When Sol read the thing next day.
Raally didn’t ’pear to be
Extry waste o’ sympathy
Over Sol—pore feller!—Yit,
Sake o’ them-air little bit
O’ two orphants—as you might
Call ’em then, by law and right,—
Sol’s old friends wuz sorry, and
Tried to hold him out their hand
Same as allus: But he’d flinch—