Chapter LXXXVII

And _paterotic_! Like to git
Doc started, full and fair,
About the war, and why 't 'uz fit,
and what wuz 'complished there;
"And who wuz _wrong_," says Doc, "er
_right_, 't 'uz waste o' blood and tears,
All prophesied in _Black_ and _White_ fer
years and years and years!"

LXXXVIII

And then he'll likely kind o' tetch
on old John Brown, and dwell
On what _his_ warnin's wuz; and ketch
his breath and cough, and tell
On down to Lincoln's death. And _then_--
well, he jes chokes and quits
With "I must go now, gentlemen!"
and grabs his hat, and _gits_!