“Mis’ Fanny,” she said, “you sholy orto hev been thar. I ain’ nevvah seen sech a big funril in dis heah town. Dey had all de kerridges fum bofe liberty stables, ’mos’ all de private conveniences, an’ dat new fambly fum de North was dere in a two-hoss syringe!”
William Bourke Cochran took his seat in Congress on the day that the House went into turmoil over the special report on post-office affairs. “I suppose it looks like old times to you, Cochran,” said a friend, who, with others, had crowded around to welcome him back. Just then such epithets as “coward,” “knave,” “scoundrel,” and “liar,” hurtled across the chamber. “Well, I can’t say it looks much like old times,” replied Cochran, “too many new faces for that. But it certainly sounds like old times.”
This happened in Scotland: The last edition of the newspapers had been sold out and the newsboys were calculating their takings. “Hallo,” said Jimmy, in alarm, “I’m a ’a’penny short!” “Well, wats the use of ’arpin’ on it?” growled Dick, as he calmly cracked a nut; “you don’t think I took it, do you?” “I don’t say you ’ave. But there it is, I’m a ’a’penny short, and you’re eatin’ nuts.”
In the “Diary of a Frenchman” by Flandrau, he makes a student say to his chum: “I’ve an idea that we’re going to have ‘je suis bon’ in French to-day. I wish you would write out a few tenses for me.”
Whereupon his friend wrote:
“Je suis bon.
Tu es bones,