There was a fine gentle wind, and Mr. Pickwick's hat rolled sportively before it. The wind puffed, and Mr… — Charles Dickens
There was a fine gentle wind, and Mr. Pickwick's hat rolled sportively before it. The wind puffed, and Mr. Pickwick puffed, and the hat rolled over and over as merrily as a lively porpoise in a strong tide.
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Wotever is, is right, as the young nobleman sveetly remarked wen they put him down in the pension list 'cos his mother's uncle's vife's grandfather vunce lit the king's pipe vith a portable tinder-box.
Miss Bolo rose from the table considerably agitated, and went straight home, in a flood of tears and a sedan-chair.
Anythin' for a quiet life, as the man said wen he took the sitivation at the lighthouse.
