Son, you-all can't have no idee how turribie this person
looks. She's so ugly the flies won't light on her. Yes, sir! ugly
enough to bring sickness into a fam'ly. Bill can feel all sorts o'
horrors stampedin' about in his frame as he gazes on her. Her eyes
looks like two bullet holes in a board, an' the rest of her feachers
is tetotaciously indeescrib'ble. Bill's intellects at the awful
sight of this yere person almost loses their formation, as army
gents would say. At last Bill gets in a question on his rapid-fire
relatif, who's shootin' him up with queries touchin' Roanoke to beat
a royal flush.
"'Jim,' says Bill, sort o' scared like, 'whoever is this yere lady
who's roamin' the scene?'
"'Well, thar now!' says Jim, like he's plumb disgusted, 'I hope my
gun may hang fire, if I don't forget to introdooce you! Bill, that's
my wife.'
"Then Jim goes surgin' off all spraddled out about the noomerous an'
manifest excellencies of this female, an' holds forth alarmin' of
an' concernin' her virchoos an' loveliness of face an' form, an' all
to sech a scand'lous degree, Bill has to step outdoors to blush.
"'An', Bill,' goes on Jim, an' he's plumb rapturous, that a-way,
'may I never hold three of a kind ag'in, if she ain't got a sister
who's as much like her as two poker chips.
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