"See here, old man," sed I, "hain't you pilin' on the agony rather too thick?"
"Facts, Squire," sed he, "trooth is stronger than frickshun."
"About these times," he continered, "things was becomin' slitely mixed.
"The different tribes cooden't suck cider through the same straw any more.
"There was a confusion of tongues and a mixin' of contracts. The great Sachem and the Young Democracy had each other by the ear, while the Big Injun was bound to scratch his assailers bald headed.
"In this Reign of High Daddyism, the Young Democracy was scalpt, and that ere bildin' afore us, the great tower of Babel, come to a dead stand still, because the poletishuns coodent understand each other, and fokes dident know where the money was all gone to."
The old man paused.
I sprung to my feet.
"And this," I exclaimed, "is the mitey Babel? Wood that I possessed some of the fortins which has been made on thee. Wood that I was a contracter," sed I, awed in presence of the great bildin' which caused so many to sin.
In my enthusiasm I bust forth in that well-known Him: