What did all their fine speeches end in at last?
Bunkum; damn the thing but Bunkum.
"But that aint the wust of it, nother.

Bunkum, like lyin', is plaguy apt to make a man believe his own bams at last.

From telling 'em so often, he forgets whether he grow'd 'em or dreamt 'em, and so he stands' right up on end, kisses the book, and swears to 'em, as positive as the Irishman did to the gun, which he said he know'd ever since it was a pistol.

Now, _that's Bunkum_.
"But to get back to what we was a talkin' of, did you ever hear such bad speakin' in your life, now tell me candid?
because if you have, I never did, that's all.

Both sides was bad, it aint easy to say which is wus, six of one and half a dozen of t'other, nothin to brag of nary way.