text_original: It must be dreadful, and it is my fault. When I think how I felt towards my dear old dad, and my uncle  I    " "Well, never mind that. I've got you, and without meaning any gross flattery, I consider you worth a dozen dads. Tell me about your uncle. He died?" "We don't know.
text_transcription: IT MUST BE DREADFUL AND IT IS MY FAULT WHEN I THINK HOW I FELT TOWARDS MY DEAR OLD DAD AND MY UNCLE I WELL NEVER MIND THAT I'VE GOT YOU AND WITHOUT MEANING ANY GROSS FLATTERY I CONSIDER YOU WORTH A DOZEN DEBTS TELL ME ABOUT YOUR UNCLE HE DIED WE DON'T KNOW
phonemes: ɪt mˈʌst biː dɹˈɛdfəl, ænd ɪɾ ɪz maɪ fˈɔlt. wˌɛn aɪ θˈɪŋk hˌaʊ aɪ fˈɛlt təwˈɔːɹdz maɪ dˈɪɹ ˈoʊld dˈæd, ænd maɪ ˈʌŋkəl ˈaɪ    " "wˈɛl, nˈɛvɚ mˈaɪnd ðˈæt. aɪv ɡˈɑːt juː, ænd wɪðˌaʊt mˈiːnɪŋ ˌɛni ɡɹˈoʊs flˈæɾɚɹi, aɪ kənsˈɪdɚ juː wˈɜːθ ɐ dˈʌzən dˈædz. tˈɛl mˌiː ɐbˌaʊt jʊɹ ˈʌŋkəl. hiː dˈaɪd?" "wiː dˈoʊnt nˈoʊ.