Come at Miguel and talk about some rilligion.

I am nearly expire for me coffee." Parson Jones took his hat from beneath his chair and rose up.
"Jools," said the weak giant, "I ought to be in church right now." "_Mais_, the church is right yonder at Miguel', yes.

Ah!" continued St.-Ange, as they descended the stairs, "I thing every man muz have the rilligion he like' the bez--me, I like the _Catholique_ rilligion the bez--for me it _is_ the bez.

Every man will sure go to heaven if he like his rilligion the bez." "Jools," said the West-Floridian, laying his great hand tenderly upon the Creole's shoulder, as they stepped out upon the _banquette_, "do you think you have any shore hopes of heaven ?" "Yass!" replied St.-Ange; "I am sure-sure.

I thing everybody will go to heaven.