human
And I said, 'You'--the ladies will excuse me, I'm sure--'You lying rascal,' s' I, 'don't you dare to contradict me! You're all tarred with the same pitch,' s' I. 'Everything you touch turns corrupt and rotten. Look at Henry G. Surface,' s' I. 'The finest fellow God ever made, till the palsied hand of Republicanism fell upon him, and now cankering and rotting in jail--'
gpt
But Henry G. Surface wasn't rotting in jail in 1875,
human
My vision, sir, was prophetic. The stain was upon him. The cloven foot had already been betrayed....
gpt
And who was Henry G. Surface?
human
What! You haven't heard that infamous story!