"Ye've got a good 'oman, hev ye?"
"There's none better; at least, I think so."
"Wal, I'm 'zactly uv thet 'pinion 'bout mine: I wouldn't trade her fur all this worle, an' th' best half uv 'tother."
"Don't ye talk so, John," said the lady; then addressing me, she added: "It's a good husband thet makes a good wife, sir."
"Sometimes, madam, but not always. I've known some of the best of wives who had miserable husbands."
"An' I'm d——d ef I made my wife th' 'oman she ar'," said the corn-cracker.
"Hush, John; ye musn't sw'ar so; ye knows how often ye've said ye wouldn't."
"Wal, I du, an' I wont agin, by ——. But Sukey, whar's th' young 'uns?"
"Out in the lot, I reckon; but ye musn't holler'm in—they'r all dirt."
"No matter for that, madam," I said; "dirt is healthy for little ones; rolling in the mud makes them grow."