Wall, she wuz a beautiful child—and every child has its pretty ways and its dretful curius ones, its angel traits and its tuther ones. Bless their sweet hearts, wherever they be! I love the hull on ’em, and can’t help it.
Boy wuz a layin’ in his little crib, and Genieve wuz a settin’ by it a mindin’ the child. And my son and daughter, Thomas Jefferson and Maggie, wuz a settin’ near each other (that is where they would always be if they had their own way).
Thomas J. was readin’ a little to her out of a new book that come in a box of books the night before, and Maggie wuz a sewin’ on a little white dress for Boy.
“A PERFECT DAGON.”
Cousin John Richard wuz partly a layin’ down on a bamboo couch with a lot of pillows to his back—he had had a dretful backache for a day or two. But he wuz a lookin’ some more comfortable than he had, and not quite so wan, but he wuz still fur wanner than I loved to see him. I myself wuz a knittin’ and occasionally a liftin’ my eyes to look over the path that led to the village, for my companion had walked down there to get a pair of new suspenders.
I knew it wuzn’t time for him to get back yet; but such is woman’s love, I kep’ watch of the track on which I expected to see the beloved form approachin’ bimeby.
That man is almost my idol.