But I was looking purty rough and I couldn't land nothing.

Along in the afternoon I was awful hungry.
I was feeling purty low down to have to ast fur a meal, but finally I done it.
I dunno how I ever come to pick out such a swell-looking house, but I makes a little talk at the back door and the Irish girl she says, "Come in," and into the kitchen I goes.
"It's Minnesota you're working toward ?" asts she, pouring me out a cup of coffee.
She is thinking of the wheat harvest where they is thousands makes fur every fall.

But none of 'em fur me.

That there country is full of them Scandiluvian Swedes and Norwegians, and they gets into the field before daylight and stays there so long the hired man's got to milk the cows by moonlight.
"I been acrost the river into I'way," I says, "a-working at my trade, and now I'm going back to Chicago to work at it some more." "What might your trade be ?" she asts, sizing me up careful; and I thinks I'll hand her one to chew on she ain't never hearn tell of before.
"I'm a agnostic by trade," I says.

I spotted that there word in a religious book one time, and that's the first chancet I ever has to try it on any one.