The Glorious Adventure of Crispus "the Tubman" Mathers

It was the coldest of times, it was the most frigid of times; it was the snowiest of times, it was the iciest of times; people were freezing, people were contracting frostbite; it was cold. Fortunately for me, my good neighbour was a lumberwoman. In the wee hours of the morning, I went to her home in order to knock her up. My home was quite chilly, as I had run out of kindle for the flames of my fire.

Unbeknownst to me, my lumberwoman had company over. I had a nosegay in my left hand and a pint pot of negus in my right, as an apologetic offering for several faggots. She declined my negus as she was already bearing usquebaugh for her gathering. I pray that she was not too intoxicated to be able to pick up my firewood.

I was embarrassed about her company in the early morning, as I was going to make lover to her in a fortnight. I climbed in my phaeton to leave the sawyer's place, and went to the apothecary to gather herbs and regents instead of wood. Upon the way, we struck a pot-boy with the wheel of our wagon. As we saw his face, it was poor young Vilcus, the shaver!

Before I was able to exit the phaeton, old Jack Shepherd was picking Vilcus's pockets stealing of Vilvus's shillings from his day's labour. As I got out to chase Jack, I slipped in the sluiceway. A skittling squire nearby came to help my rise. To ease the pain, he poured srub into my mouth. As to repay him, I gave him a thruppence, and he continued to help me toilet myself.

From afar, an archer mistook the squire for a werewolf. He drew his bow and fired a silver-tipped arrow in the squire's knee. The poor squire spontaneously combusted. I swiftly threw him into the cistern, yet he continued to burn. I brushed off his ashes, and went on my way. Whilst riding through the down of the town, my carriage hit a bump. Almost immediately after, I had an apoplexy. I said farewell to the driver as I traveled across the road to the Otherside.