Nothing in comparison.
1833. “You must not tussle with me no more, Bill,” said the victor; “you see you aint no part of a priming to me.”—James Hall, ‘The Harpe’s Head,’ p. 88 (Phila.).
1833. This aint no part of a priming, to places that I’ve seed afore, no how. I’ve seed race paths in a worse fix than this. Dont you reckon, stranger, that if my team can drag this here heavy wagon, loaded down with plunder, you can sartainly get along with that ar little carry-all, and nothing on the face of the yeath [earth] to tote, but jist the women and children?—James Hall, ‘Legends of the West,’ p. 191 (Phila.).
1862. [He] sed it done very well for some sore-hed Dimmycrat, but that Whittiur could write one [a poem] on ’tother side that this would not be a primin to..—Seba Smith, ‘Letters of Major Jack Downing,’ April 29.
