text_original: Casey stooped to pick up a little book from the woman's breast. His huge fingers opened it with difficulty. "Mac, there's wroitin' in ut!" he exclaimed. "Wal, rade, ye baboon." "Oh, I kin rade ut, though I ain't much of a wroiter meself," replied Casey, and then laboriously began to decipher the writing.
text_transcription: CASEY STOOPED TO PICK UP A LITTLE BOOK FROM THE WOMAN'S BREAST HIS HUGE FINGERS OPENED IT WITH DIFFICULTY MAC THERE'S ROTTEN IN IT HE EXCLAIMED WELL RAID BABOON I CAN READ IT THOUGH I AIN'T MUCH OF A WRITER MYSELF REPLIED CASSON AND LABORIOUSLY BEGAN TO DECIPHER THE WRITING
phonemes: kˈeɪsi stˈuːpt tə pˈɪk ˌʌp ɐ lˈɪɾəl bˈʊk fɹʌmðə wˈʊmənz bɹˈɛst. hɪz hjˈuːdʒ fˈɪŋɡɚz ˈoʊpənd ɪt wɪð dˈɪfɪkˌʌlti. "mˈæk, ðɛɹz ɹˈɔɪtɪn ɪn ˈʌt!" hiː ɛksklˈeɪmd. "wˈæl, ɹˈeɪd, jiː bæbˈuːn." "ˈoʊ, aɪ kˈɪn ɹˈeɪd ˈʌt, ðˌoʊ aɪ ˈeɪnt mˈʌtʃ əvɚ ɹˈɔɪɾɚ mɛsˈɛlf," ɹᵻplˈaɪd kˈeɪsi, ænd ðˈɛn lɐbˈɔːɹiəsli bɪɡˈæn tə dᵻsˈaɪfɚ ðə ɹˈaɪɾɪŋ.