ᎣᎯᏍᏙᏓ ᎡᏓᏍᏗ ᎨᏎᎢ,  ᎡᎵᏍᎨ ᏫᎵᎻ, ᎤᎦᏃᏩ ᎡᎳᏗ, ᏧᎵᎪ ᎤᏂᏃᏴᎵᏓ ᏌᏌ, ᏓᏓᏍᏕᏓᎵᏴᏍᎬ ᎤᏕᏘᏴᏌᏗᏒ, ᎤᏗᎴᎬ ᎢᎦ ᎡᎯ ᏅᏙ, ᎠᏂᎶᏍᎬ ᏥᏍᏆᏯ, ᎾᎥᏂ ᏄᎾᏛᏅ ᏥᏍᏕᏥ, ᎤᏐᏱ ᏄᎾᏍᏛ ᎤᏂᏃᏕᎾ, ᏚᎸᏉᏛ ᎧᏅᏂᏍᎩ, ᎠᏒᎬ ᏗᎩᏏ, ᏃᎴ ᏄᏬᏚᎲ ᏂᎦᏓ.
It was the best place to be, thought Wilbur, this warm delicious cellar, with the garrulous geese, the changing seasons, the heat of the sun, the passage of swallows, the nearness of rats, the sameness of sheep, the love of spiders, the smell of manure, and the glory of everything.