I thought that my eyes hed gone blind.
Take that pop from my belt!
Hi, thar!—gimme yer han'—
Or I'll kill myself—Lizzie—she's left me—
Gone off with a purtier man!
Thar, I'll quit—the ole gal
An' the kids—run away!
I be derned! Howsomever, come in, pard—
The griddle-cake's thar, anyway.