Puter men are mighty common here on earth, not only kommon bekauze they are plenty, but kommon bekauze they don’t amount tew mutch.
They ain’t exactly phools; if they was, we could deskribe them better.
They are like bass wood punkin seeds, and white oak whetstuns, in a well-stocked kuntry store, kind ov necessary, tew keep up the assortment.
They never do enny thing verry good or verry bad, and go thru life a good deal az a boy goes tew distrikt skool, in green-apple time, jist bekauze he haz got to.
THE FITEING MAN.
The fiteing man iz a kind ov human bull tarrier, with a jaw on him like a wolf trap that haz just been sprung.
He haz a low, sour forehead, a beefy neck, a small eye, and an ugly pug noze.
Hiz intelligence konsists in knowing how tew maul another human being, able tew take it in return, and not kno it.
All hiz ideas ov honor are governed bi the code which calls it dishonorable to puntch a man belo the belt.
Hiz grate ambishun in life iz tew win a phew bloody fights, and then end hiz daze az the proprietor ov a gin mill, with hiz name and infamy hung up in gilt letters over hiz bar.