"'Tis a bad plan. There would be nobody left in the world to run errands for older sisters—it would never do."
"When little Rudolph was so fond of his vegetable friends," said Mary, "and found them so good, so sweet, so much to his taste, I thought of an account I had somewhere read, written, I think, by the witty Sydney Smith, of a conversation a new missionary in the South Sea islands held about his predecessor, who had been eaten by the cannibals. He asked the natives if they had known him—we will call him Mr. Brown, as it's rather fabulous. 'Mr. Brown? Oh yes! very good man—Mr. Brown! very good.' 'And did you know his family?' 'Oh yes! such sweet little children! so nice and tender! But Mrs. Brown was a bad woman—she was so very tough.' She was not to their taste."
"But, Cousin Ellen," said Amy, "I want to know about those vegetable friends of Rudolph. I know that Capsicum is a kind of pepper, and I have often met Nasturtium, crowned with his orange-flowers; I suppose, of course, that Solanum and Farinacea are potatoes—but who is that sharp Cochlearia, who told Solanum he was a mealy-mouthed fellow?"
"Horse-radish—which Solanum thought enough to bring tears into anybody's eyes."
"And Daucus—was he a carrot?"
"Yes; and Raphanus, with his brilliant complexion, was a radish. Maranta was arrow-root, Zea was Indian corn, and Brassica, a turnip—we often enjoy their society at table."
"I shall always think of Cochlearia when I eat horse-radish on my beef," said Charlie Bolton. "Especially when I take too much, by mistake."
"And when I find, to my sorrow, that potatoes have hearts I shall think of Solanum."