text_original: The Squire's irritable glance swept over the unfenced space to right and left, and the thought flashed through his mind: '.uppose I were to give the beggar those gates, would he  would he let me enclose the Scotton again?' He looked at that square, bearded man, and the infallible instinct, christened so wickedly by Mr. Paramor, guided him. "What's wrong with your gates, man, I should like to know?"
text_transcription: THE SQUIRE'S IRRITABLE GLANCE SWEPT OVER THE UNFITCHED SPACE TO RIGHT AND LEFT AND THE THOUGHT FLASHED THROUGH HIS MIND SUPPOSE I WERE TO GIVE THE BEGGAR THOSE GAITS WOULD HE LET ME INCLOSE THE SCOTTON AGAIN HE LOOKED AT THAT SQUARE BEARDED MAN AND THE INFALLIBLE INSTINCT CHRISTENED SO WICKEDLY BY MISTER PARAMORE GUIDED HIM WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOUR GATES MAN I SHOULD LIKE TO KNOW
phonemes: ðə skwˈaɪɚz ˈɪɹɪɾəbəl ɡlˈæns swˈɛpt ˌoʊvɚ ðɪ ʌnfˈɛnst spˈeɪs tə ɹˈaɪt ænd lˈɛft, ænd ðə θˈɔːt flˈæʃt θɹuː hɪz mˈaɪnd:.ˈʌpoʊz aɪ wɜː tə ɡˈɪv ðə bˈɛɡɚ ðoʊz ɡˈeɪts, wʊd hiː wʊd hiː lˈɛt mˌiː ɛŋklˈoʊz ðə skˈɑːʔn̩ ɐɡˈɛn?hiː lˈʊkt æt ðæt skwˈɛɹ, bˈɪɹdᵻd mˈæn, ænd ðɪ ɪnfˈælᵻbəl ˈɪnstɪŋkt, kɹˈɪsənd sˌoʊ wˈɪkᵻdli baɪ mˈɪstɚ. pˈæɹəmɚ, ɡˈaɪdᵻd hˌɪm. "wˌʌts ɹˈɔŋ wɪð jʊɹ ɡˈeɪts, mˈæn, aɪ ʃˌʊd lˈaɪk tə nˈoʊ?"