JOSH GITS ORFULLY BIT.
I du consider musketers,
The moste pesky, ov all God's creeters.
I hav finally ketched it. I hav bin like a lam led sudden tu the slauter and had mi blood sucked out ov me, az though it waz only sweet sider, and belonged tu sumbody else. I am a man ov peace, but low, and behold! there aint a peace in me now, but what iz bit, punkterd, and tore.
When muskeeters whisper in yure ear,
The devils angels are hovring near.
I retired laste nite tu rest, at the usual time; on the north side ov me, and about 2 feet adjacent, waz the side ov the hous, on the south side ov me, and about 2 feet adjacent la mi wife. I dropt tu sleep, az a snoflake dus on the buzzum ov a silvery Lake, (i have a faint idee that this laste sentense, for lovlaness, kant be beat, handy.) I dreamed a good-sized, hot dream.
It felt like the breth ov a kanada Thissell,
A round mi hed, a triing tu Whissell.
Suddenly i awoke.
The room waz full ov yels, and skreams. responsiv I dashed wildly akross the room, ackompanied by mi shirt tale. i lit a lite. I harked, one ov mi moste reliable harks. Awl waz still; still az a crows nest, in the ded ov winter. I gazed a gaze, az tho i waz triing tu thread the rong end ov a kambrik needle. Awa in the distance, solitara, and alone, clus up tu the ceiling, chawing hiz cud, sot a little grey cuss. I dipped a koars towel into a basen ov water, and rung it out, i krept up under the little grey cuss, i tuk aim, and fired,
And hit the spot,
Whare the little grey cuss had sot.
Awl waz still again. I onlighted the kandle, and saught mi kouch.