A brave man may run from danger, a coward fight, a fool do wisdom, and a wise man folly; so consider a reputation, but count it not too high.
DE ROMANCE OF POMPIER NOMBRE TREE
Long tam ago, when I’m de young feller, I’m work on de Fire Stashun. I’m pompier on Depôt Nombre Tree on de Faubourg Quebec. I’m strong lak a beef dose tam, and doant afraid of notting.
Well, perhaps I have fear for wan ting; yes, fer sure, I have much afraid of de ole notaire Leblanc, not fer de raison dat he is more strong as me,—no ba gosh, I’m ver sure I’m give it wan ponch she’s die right away,—but I’m fear fer de raison dat she is de fadder of ma belle petite Antoinette.
Ver well, I recollec wat Antoinette lok lak on dat tam. Bagosh I nevare see de beauty wan lak it. Fer sure she is de bess wan I doan’t care; juce lak wot you call hangel.
Dats twenty year ago. Now she is big as two hunner pound and he have de gray hairs on its head; but she’s de good wan fer me an I can recommember ver well when she is de little ting, belle comme une ange an can mek de dance lak fairy girl.
I’m ver fond of dat little Antoinette fer sure, but de ole man Leblanc she’s not lak me ver much. I’m only Pompier on Nombre Tree: an when one tam she’s see me kiss it several tam de little Antoinette on de passage she’s get so mad lak a bull, an trow me off on de house an tell me go pass on de street an doan’t come back some more. An Antoinette she’s cry lak baby.
Fer sure dats de bad affaire fer me.
I’m ver mad fer de ole man Leblanc, an I’m go on lovin dat little Antoinette juce lak crazy mans. I can’t eat, I can’t slip, I can’t do notting fer tink about dat little Antoinette.
After dat of course I see some tam de little Antoinette, on de sly, an de more I’m see de more I’m crazy; an I tink she’s lak me purty well too.