Men gaze at his porkyness, and kount his vallu bi pounds, 381 and la in wate for him, and sacrifise him, and give his flesh salt for its safety.
This is Pig life.
JOSH BILLINGS ADDRESSES THE “FEMAIL PORDUNK SOWING SOSIETY.”
Feller sisters:—When I caste mi eye on a sirkle of luvely wimmin bizzy with their needles, mi harte seems tew stretch clean akross mi buzzum. And when i reflek for a minnit, that tha are tew work for nothing, and find themselfs, and that a yung heathin stans reddy yelping around the corner, for the very shirt tha are wurking on, it duz seem tu me, that i cud shout hozzanner for 3 weeks on a strech.
Feller Sisters, yu kan kount on Josh Billings az a frend; he luves charitee, az a pup hankers for nu milk; his verry natur looks out onto the horizen ov the poor folks, jist as the lite ov a tin lantern shines akross a bog meddow.
And he sees the little bare bak yung ones shivering for a krust ov bread, and hungry for a shirt; then he looks at the Sisters, a talking and sowing, and sowing and talking, and he kounts a hole parcil ov little shirts on the tabil, and then he thinks ov the widders cruise, and the bred hove onto the waters, menshioned in the good Book, and he feels jist az tho he wud like tew own awl the femail sowing sosieties in the wurld hisself, and put hiz hole fortin in the little reddy made cottin shirt bizziness.
Oh Charitee! Oh Charitee! When Josh Billings communes with you, he feals az tho he had jist been tried out, and sot awa tew cool.
Feller Sisters, don’t be skeered, let the ritch and the hawty stik up their nozes, and let the eddicated larf.
Josh wud like no better fun than jiss to bet his 9 dollars, that enny Sister, in full communion with this ere sowing sosiety, who puts in full time, and cuts the cotting tew advantage, wil git her final reward.
Tew konklude, Feller Sisters, pitch in; remember Mr. Lots wife, she that was salted for looken bak.