The musketer iz a short lived bug, but don’t waste enny time; they are alwuss az reddy for bizzness az pepper sass iz, and kan bight 10 minnitts after they are born just az fluently az ever.

Thare iz people in this world so kontrary at heart, and so ignorant, that they wont see enny wisdum in having musketers around; i alwus pitty sutch pholks—their edukashun haz been sorely neglekted and aint level.

Wisdum iz like duks eggs—if yu git them, yu hav got tew sarch for them—thare aint no duks in theze benighted days that will cum and la eggs in yure hand—not a duk, Mr. ——, not a duk.

The musketo is a soshul insex; they liv verry thick amungst each other, and luv the sosiety ov man also, but don’t kontrakt enny ov hiz vices.

Yu never see a musketer that was a defaulter; they never fail to cum to time, altho thousands looze their lives in the effort.

The philosophers tell us that the muskeeters who can’t sing won’t bight; this information may be ov grate use to science, but aint worth mutch to a phellow in a hot nite whare muskeeters are plenty.

If thare ain’t but one musketer out ov ten that kan bight good, that iz enuff to sustain their reputashun.

The philosophers are alwus a telling us sumthing that iz right smart, but the only plan they kan offer us tew get rid ov our sorrows iz to grin and bear them.

They kant rob one single musketer ov hiz stingger by argument. I say bully for the muskeeter!

The muskeeter iz the child ov circumstansis in one respekt—he can be born, or not, and liv, and die a square deth in a lonesum marsh, 1600 miles from the nearest nabor, without ever tasting blood, and be happy all the time; or he kan git into sumboddy’s bed-room thru the key-hole, and take hiz rashuns reglar, and sing sams ov praze and glorificashun.

It don’t kost a muskeeter mutch for hiz board in this world; if he kant find enny boddy to eat he kan set on a blade ov swamp meadow gras and liv himself to deth on the damp fog.

The musketo is a gray bug and haz 6 leggs, a bright eye, a fine busst, a sharp tooth and and a reddy wit.

He dont waste enny time hunting up hiz customers, and alwus lights onto a baby fust if thare iz one on the premises.

I positively fear a musketo.

In the dark, still nite, when every thing iz az noizeless az a pair ov empty slippers, to hear one at the further end ov the room slowly but surely working hiz way up to yu, singing that same hot old sissing tune ov theirs, and harking to feel the exackt spot on yure face whare they intend tew lokate, iz simply premeditated sorrow tew me; i had rather look forward to the time when an elephant waz going tew step onto me.

The musketo haz no friends, and but phew associates; even a mule dispizes them.

But i hav seen human beings who want aktually afraid ov them; i hav seen pholks who had rather hav a muskeeter lite onto them than to have a trakt peddler lite onto them; i hav seen pholks who were so tuff aginst anguish that a muskeeter mite lite onto them enny whare and plunge their dagger in up tew the hilt in vain.

I envy these people their moral stamina, for next tew being virtewous i would like tew be tuff.

This life iz phull ov pesky muskeetos, who are alwus a looking for a job, alwus reddy tew stik a thissell into yu sum whare, and sing while they are doing it.

Dear Mr. ——, pardon me for saying so mutch about the cursid muskeeto, but ov all things on this arth that travel, or set still, for deviltry, thare aint enny bug, enny beast, or enny beastess, that i dred more, and luv less, than i do this same little gray wretch, called cursid muskeeter.