One ov the most unkumfortable kritters in this world iz the nervus man.
He discounts all hiz griefs, and suffers more from trubbles that never
happen, than enny boddy else duz from trubbles that do cum.
Hiz ears are like a rabbits, always on end for sum disaster, and hiz
nostrils are like the asses, snuffing misfortune out ov the east wind.
He steps az though he waz walking on eggs, and lays down like a kat in
frunt ov a rat hole, reddy for a spring.
Theze poor phellows suffer without simpathy, and enjoy without
satisfacshun.
The nervous man iz a long lived bird, though hiz nerves are alwus
strung, he lasts like an old phiddle.
Altho i kant help but pitty the nervus man i am aware that he haz
moments ov plezzure that are equal tew whole hours, they are so
intensified.
Whatever he duz enjoy he enjoys the whole ov, passing the bounds ov
reality, he revels in the illimitable fields ov imaginashun and fancy.
I think I would rather have more nerves than i could manage than not tew
hav enny, and mope on thru life az sum men do, with nothing about me so
exciteable az mi relish for pork and beans.