J. Latchford Lane

Shaken to my core to find a business operating on the Sabbath Day. Perhaps the Future Times have been granted a new Covenant with the LORD?

Children now celebrate Birth-Days with Cakes-of-Merriment and Dunce-Caps. No Molasses or Pig-Whips in evidence.

Small boxes everywhere, thin white tendrils piping some manner of clicking howl into the wearer, causing Seizures and Fits. Name of "I-POD."

I am gladdened to see that Bill-Boards remain. There really is nothing so appetizing as a 20-foot high image of an exotic Cut-of-Meat.

Meals appear to be taken either while sitting or standing, but hardly ever while teetering upon only one leg (or upon Carousel - related?).

Inflation abounds. An Auto-Trolley ride now costs as much as a hard-working 8-Year-Old once earned in an entire week!

An 8-year-old now costs more than a good Dray-Horse? Anymore, how is one to make money in bailed Rutabaga? SPANIARDS!

Foot-Shoes now come in a rainbow of awful colors and shapes, as though ginned up in fevered Imaginings of Reprobates. Comfortable, though.

Communications are now carried upon the aether by Harmonious Oscillation. I still prefer my Mechanical Carrier-Pigeon idea.

Dauntless explorers have born the torch of Liberty upon the northern wastes of the United States, even to within sight of darkest Canada!

Having a deuce of a time finding both a place to mend my frock-coat and a stout Rain Barrel to wear in the interim.

Reports were interrupted by bout of the Whooping Cough punctuated by brief fits of Irishman's Plague plus occasional Leaping Shits.

Well I was just under an harvest moon, now comes January- doubtless a slip in the stream or an eddy in the current or some damnable metaphor

The Union has selected an Blackman as their Head of State, congratulations to all involved for the Progression, Changing, and Hopefulness.

The Lone Star hangs high over the Republic. The people there seem un-distressed by their predicament (that they live in Texas).

This heat has undone my stoutest efforts at coiffure, ensuring another day wherein my head looks like unto an opossum in labor.

Enquired as to a job of work, the better to observe. Imagine my surprise when shown a large workroom without a 9-year-old orphan in sight.

Beers and Ales abound in these heady Future Times, and all are served cold as the Grave! Perhaps I shall become drunkenly. As an Experiment.

Diversity of Sport? Never higher; select from Ballman's Run, A Grip of Asses, Golf, Two Tremendous Brutes, Nuts-in-thy-Sack, or Drowning.

Still and all, I must attest to the superiority of the lately-arriving mechano-man in mining; each is worth two Welshmen a piece, doubt not.