CONTENTS


[ CHAPTER I. ]

[ CHAPTER II. ]

[ CHAPTER III. ]

[ CHAPTER IV. ]

[ CHAPTER V. ]

[ CHAPTER VI. ]

[ CHAPTER VII. ]

[ CHAPTER VIII. ]

[ CHAPTER IX. ]

[ CHAPTER X. ]

[ CHAPTER XI. ]

[ CHAPTER XII. ]

[ CHAPTER XIII. ]

[ CHAPTER XIV. ]

[ CHAPTER XV. ]

[ CHAPTER XVI. ]

[ CHAPTER XVII. ]

[ CHAPTER XVIII. ]

[ CHAPTER XIX. ]

[ CHAPTER XX. ]

[ CHAPTER XXI. ]

[ CHAPTER XXII. ]

[ CHAPTER XXIII. ]

[ CHAPTER XXIV. ]

[ CHAPTER XXV. ]

[ CHAPTER XXVI. ]

[ CHAPTER XXVII. ]

[ CHAPTER XXVIII. ]

[ CHAPTER XXIX. ]

[ CHAPTER XXX. ]




ILLUSTRATIONS


[ A Gentleman, Wants to Inter Vuehim. ]

[ I Crep Outer Bed and Lit the Gas. ]

[ It Was Ony the Wurk of a Minnit to Pry Open The Lid ]

[ And Rote Bout 10,000 Notes ]

[ Then I Hawled off My False Mustash ]


[ [!-- H2 anchor --] ]

CHAPTER I.

WHY HE CHEWSES A PERFESSHUN.—HYFALUTIN PROLOG, WITH SUM
BARE POSSIBILITIES.—PROSPECTUS OF THE “DAILY BUSTER.”

Mister Diry:

I've been intending ever since I got home from Yourope, to begin ritin' in a diry, but I ain't had no time, cos my chum Jimmy and me has been puttin' in our days havin' fun. I've got to give all that sorter thing up now, cos I've accepted a persisshun in a onherabel perfesshun, and wen I get to be a man, and reech the top rung of the ladder, I'm goin' to mak' New York howl.

Pa, he wanted me to go to skule, but I culdn't see it a tall, cos a feller wot's alwus goin' to skule don't never kno nothin' but base-ballin' and prize fitin' wen 'he gets thru. All them fellers wot rite in dirys begin by usin a lot of hyfalutin wurds wot sound orful big but don't meen nothin; so I guess I'll be in the fashun, so here goes:

You're only a quire of “common noose” paper, Mr. Diry, so you needn't put on so menny airs over your cleen wite dress, wot only needs a morocker lether mantel and gilt braceletts to make you look like you b'longed to the Astor house dude.