A YARN.—THE AUNT, AND THE GRASSHOPPER.
Once on a previous time, about four hundred thousand years ago, in the old ov the moon, during a verry dry spell ov weather, just after a hard frost, when grass butter waz skass, while venus was an evening star. An old ant, who had lost awl ov her front teeth, and waz twisted with the rhumatiz, and a pollypurse in her noze, sot in an eazy chair, near the front door ov an aunt hill, superintendin a phatt kurnell ov wheat, which the yung aunts were trieing tew git down cellar, into their house.
Jisst then along cum a loafing grasshopper, smoking a pipe, and singing, “Begone dull care, i pray thee begone from me.”—and spieing the old ant, giving orders tew the yung aunts, he stopt tew hav a talk with her.
“Good morning, old mother Industry, good morning!” sed the grassbug. “A fine cernal ov wheat that, yu are rooling in!
“Hav yu heard the grate news?
“Dredfull sharp frost last night!
“Winter will soon set in, i reckon!
“I herd the owls hute last nite!
“Terribel bad acksident on the Harlem road yesterday!
“When dew yu think specie payments will be took up?