I'll give him a taste of my breed.
Insultin' a lady is a weed we don't suffer to grow in our fields to Umbagog.

Let him be who the devil he will, log-leg or leather-breeches--green-shirt or blanket-coat--land-trotter or river-roller, I'll let him know there is a warrant out arter him, I know." "'Why,' sais the guide, 'he couldn't help himself, no how he could work it.

He is a friar, or a monk, or a hermit, or a pilgrim, or somethin' or another of that kind, for there is no eend to them, they are so many different sorts; but the breed he is of, have a vow never to look at a woman, or talk to a woman, or touch a woman, and if they do, there is a penance, as long as into the middle of next week.' "'Not look at a woman ?' sais Cran, 'why, what sort of a guess world would this be without petticoats ?--what a superfine superior tarnation fool he must be, to jine such a tee-total society as that.

Mint julip I could give up, I _do_ suppose, though I had a plaguy sight sooner not do it, that's a fact: but as for womankind, why the angeliferous little torments, there is no livin' without _them_.

What do you think, stranger ?' "'Sartainly,' said Squatter; 'but seein' that the man had a vow, why it warn't his fault, for he couldn't do nothin' else.