Well, Poll, and how are you ?" "There's no use in complainin', Darby; I'm middlin'-- and how is yourself ?" "Throth, Poll, I've a lump in my stomach that I fear will settle me yet, if I don't get it removed somehow.

But, sure, the hathens, I forgive them." In the meantime he slyly rubbed his nose and winked both eyes, as he looked towards Susanna, as much as to say, "I know all." Poll, however, declined to notice the recognition, but renewed the discourse-- "Why, Darby, how did the lump come into your stomach?
Faith, in these hard times, there's many a poor divel would be glad to have such a complaint--eh ?" "And, is it possible you didn't hear it ?" he asked with surprise, "howandever, you shall.

I was carrying a letther from Mr.M'Slime, that good, pious crature"-- another shrewd look at Susanna, "Mr.M'Slime to Mr.M'Clutchy, another good gintleman, too, and who should attack me on the way but that turncoat hathen Bob Beatty, wid a whole posse of idolathers at his heels.

They first abused me because I left them in their darkness, and then went to search me for writs, swearin' that they'd make me ait every writ I happened to have about me.

Now, I didn't like to let Mr.M'Slime's letther fall into their hands, and, accordingly, I tore it up and swallowed it, jist in ordher to disappoint the hathens.