y bottom
fur tu stand on when they are fur, and will only be fit fur firewood.
Fur my part I don't blame God Almighty fur pitchin folks inter the
infarnel regions when they won't du nothin fur tu keep things right in
this ere world, and some actually hender others from doing anything.

Now, supposen there was a big hole in the end of our street and a
passel of citizens should du all they could to keep that air hole open
fur people to fall inter, and you'd hear 'em hollerin out tu folks
that was a tryin to stop it up; 'Let that air hole alone, everybody
knows its there, if they don't want fur tu git inter it let em go
another way; there is plenty of streets;' wouldn't yer think them air
rascals ought to be singed to all etarnity? Well, what's the mighty
difference 'tween them air, and a passel of citizens that'll set by
and see their feller citizens go straight inter that air hole and say
nothin? I believe in men's minding their own business, and I hold its
a man's business to save a drownding feller critter if he ken.

I hev now come to my last pint. It is this. Shall we hev laws that
will save our nation from becoming a nation of drunkards, or shall we
not? Just picture to yourself a drunken president. We hev hed him.
Then picture a passel of drunken senators. We hev hed them, tu. Seems
zif the more big men ken circulate the devil's pisen, the better they
like it, and that air in my opinion is one reason why we can't get
laws tu shet down the making and selling of the infarnel stuff. Why,
keep that air kind of men in office, and figuratively speakin, the
fust we know, a pair of the president's breeches will be stuffed inter
a broken winder of that air White House. Fur if we keep a sendin men
tu Washington, that is friendly tu that air sarpent with many heads,
it will git so big that it will sartin bust every thing to flinters.
It's leetle young ones are a crawlin everywhere now. They lay coiled
on the hearth of the rich man and the poor man, and woe to the
infatuated pussen who gits inter their slimy folds. O, what wretched
slaves they do make of their victims. What tears, what anguish, what
poverty, what degradation du they bring them tu!

Shall we, the free born sons of America, consent fur tu be made
slaves, and lay among the pots? Shall we walk in rags and stagger in
fetters with the blood of the innercent on our hands? I say, shall
this big proud nation be made fur tu totter and tu reel like a
helpless baby a l