Jue makes good coose, suppose jue been to feer.”
“Why, hiss,” zes Aant, “ben there a pewer spur.
I wedn’t a gone ef nawed ed been so fur.
I bawft a pair of shods for Sarah’s cheeld.”
By this time, lock! we cum jist to the field.
We went to clemmer up the temberen style.
(Haw kept his eye upon me all the while.)
Zes hem to Aant, “Then whos es thees braa maide?
Come tha wayst long, dasent be afraid.”
Then mov’d my side, like a thing,