Lor Lor what a night it is any way. Since I was first born, and that's thirty-five-no, forty-five years come next June, I never heern sich win' as that there, fit to tear the roof off Well, this is Christmas Eve, and we ginerally do hev a spell o' weather 'bout this time. Here you Fly Fly you little black imp you if you don't stop that falling asleep over the fire, and stir your lazy stumps, I'll tie you up and give you such a switchin' as you never...