is a vartuous woman living. If he enjoys ennything he dus it under protess, and if ennyboddy else enjoys ennything he knows tha lie about it. He is like a seckund rate bull tarrier, alwus a fiteing, and alwus gitting licked. These kind ov critters never are reddy tew die, bekause tha haint never begun tew live. I never maik their ackquaintanse enny more than i dew sumboddy’s small pox, bekause i am a looking after bright things and haint got enny to lose. Thare aint enny remedee for this dissease but hunger, and that aint parmanent unless it results in starvashun. Good Lord, deliver us from the falt-finder! if yu undertake tew argy with them yu onla flatter them, and 332 if yu jine in with them yu onla maik them mad with them selfs.
I had rather be a target for awl the bad luk in this wurld than tew go thru life shuteing a pizen arrow at awl the good luk. The more i think ov it, the more i keep thinking that falt-finding iz verry much like bobing for eels with a raw potater; a fust rate wa tew git out ov consait ov awl kinds ov fishing, and a fust rate wa not tew ketch enny eels.
Thare are many singular beins in this world, but i fancy the singularest are the spinsters.
