Sez I, “Mis. Peasly, air you a parent?”
Sez she, “No, I ain’t.”
Sez I, “Mis. Peasly, you never will be.”
She left.
We sot there talkin & larfin until “the switchin hour of nite, when grave yards yawn & Josts troop 4th,” as old Bill Shakespire aptlee obsarves in his dramy of John Sheppard, esq, or the Moral House Breaker, when we broke up & disbursed.
Muther & children is a doin well & as Resolushhuns is the order of the day I will feel obleeged if you’ll insurt the follerin—
Whereas, two Eppisodes has happined up to the undersined’s house, which is Twins; & Whereas I like this stile, sade twins bein of the male perswashun & both boys; there4 Be it—
Resolved, That to them nabers who did the fare thing by sade Eppisodes my hart felt thanks is doo.
Resolved, That I do most hartily thank Engine Ko. No. 17, who, under the impreshun from the fuss at my house on that auspishus nite that thare was a konflagration goin on, kum galyiantly to the spot, but kindly refraned from squirtin.
Resolved, That frum the Bottum of my Sole do I thank the Baldinsville brass band fur givin up the idea of Sarahnadin me, both on that great nite & sinse.