FROM THE MUSEUM OF TIMOTHY DEXTER, ESQ. Ime the first Lord in the younited States of A mercary Now of Newburyport it is the voise of the peopel and I… - Timothy Dexter

Trouth I afirme I am so much of A foule the Rougs want to git my Jouels & Loavs & Littel fishes without my Leave Leave is Lit thay all Caled me A foull forty years Now I will Call all fouls but onnes men Now to brove me A foull I Never Could sing Nor play Cards Nor Dance Nor tell A Long storey Nor play on Any mouskel Nor pray Nor make A pen when I was young I Could play on A Jous harp it would mak my mouth warter and the Ladeys sumthing warter gess what I sade Nothing A good Lafe is beter than Crying A Clam will Cry And warter wen thay are out of there Ellemen so wee the same if I had Not the gost in my house I would I mean give Lite to my brothers & sisters and have A pease all over the world and beat the trouthe into my frinds houe goud it is houe onnest it would be and houe man kind has bin in posed upon & houe thay have bin blinded with untrouths gosts and mister Divels there is Now None of that order all Lye the mesonek if thay wilt make a book of trouth I will give the Creaters but I will take the Chare and put my frind bonne partey on my Rte hand And the grat ginrel meroue on my Left hand A Nuf to give the sword is in the banks A Emper only be still I will take the helm in Love I am A quaker ​but I have so Littel sense I Cant Deseave I Can swep my hous & git all A Noue gelt & goue out of hell is bless Law and trouth and Reason on my side it must be done when I git my worthy widdow it is Dun Not one word of Anger as Long as I Live to a A good woman I a firme

I am afraid that Mr. Emerson and Mr. Whitman must yield the claim of declaring American literary independence to Lord Timothy Dexter, who not only taught his countrymen that they need not go to the Heralds' College to authenticate their titles of nobility, but also that they were at perfect liberty to spell just as they liked, and to write without troubling themselves about stops of any kind.

I Crys Crys Lik a babey when I Rits my trobel is so grat to have my Dafter so Crasey the Rick of our Lives such blows with such weapons of a sudden & strike such brouses is worth thirty ​millon of Dolors for a pouer man to have and others o brous me thay wont my Life to git my money & so I must seel & be a sitteson of the world it is a wonder I am a Live the burds will Chip offen before I Can git to sleep the Noys is so grate all hell No more a b bishups he wants to be Deatey Let sade beast goue once & twise act so Now toue much Laning make Rougs and fouls in the Eand Dig a Dich & fall in to it white Rop or a hare Rop taks them in time trouth