Whereby Mrs. Harris she have
often said to me, "What DO them blessed infants occupy their little
minds with afore they are called into that condition where, unless
changed at nuss, Providence have appointed them?" And many a time
have I said, "Seek not, Mrs. Harris, to diskiver; for we know not
wot's hidden in our own hearts, and the torters of the Imposition
should not make me diwulge it."
But Pecksniff is that aggravating as I can hardly heed the words I
now put on the paper.
"Some of my birds have left me," says he, "for the stranger's
breast, and one have took wing for the Government benches. {3} But
I have ever sacrificed my country's happiness to my own, and I will
not begin to regulate my life by other rules of conduct now. I
know the purity of my own motives, and while my Merry, my little
Sir William, playful warbler, prattles under this patriarchal wing,
and my Cherry, my darling Morley, supports the old man's tottering
walk, I can do without my Goschy, my dears, I can do without him."
And wants to borrer MY umbreller for them "to rally round," the
bragian idgiot!
A chattering creature he always were, and will be; but, Betsy, I
have this wery momink fixed him up with a shoehorn in his mouth, as
was lying round providential, and the strings of my bonnet, and the
last word as he will say this blessed night was some lunacy about
"denouncing the clogeure," as won't give much more trouble now.
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