Hank. Waal, cap, this ere’s corn-pone, o’ coose; and a dodger or so; a slice o’ bacon; a helter-skelter; some succotash; two frog’s legs pealed and sizzled; a pigeon biled in milk; some baked punkin; eel’s tails soused; and some no-cake.
Capt. M. What! what! what! Are you going to stuff me to death, or poison me—which?
Hank. Oh, sir! you needn’t eat ’em all. The Injuns said if you eat just the right thing for you, you’d be sure to get well.
Capt. M. I dare say. They’d cure a dog with their charms and their notions.
Hank. Some of the vittals is good, and some pretty middlin’ poor, but it’s all good for suthin’,— or the pigs!
Capt. M. (laughing). I shouldn’t wonder. (Looking over the waiter.) What’s baked punkin for, Hank? It looks like raw, dried potato-parings.
Hank. The Indians said ’twas to chaw, and give you an appetite.
Mary (from the wheel-house). What in the world are the soused eel’s-tails for?
Hank. Oh, to make you feel lively, and cherk you up a little. They make brains.
Capt. M. What next? What’s the no-cake for, and where is it? Cake sounds kind o’ good. And hot biscuit. Mother’s hot biscuit! Oh! how I should like some of them.