We're a apin' them to beat the monkeys at a show.

I hardly got a neighbour that ain't got figgered Brissels carpet, a furnace, a windmill, a pianny, and her own horse and buggy.

Several's got autermobiles, and the young folks are visitin' around a-ridin' the trolleys, goin' to college, and copyin' city ways.

Amos Peters, next to us; goes bareheaded in the hay field, and wears gloves to pitch and plow in.

I tell him he reminds me of these city women that only wears the lower half of a waist and no sleeves, and a yard of fine goods moppin' the floors.