He sat by August and kept up a running commentary, in a loud whisper, on the sermon, "My feller-citizen," said Jonas, squeezing August's arm at a climax of the elder's discourse, "My feller-citizen, looky thar, won't you?
He'll cipher the world into nothin' in no time.

He's like the feller that tried to find out the valoo of a fat shoat when wood was two dollars a cord.

'Ef I can't do it by substraction I'll do it by long-division,' says he.

And ef this 'rithmetic preacher can't make a finishment of this sub_lu_nary speer by addition, he'll do it by multiplyin'.

They's only one answer in his book.