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WHEN I war a littil over half grown, hed sproutedmy tail feathers, an' wer beginnin tu crow, thar wer alivin in the neighborhood a dredful fat, mean, lazy boy,'bout my age. He wer the middil son ove a ole lark,name Skissim. He tinkered ontu ole clocks, an' spininwheels, et lye hominy, an' exhortid at meetin fur alivin, while this middil boy ove hisen, did the sleepinfur the hole famurly. He cud beat a hog an' a hungrydorg eatin, an' then beat his eatin wif his sleepin, es bades his eatin beat the eatin ove a rat, arter bein shut in achurch, ur a snake in a jug wif no mouf tu hit. Theywaked him tu eat, an' then hed tu wake him agin tumake him quit eatin; waked him tu go tu the spring,an' waked him tu start back agin; waked him tu sayhis prayers, an' waked him tu stop sayin 'em. In facthey wer allers a-wakin him, an' he wer allers a-gointu sleep agin. Ole Skissim waked 'im wif a wagginwhip, an' a buckshot in the cracker, what he totedapupus. His mam waked him wif the tea-kittil an'scaldin warter. Bof the buck-shot cracker an' the warterlos thar vartu et las, an' they jis' gin him over tuonaindin sleepin, an' onmitigated hardness ove hed.Charley Dickins's son, the fat boy, mout been es ni kintu him es a secund cuzzin, ef his mam wer a pow'fulwakeful 'oman.
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I now thot hit ni ontu the proper time tu tetch thecrackers, so es tu hev everything bar hits shar in thekontemplated cummin waknin. An' I did hit. Thefust handful ur so gwine off help'd, wif the industry ovethat energetic ole rat, the sarchin ove the red pepper, an'the permiskus scratchin roun ove the bugs, tu begin tuwake him sorter gradully, a littil faster nor light breadrises, an' a littil slower then a yeathquake wakes-weazels.A few hundred more gwine off, still hevin therat, pepper, an' insex tu back em, got him wide enufawake tu bleve that he wer threatened wif sum orfulpussonal calamerty, what wanted pow'ful quick workon his part tu dodge. He wer awake now all overeven to his durnd ole hat, an' he show'd hit in es menyways es a cat dus, lock'd up in a empty room wif astrange an' interprisin big dorg.
Ole Sock an' his rider cum in site a-tarin, an' theysmelt each uther. Both wer dead game an' mad, so abig fite wer morrily durn'd certin. Es soon es oldBurns seed tuther bull, he onderstood adzackly whatwer a-cumin, an' when; so he leaned hissef back ontuthe rope pow'ful, till he pull'd the stirrup loops tightontu his feet, an' hauled ole Sock's nose an' lip 'wayup atween his eyes by the ring, sorter like bustina rawhide outen a rat wif a ho'n hook. His face look'dlike hit wer skin'd, ur a dead beef's head on a livebull's body. He wer the wust lookin cow brute, in theface, yu ever seed, an' hit made his bellerin soun likehe hed the rattils. But in spite ove all this, he steamedstrait ahead fur the inemy. He didn't keer a durn furanything, since his intercourse wif the bees, an' hismystification in the baskit.
The air wer full ove things; stockins wif laigs inem, showin tu mos' 'vantage; hats wif heds in emwer cumin down like they wer hir'd to ram the pavemintthat way. Truck ove all kind wer flyin ur lyinabout jis durn'd permiscusly. The street wer white wifmilk an' aigshells; hit wer red wif cherrys; hit werblack wif blackberrys, an' hit wer green wif gardintruck. Cherrys roll'd down hill in the cracks atweenthe stones, in litil rivers ove milk. The dead chickenslay whar they fell, an' the live ones lit on the ruffs.Oh! gemeny Jerusalem! I never seed sich a mixtryove oncook'd vittils in all my born'd days! Blowinup a powder-hous', while a harycane am ragin, mixesthings mon'sous' well I reckon, but I gins my vote tuthat Amherst bull.
Well, thar he wer in the yard ontu his all fours,sow'd up body an' soul in the raw hide, hary side out, an'he'd tuck off every durn'd stich ove his close. I tho'tpow'fully how my soltin the hide wer gwine tu workarter the show begun tu be exhitin, an' dad begun tusweat. Sall hed sow'd his hans plum up intu the hideove the fore laigs, an' the loose huffs wer floppin an'crackin about below em es he walked, ur paw'd up dus'.