FREE JOKES THE CAPE COD YANKEE

A Yankee visiting Boston, introduced himself, as follows:
"My name is Ichabod Eli Erastus Pickrel; I used to keep a grocery store deown Cape Cod. Patience Doolittle, she kept a notion store, right over opposite. One day, Patience come into my store arter a pitcher of lasses, for home consumption, (ye see, I'd had a kind of a sneaking notion arter Patience, for some time,) so, ses I, 'Patience, heow would you like to be made Mrs. Pickrel?' Upon that, she kerflounced herself rite deown on a bag of salt, in a sort of kniption fitt. I seased the pitcher, forgetting what was in it, and soused the molasses all over her, and there she sat, looking like Mount Vesuvius, with the lava running deown its sides; ye see, she was kivered with love, transport, and molasses. She was a master large gal, of her bigness, she weighed three hundred averdupoise, and a breakfast over. She could throw eanermost any feller in our neighborhood, at Indian hugs. Arter awhile, she kum tu, and I imprinted a kiss right on her bussers, that is, as near as I could for the molasses, and twan't more than a spell and a half, before we caught a couple of little Pickrels. The whooping cough collered one of them, and snaked him rite eout of town. The other one had a fight with the measles, and got licked. Mrs. Pickrel took to having the typhus fever for a living, and twan't more than a half a spell, before she busted up, and left me a disconsolate wider-er-er. If you know of any putty gals that is in the market, just tell them that I'm thar myself."