I give John Richard a good dose of spignut syrup, for he complained of a sore throat, and he wuz hoarse as a frog. Good land! I should have thought he would be, talkin’ as much as he had, and eloquent too.
Eloquence is dretful tuckerin’; I know well its effects on the system, though mebby I hadn’t ort to be the one to say it.
Wall, in the mornin’ Cousin John Richard wuz weak as a cat. All tired out. He couldn’t hardly get round. And I made him lay down on the lounge in the settin’ room, and I give him spignut syrup once a hour most all day, and kep’ him warm, and lumps of maple sugar for his cough.
And by night he seemed like a new man—that spignut syrup is wonderful; few people know the properties of it.
Wall, Josiah and I both took such a likin’ to that good onselfish eloquent creeter that we prevailed on him to stay a week with us right along.
And we took him to see the children, and Josiah took him up to Uncle Thomas’es, and Cousin Sophronia’s on his own side, and we done well by him.
And I fixed up his clothes with Philury’s help—they wuz good ones, but they needed a woman. But we mended ’em and rubbed ’em up with ammonia where it wuz needed, and they wuz in good condition when he went back to his work.
Good land! wild oxen, nor camels, nor nuthin’ couldn’t have kep’ him from that “field” of hisen.
But when it come the mornin’ for him to leave, he hated to go—hated to like a dog.
And we hated to have him go, we liked him the best that ever wuz. And we tried to make him promise to come to see us agin. But he seemed to feel dubersome about it; he said he would have to go where his work called him.