an' fell off his seat. An' they
run an' picked him up, an' he wuz unconshus, an' they worked with him
till 'way long in the afternoon 'fore they found out he wuz thist
asleep; an' he cussed fearful cause they waked him up, an' wondered
why people couldn't never tend to their own bizness like he did.

ON DUDES

Ever'body is allus a-givin' it to Dudes. Newspapers makes fun of 'em,
an' artists makes pictures of 'em; an' the on'y ones in the wide world
that stuck on Dudes is me an' the Dudes theirse'f, an' we love an'
cherish 'em with all a parent's fond regards. An' nobody knows much
about Dudes neither, 'cause they hain't been broke out long enough yit
to tell thist what the disease is. Some say it's softinning of the
brains, an' others claim it can't be that, on the groun's they hain't
got material fer the softinning to work on, &c., &c., till even
"Sientests is puzzled," as the good book says. An' ef I wuz a-goin' to
say what ails Dudes I'd have to give it up, er pernounce it a'
aggervated case of Tyfoid blues, which is my 'onnest convictions.
That's what makes me kind o' stand in with 'em--same as ef they wuz
the under-dog. I am willing to aknolege that Dudes has their weakness,
but so has ever'thing. Even Oscar Wild, ef putt to the test; an' I
allus feel sorry fer George Washington 'cause he died 'fore he got to
see Oscar Wild. An' then another reason w'y you oughten't to jump on
to Dudes is, they don't know what's the matter with 'em any more than
us folks in whom they come in daily contack. Dudes all walks an' looks
in the face like they wuz on their way to fill an engagement with a
revolvin' lady wax-figger in some milliner-winder, an' had fergot the
number of her place of bizness. Some folks is mean enough to bitterly
a'sert that Dudes is strained in their manner an' fools from choice;
but they ain't. It's a gift--Dudes is Geenuses--that's what Dudes is!

ON RED HAIR

Onc't a pore boy wuz red-hedded, an' got mad at the other boys when
they'd throw it up to him. An' when they'd laugh at his red hed, an'
ast him fer a light, er wuzn't he afeard he'd singe his cap, an' orto'
wear a tin hat, er pertend to warm their hands by him,--w'y, sometimes
the red-hedded boy'd git purty hot indeed; an' onc't he told another
boy that wuz a-bafflin' him about his red hair that ef he wuz him he'd
git a fine comb an' go to canvassin' his own hed, and then he'd be
liabul to sceer up a more livelier subjeck to talk about than