Explore "James Wiswell Coffin 3D" by Gelett Burgess on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"Nar, young man," said Coffee John, pointing the stem of his pipe at the lad in the red sweater, "seein' we've all agreed to testify, s'pose yer perceed to open the ball. You come in fust, an' you talk fust. I ain't no fly cop, but it strikes me you're a bit different from the rest of us, though we're all different enough, the Lord knows. Yer jacket fits yer, an' thet alone is enough to myke yer conspicus in this 'ere shop. I see a good many men parss in an' art from be'ind the carnter, but I don't see none too many o' the likes o' you. If I ain't mistook, you'll be by wye o' bein' wot I might call a amatoor at this 'ere sort o' livin', an' one as would find a joke w'erever 'e went. You'd larff at a bloomin' corpse, you would, and flirt with Queen Victoria. You'll never grow up, young fellar; I give yer thet stryte, before yer even open yer marth."
"But wot I cawn't figger art," he continued, "is w'y yer jumped at the sight of a bunch o' ord'n'ry yeller bananas. I've seen 'em eat with their bloomin' knives, an' comb their w'iskers with their bloomin' forks, but this 'ere is a new one on me, an' it gets my gyme. I'm nar ready to listen."