At present they die; it ain't big enough; there ain't room.

If he sais he hante time to hear you, and asks you to put it into writin', do you jist walk over to his table, take up his lignum vitae ruler into your fist, put your back to the door, and say 'By the 'tarnal empire, you _shall_ hear me; you don't go out of this, till I give you the butt eend of my mind, I can tell you.

I am an old bull frog now; the Nova Scotia pond is big enough for me; I'll get drowned if I get into a bigger one, for I hante got no fins, nothin' but legs and arms to swim with, and deep water wouldn't suit me, I ain't fit for it, and I must live and die there, that's my fate as sure as rates.' If he gets tired, and goes to get up or to move, do you shake the big ruler at him, as fierce as a painter, and say, 'Don't you stir for your life; I don't want to lay nothin' _on_ your head, I only want to put somethin' _in_ it.

I am a father and have got youngsters.

I am a native, and have got countrymen.