The Bad Boy at Home, and His Experiences in Trying to Become an Editor / 1885

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outer. A typergraffickal devil ain't s'posed to know everything, enyway. Now the h

bein plasturd, and brot him back a good lath. Wen I giv it to him I thot there was a erupshun from a volcano, the way he swared at me. He sed he'd a noshun to brake it over

buy a wooden galley. I know'd very well I couldn't ma

ve the galley enyway, but the Casheer pade him to hawl it back, and rote Mr. Roache that there boy was laberin under a slite abberashun of the mind wen he ordered it. But I think its his mind wots got the abberashuns instead, from sittin up so late with the red-hedded grass widder wot keeps the bordin ho

ston. I didn't warnt to let him see I was so orful hungery, so I told him I didn't kno. "Well," sed he, "there's nothin like tryin; the fore-man'll sho you wear it is." I couldn't keep back my grattyfycashun, so I thanked him three or four times. You bet I was mad, wen I fo

er, with funny hyroglifficks. I guess its one of the old toombstones wot come from anshunt Troy. Its a wunder