Mother keeps all the magazines an' paper novils, an' we allus reads 'em afore we sells 'em.

I've read the gol-durndest lot o' truck ye ever heard of, so I'm posted on stories in gen'ral.

I'll write one an' sell it to the _Millville Tribune_.

Do ye s'pose they'll give me the thirty, er the fifty, Peggy ?" "Anywheres between, they says.

But one feller gits ten cents a word.
Whew!" "I know; but he's a big one, which I ain't--just now.