“You may send to Old Nick for one of the L division!” shouted the valiant Mr. Muff, aspirating with particular emphasis the letter L.
“Here I lays, Teddy O'Blaize, (Singing)
And my body quite at its aise is;
Vith the tip of my nose and the tops of my toes
Turn'd up to the roots of the daisies!
And now, my invaluable spouse, as I carn't conwenienly sing you any more moral lessons, I'll tipple you two or three!” And Mr. Muff, with admirable coolness and precision, filled himself a bumper. “First and foremust, from this day henceforrer'd, I'm determined to be my own lord and master.
“Imprimis and secondly, I don't choose to be the hen-pecked, colly woffling, under-the-fear-of-his-vife-and-a-broomstick Jerry Sneak and Pollycoddle, that the Vhitechapel pin-maker vas! You shan't, like his loving Lizzy, currycomb my precious vig, and smuggle my last vill!”
“Et tu Brute!” said Uncle Timothy, in a half whisper.
“He is a brute!” sobbed Mrs. Flumgarten, “to speak so of poor dear pa!”
“Don't purwoke me, Mrs. Flumgarten, into 'fending and proving, or I shall let the cat out of the bag, and the kittens into the bargain! By the Lord Harry, I'll peach, Mrs. Muff!”