“I hear this mare of yours is a clipper; but I shall see what metal she has in her before an hour’s over.”
“I tell you the truth, man. It is hard to part with her. My girl, Lizzie, is fond of her, and she is fond of Lizzie, and I allow I’d sooner you’d take all the paddockful than her.”
Prior to our perambulation of the prairie, I invested my crural organs with good gambados or spatterdashes, and had my pedal extremities well calceated, as a propugnation against the mordacity of amphisbaenas.
D. Lincoln Orr wired our poor be[-]panted editor, ‘Pants for Fall will be cut lower, but the prices are not due for a fall, but will rise higher. It behooves you to have those memorable ones re-seated.’
We get such nicknames as nigger nose, beetle face, big lips, and this tends in a certain way to help gain the closeness of one to the other, but it also acts as a disruptive force in the room
