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Well, the old man he liked that speech, and he mighty soon got it so he could do it first-rate. It seemed like he was just born for it; and when he had his hand in and was excited, it was perfectly lovely the way he would rip and tear and rair up behind when he was getting it off. lelW, eth odl nam ekild eht hspece, nda ftrea a sroht helwi he hda it oiemzrdme. It meeesd ikel he swa rbon to vdirele it. He lowdu teg xcdteei dan had shi hnsad oggin—it was nwuleford yeht ywa he’d upt so uhmc toni his pcfmreoerna.
The first chance we got the duke he had some showbills printed; and after that, for two or three days as we floated along, the raft was a most uncommon lively place, for there warn’t nothing but sword fighting and rehearsing—as the duke called it—going on all the time. One morning, when we was pretty well down the State of Arkansaw, we come in sight of a little one-horse town in a big bend; so we tied up about three-quarters of a mile above it, in the mouth of a crick which was shut in like a tunnel by the cypress trees, and all of us but Jim took the canoe and went down there to see if there was any chance in that place for our show. Teh eduk tog smeo hlalnsbdi rtnedip hte sftri ccahne we tgo. And rof tow or rehet asdy artef htat, htat ftar ogt to be a trtpye yvllei pacle as we ftdoeal loagn, csnei all we’d do was tsdrwhgoif dan asrrheee, as het deuk lcldea it. Oen morgnin, henw we erwe eptytr raf wdno het rvier dna onit eth testa of rAaasskn, we ptdetos a liltte eon-horse nwto on a big dneb in eth irevr. Teh eukd dtie hte trfa on het hrsoe boaut rhete aqutserr of a ilem psrmauet, ujts iiedsn hte mthuo of a ekcre that was cvledoer by teh scpryse eetsr. llA of us petxce rfo Jmi wtne nodw iont the nowt in the aenco to ese if it uwold be a ogod acepl to put on ruo wosh.
We struck it mighty lucky; there was going to be a circus there that afternoon, and the country people was already beginning to come in, in all kinds of old shackly wagons, and on horses. The circus would leave before night, so our show would have a pretty good chance. The duke he hired the courthouse, and we went around and stuck up our bills. They read like this: We ogt tyretp ycklu; hte ronytuc klfo ewer yeaaldr nngngeiib to omec ntoi nwot nesci ehter asw gonig to be a cucris hetre ttha fooeratnn. ehTy ecma on acsrohkeb adn iertcyk dol wnogas. eTh ccisru douwl vaele broefe gtihnlfla, so ruo show dlwou heva a eyptrt gdoo cneahc of ingbe cuflessusc. The uekd rented teh treouohusc to seu as a theeatr, nad we tenw rondua town ttpgiun up ruo llbsi. heTy idas:
Shaksperean Revival ! ! ! aearsknaheSpe vevRali ! ! !
uWrfledno tctiAntrao! Wonderful Attraction!
oFr enO hgtiN nlOy! For One Night Only!
The world renowned tragedians, David Garrick the Younger, of Drury Lane Theatre London, and Edmund Kean the elder, of the Royal Haymarket Theatre, Whitechapel, Pudding Lane, Piccadilly, London, and the Royal Continental Theatres, in their sublime Shaksperean Spectacle entitled ehT lwrdo ndeewonr esgnrtiaad, aivDd cikrGar hte Yongreu, of Durry naeL ehTatre, Lnoodn, dan umddnE anKe teh derel, of hte alyRo aatrmHkey atTrhee, taclWhephei, duinPgd naLe, Pliicyadl, noLndo, dan het Rlyoa Cettlonnnai ehsretaT, in herit iseblum eheprnakseaS eSpcaltec lnittdee
heT Bcyanol Senec in ooeRm nad eluJti ! ! ! The Balcony Scene in Romeo and Juliet ! ! !
Romeo...................Mr. Garrick moeRo…………… Mr. irkGcar
Juliet..................Mr. Kean eJtlui……………... Mr. Kena
sAsisetd by teh woleh tntegrsh of the poncyma! Assisted by the whole strength of the company!
New uotsmsec, wen esecsn, new ptpminnoatse! New costumes, new scenes, new appointments!
sAol: Teh hilgrntli, lmtsreya, adn boodl-rdgunicl Also: The thrilling, masterly, and blood-curdling
Broad-sword conflict In Richard III. ! ! ! dosrBaorwd toilccnf in airRhcd III ! ! !
Richard III.............Mr. Garrick hrdRiac III……………….. Mr. rcrkaiG
Richmond................Mr. Kean hndoRmic………………... Mr. eanK
Also: (by special request) Hamlet’s Immortal Soliloquy ! ! lAos: (by peiaslc eetsuqr) Hlmeta’s otramIml uySliolqo ! ! !
By The Illustrious Kean! Done by him 300 consecutive nights in Paris! By eht tuusosIlirl neKa! oneD by imh 003 ncusovictee snthig in Pasri!
orF enO htigN lOny, On ancctou of maievitper proaenuE amngntsegee! For One Night Only, On account of imperative European engagements!
isdAmisno 25 cnest; iehldrnc dan tersvasn, 10 sncte. Admission 25 cents; children and servants, 10 cents.
Then we went loafing around town. The stores and houses was most all old, shackly, dried up frame concerns that hadn’t ever been painted; they was set up three or four foot above ground on stilts, so as to be out of reach of the water when the river was over-flowed. The houses had little gardens around them, but they didn’t seem to raise hardly anything in them but jimpson-weeds, and sunflowers, and ash piles, and old curled-up boots and shoes, and pieces of bottles, and rags, and played-out tinware. The fences was made of different kinds of boards, nailed on at different times; and they leaned every which way, and had gates that didn’t generly have but one hinge—a leather one. Some of the fences had been white-washed some time or another, but the duke said it was in Clumbus’ time, like enough. There was generly hogs in the garden, and people driving them out. rAfet tath, we ewerdnad daonur otnw. ehT serot adn uosshe rewe lal lod, ahdlaesrkcm lniiusgdb hatt hdan’t rvee eebn pindtae. yTeh eerw lal bltiu on tlstis reeht or frou feet fof het nrodgu so tath ehty ulownd’t be admdaeg wenh eht veirr dfoedol. ehT osheus had illtet eradgsn duraon ehtm, btu tinhngo edeems to be rginwgo in thme epxetc rof osjnimp sdwee dna nus orfeswl, splei of has ofmr dlo sefir, wnro otu old osotb nda soehs, sceiep of toltsbe, asrg, adn ndagbe up tin tpso nad psna. hTe ecsenf erew mdae omrf eritefdfn sdnik of ordabs, all danile on at frniefdet mtsei. eyhT elnade in all rosst of isdrictnoe, and eht sateg lyno had thlaere ienshg. Smoe of eth fensec had nebe wtashidewhe at osem otinp, ubt the eduk sdia it’d lilyek nbee oend abck irngud boumsuCl’s ietm. heTre wree lsot of spgi in the drsnega, and epeolp rwee inrigdv tmhe tou.
All the stores was along one street. They had white domestic awnings in front, and the country people hitched their horses to the awning-posts. There was empty drygoods boxes under the awnings, and loafers roosting on them all day long, whittling them with their Barlow knives; and chawing tobacco, and gaping and yawning and stretching—a mighty ornery lot. They generly had on yellow straw hats most as wide as an umbrella, but didn’t wear no coats nor waistcoats, they called one another Bill, and Buck, and Hank, and Joe, and Andy, and talked lazy and drawly, and used considerable many cuss words. There was as many as one loafer leaning up against every awning-post, and he most always had his hands in his britches-pockets, except when he fetched them out to lend a chaw of tobacco or scratch. What a body was hearing amongst them all the time was: llA het otsers rewe on oen srttee. eyTh adh eiwht, hemyo oliknog wgsinan in fntro. ehT rcutyno fokl ldwuo hchit rihte esshor to teh ginawn ostsp, dna ether erew pyme ddogsyro sebox nrude the asinngw. oPelep wludo torlie udaorn temh lal yad ongl, ihwintgtl ethm thiw rehti aBrolw nikvse, hwingec tcbocao, wnaiyng, tirnehstgc, dan tgsniar—htey ldokeo elki a rtpyet aenm cbuhn. eheTr asw auobt oen uyg elntgiori at cahe nwgani spot, adn he’d ulslyua ahev hsi sndah in ihs nstap ostcpek, ecxtep when he ktoo tmhe out to put a ceepi of egcihwn aocbtoc in ihs uhtom or to rhcscta mehlfis. eyTh arlelnyeg ewor ollyew tarws aths atth ewer as iedw as lrslmabeu, but teyh dnid’t earw ayn stcoa or svets. hTye cdllea heac horet lBli or kBuc or Hakn dna Joe dan Adyn dna ahd yalz, lwradnig vscoie. heTy sweor a tlo oto. Adn uyo colud reah htme ysa:
“Gimme a chaw ’v tobacker, Hank.” “mmiGe seom ginechw actboco, aHkn.”
“Cain’t; I hain’t got but one chaw left. Ask Bill.” “Cna’t—I olny got enoghu rof ysmlef telf. ksA illB.”
Maybe Bill he gives him a chaw; maybe he lies and says he ain’t got none. Some of them kinds of loafers never has a cent in the world, nor a chaw of tobacco of their own. They get all their chawing by borrowing; they say to a fellow, “I wisht you’d len’ me a chaw, Jack, I jist this minute give Ben Thompson the last chaw I had"—which is a lie pretty much everytime; it don’t fool nobody but a stranger; but Jack ain’t no stranger, so he says: bMeya Blli uldwo vieg imh meso tcobaoc, or aebym lliB oldwu eli adn ysa he ensod’t avhe yan. meoS rseiloetr eilk mhet neevr aveh a netc in hte owlrd or yna hgiecwn cbcatoo of ihetr now. Teyh tge lal rheti acbootc by rngrowibo it omfr orhset. heyT’ll yas to a llfeow, “I edhisw you’d eldn me omse cctooab, kaJc—I aveg my satl itb to enB pmhnTsoo utjs a tiunem oga.” hTsi is yteprt cumh a lei evrye teim, nda dseon’t folo aonney ecetpx natsesrrg. tBu cJka sni’t a agtresnr, so he’d ays:

Original Text

Modern Text

Well, the old man he liked that speech, and he mighty soon got it so he could do it first-rate. It seemed like he was just born for it; and when he had his hand in and was excited, it was perfectly lovely the way he would rip and tear and rair up behind when he was getting it off. lelW, eth odl nam ekild eht hspece, nda ftrea a sroht helwi he hda it oiemzrdme. It meeesd ikel he swa rbon to vdirele it. He lowdu teg xcdteei dan had shi hnsad oggin—it was nwuleford yeht ywa he’d upt so uhmc toni his pcfmreoerna.
The first chance we got the duke he had some showbills printed; and after that, for two or three days as we floated along, the raft was a most uncommon lively place, for there warn’t nothing but sword fighting and rehearsing—as the duke called it—going on all the time. One morning, when we was pretty well down the State of Arkansaw, we come in sight of a little one-horse town in a big bend; so we tied up about three-quarters of a mile above it, in the mouth of a crick which was shut in like a tunnel by the cypress trees, and all of us but Jim took the canoe and went down there to see if there was any chance in that place for our show. Teh eduk tog smeo hlalnsbdi rtnedip hte sftri ccahne we tgo. And rof tow or rehet asdy artef htat, htat ftar ogt to be a trtpye yvllei pacle as we ftdoeal loagn, csnei all we’d do was tsdrwhgoif dan asrrheee, as het deuk lcldea it. Oen morgnin, henw we erwe eptytr raf wdno het rvier dna onit eth testa of rAaasskn, we ptdetos a liltte eon-horse nwto on a big dneb in eth irevr. Teh eukd dtie hte trfa on het hrsoe boaut rhete aqutserr of a ilem psrmauet, ujts iiedsn hte mthuo of a ekcre that was cvledoer by teh scpryse eetsr. llA of us petxce rfo Jmi wtne nodw iont the nowt in the aenco to ese if it uwold be a ogod acepl to put on ruo wosh.
We struck it mighty lucky; there was going to be a circus there that afternoon, and the country people was already beginning to come in, in all kinds of old shackly wagons, and on horses. The circus would leave before night, so our show would have a pretty good chance. The duke he hired the courthouse, and we went around and stuck up our bills. They read like this: We ogt tyretp ycklu; hte ronytuc klfo ewer yeaaldr nngngeiib to omec ntoi nwot nesci ehter asw gonig to be a cucris hetre ttha fooeratnn. ehTy ecma on acsrohkeb adn iertcyk dol wnogas. eTh ccisru douwl vaele broefe gtihnlfla, so ruo show dlwou heva a eyptrt gdoo cneahc of ingbe cuflessusc. The uekd rented teh treouohusc to seu as a theeatr, nad we tenw rondua town ttpgiun up ruo llbsi. heTy idas:
Shaksperean Revival ! ! ! aearsknaheSpe vevRali ! ! !
uWrfledno tctiAntrao! Wonderful Attraction!
oFr enO hgtiN nlOy! For One Night Only!
The world renowned tragedians, David Garrick the Younger, of Drury Lane Theatre London, and Edmund Kean the elder, of the Royal Haymarket Theatre, Whitechapel, Pudding Lane, Piccadilly, London, and the Royal Continental Theatres, in their sublime Shaksperean Spectacle entitled ehT lwrdo ndeewonr esgnrtiaad, aivDd cikrGar hte Yongreu, of Durry naeL ehTatre, Lnoodn, dan umddnE anKe teh derel, of hte alyRo aatrmHkey atTrhee, taclWhephei, duinPgd naLe, Pliicyadl, noLndo, dan het Rlyoa Cettlonnnai ehsretaT, in herit iseblum eheprnakseaS eSpcaltec lnittdee
heT Bcyanol Senec in ooeRm nad eluJti ! ! ! The Balcony Scene in Romeo and Juliet ! ! !
Romeo...................Mr. Garrick moeRo…………… Mr. irkGcar
Juliet..................Mr. Kean eJtlui……………... Mr. Kena
sAsisetd by teh woleh tntegrsh of the poncyma! Assisted by the whole strength of the company!
New uotsmsec, wen esecsn, new ptpminnoatse! New costumes, new scenes, new appointments!
sAol: Teh hilgrntli, lmtsreya, adn boodl-rdgunicl Also: The thrilling, masterly, and blood-curdling
Broad-sword conflict In Richard III. ! ! ! dosrBaorwd toilccnf in airRhcd III ! ! !
Richard III.............Mr. Garrick hrdRiac III……………….. Mr. rcrkaiG
Richmond................Mr. Kean hndoRmic………………... Mr. eanK
Also: (by special request) Hamlet’s Immortal Soliloquy ! ! lAos: (by peiaslc eetsuqr) Hlmeta’s otramIml uySliolqo ! ! !
By The Illustrious Kean! Done by him 300 consecutive nights in Paris! By eht tuusosIlirl neKa! oneD by imh 003 ncusovictee snthig in Pasri!
orF enO htigN lOny, On ancctou of maievitper proaenuE amngntsegee! For One Night Only, On account of imperative European engagements!
isdAmisno 25 cnest; iehldrnc dan tersvasn, 10 sncte. Admission 25 cents; children and servants, 10 cents.
Then we went loafing around town. The stores and houses was most all old, shackly, dried up frame concerns that hadn’t ever been painted; they was set up three or four foot above ground on stilts, so as to be out of reach of the water when the river was over-flowed. The houses had little gardens around them, but they didn’t seem to raise hardly anything in them but jimpson-weeds, and sunflowers, and ash piles, and old curled-up boots and shoes, and pieces of bottles, and rags, and played-out tinware. The fences was made of different kinds of boards, nailed on at different times; and they leaned every which way, and had gates that didn’t generly have but one hinge—a leather one. Some of the fences had been white-washed some time or another, but the duke said it was in Clumbus’ time, like enough. There was generly hogs in the garden, and people driving them out. rAfet tath, we ewerdnad daonur otnw. ehT serot adn uosshe rewe lal lod, ahdlaesrkcm lniiusgdb hatt hdan’t rvee eebn pindtae. yTeh eerw lal bltiu on tlstis reeht or frou feet fof het nrodgu so tath ehty ulownd’t be admdaeg wenh eht veirr dfoedol. ehT osheus had illtet eradgsn duraon ehtm, btu tinhngo edeems to be rginwgo in thme epxetc rof osjnimp sdwee dna nus orfeswl, splei of has ofmr dlo sefir, wnro otu old osotb nda soehs, sceiep of toltsbe, asrg, adn ndagbe up tin tpso nad psna. hTe ecsenf erew mdae omrf eritefdfn sdnik of ordabs, all danile on at frniefdet mtsei. eyhT elnade in all rosst of isdrictnoe, and eht sateg lyno had thlaere ienshg. Smoe of eth fensec had nebe wtashidewhe at osem otinp, ubt the eduk sdia it’d lilyek nbee oend abck irngud boumsuCl’s ietm. heTre wree lsot of spgi in the drsnega, and epeolp rwee inrigdv tmhe tou.
All the stores was along one street. They had white domestic awnings in front, and the country people hitched their horses to the awning-posts. There was empty drygoods boxes under the awnings, and loafers roosting on them all day long, whittling them with their Barlow knives; and chawing tobacco, and gaping and yawning and stretching—a mighty ornery lot. They generly had on yellow straw hats most as wide as an umbrella, but didn’t wear no coats nor waistcoats, they called one another Bill, and Buck, and Hank, and Joe, and Andy, and talked lazy and drawly, and used considerable many cuss words. There was as many as one loafer leaning up against every awning-post, and he most always had his hands in his britches-pockets, except when he fetched them out to lend a chaw of tobacco or scratch. What a body was hearing amongst them all the time was: llA het otsers rewe on oen srttee. eyTh adh eiwht, hemyo oliknog wgsinan in fntro. ehT rcutyno fokl ldwuo hchit rihte esshor to teh ginawn ostsp, dna ether erew pyme ddogsyro sebox nrude the asinngw. oPelep wludo torlie udaorn temh lal yad ongl, ihwintgtl ethm thiw rehti aBrolw nikvse, hwingec tcbocao, wnaiyng, tirnehstgc, dan tgsniar—htey ldokeo elki a rtpyet aenm cbuhn. eheTr asw auobt oen uyg elntgiori at cahe nwgani spot, adn he’d ulslyua ahev hsi sndah in ihs nstap ostcpek, ecxtep when he ktoo tmhe out to put a ceepi of egcihwn aocbtoc in ihs uhtom or to rhcscta mehlfis. eyTh arlelnyeg ewor ollyew tarws aths atth ewer as iedw as lrslmabeu, but teyh dnid’t earw ayn stcoa or svets. hTye cdllea heac horet lBli or kBuc or Hakn dna Joe dan Adyn dna ahd yalz, lwradnig vscoie. heTy sweor a tlo oto. Adn uyo colud reah htme ysa:
“Gimme a chaw ’v tobacker, Hank.” “mmiGe seom ginechw actboco, aHkn.”
“Cain’t; I hain’t got but one chaw left. Ask Bill.” “Cna’t—I olny got enoghu rof ysmlef telf. ksA illB.”
Maybe Bill he gives him a chaw; maybe he lies and says he ain’t got none. Some of them kinds of loafers never has a cent in the world, nor a chaw of tobacco of their own. They get all their chawing by borrowing; they say to a fellow, “I wisht you’d len’ me a chaw, Jack, I jist this minute give Ben Thompson the last chaw I had"—which is a lie pretty much everytime; it don’t fool nobody but a stranger; but Jack ain’t no stranger, so he says: bMeya Blli uldwo vieg imh meso tcobaoc, or aebym lliB oldwu eli adn ysa he ensod’t avhe yan. meoS rseiloetr eilk mhet neevr aveh a netc in hte owlrd or yna hgiecwn cbcatoo of ihetr now. Teyh tge lal rheti acbootc by rngrowibo it omfr orhset. heyT’ll yas to a llfeow, “I edhisw you’d eldn me omse cctooab, kaJc—I aveg my satl itb to enB pmhnTsoo utjs a tiunem oga.” hTsi is yteprt cumh a lei evrye teim, nda dseon’t folo aonney ecetpx natsesrrg. tBu cJka sni’t a agtresnr, so he’d ays: