text_original: 395 a terrible fire, clinging with tooth and nail to the bushes growing on the verge of the precipice, brandishing ham  mers and pitchforks, the well armed troops, well  drilled, securely posted as they were, although they had not yet lost a single man, could not resist a moment of involuntary panic.
text_transcription: A TERRIBLE FIRE CLINGING WITH TOOTH AND NAIL TO THE BUSHES GROWING ON THE VERGE OF THE PRECIPICE BRANDISHING HAMMERS AND PITCHFORKS THE WELL ARMED TROOPS WELL DRILLED SECURELY POSTED AS THEY WERE ALTHOUGH THEY HAD NOT YET LOST A SINGLE MAN COULD NOT RESIST THE MOMENT OF INVOLUNTARY PANIC
phonemes: θɹˈiːhˈʌndɹɪd nˈaɪnti fˈaɪv ɐ tˈɛɹᵻbəl fˈaɪɚ, klˈɪŋɪŋ wɪð tˈuːθ ænd nˈeɪl tə ðə bˈʊʃᵻz ɡɹˈoʊɪŋ ɔnðə vˈɜːdʒ ʌvðə pɹˈɛsᵻpˌɪs, bɹˈændɪʃɪŋ hˈæm mˈɜːz ænd pˈɪtʃfɔːɹks, ðə wˈɛl ˈɑːɹmd tɹˈuːps, wˈɛl dɹˈɪld, sᵻkjˈʊɹli pˈoʊstᵻd æz ðeɪ wɜː, ɔːlðˈoʊ ðeɪ hæd nˌɑːt jˈɛt lˈɔst ɐ sˈɪŋɡəl mˈæn, kʊd nˌɑːt ɹᵻzˈɪst ɐ mˈoʊmənt ʌv ɪnvˈɑːləntɚɹi pˈænɪk.