Another iron rod was converted into a hook, and two burly-built Paddys volunteered to hook the fish. An opportunity was not long waited for, ere a jolly good elastic nosed genus sturgeon came smelling up close to where the Paddys had posted themselves upon some moss-covered, slippery stones, and with a sudden spasmodic effort, the man with the hook planted it firmly into the suction hole of the fish, while his companion held on to a rope fast to the hook. Before Pat could say Jack Robinson, of course he was jerked off his feet, and, letting go the iron, the other Paddy and the sturgeon set sail, having all the fun to themselves! This proved, or very nearly so, a serious denouement to the sturgeon-catching by hand, for Paddy was carried clean and clear off soundings, and so repeatedly immersed in deep water, that his life was within an ace of being wet out of his body. The rope parted at last (poor Pat never thought of letting go his "hould"), and being dipped out of the liquid element and rolled over a barrel until his insides were emptied of the water, and heat restored through the influence of whiskey, he recovered, and further experimenting on sturgeons, that season, in the Kennebec, ceased.
Mixing Meanings—Mangling English.
There is an individual in Quincy Market, "doing business," who is down on customers who don't speak proper.
"What's eggs, this morning?" says a customer.
"Eggs, of course," says the dealer.
"I mean—how do they go?"
"Go?—where?"
"Sho—!" says the customer, getting up his fury, "what for eggs?"
"Money, money, sir! or good endorsed credit!" says the dealer.