Alice Wilde: The Raftsman's Daughter — page 60: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ALICE WILDE. Christian folks ’nuff to keep Chris’mas, even in de wilderness ; but what’s de use of cookin’ and cookin’ and dar’s Miss Alice don’t eat as much as dat frozen chick I brought in and put in dat basket by de fire.” “ But dar’s masser, he eat well ’nuff—and I—IT’se mighty hungry dese days. Don’t stop cookin’, Pallas.” “You hain’t got no more feelin’s den a common nigger, Saturn. Nobody ’d tink you was brought up in one de best families. If I could only tink of somethin’ new dat would coax up pickaninny’s appetite a little!” “P’raps she'll eat some my woodchuck pie,’ suggested Saturn. : | | It was a great self-denial for him to propose to share a dish which he usually reserved especially to himself, but he, too, | felt as tender as his organism would permit, toward his youthful mistress. “Our missus eat woodchuck pie! you go ‘long, Saturn; she wouldn’t stomach it. Dat’s nigger’s dish. I declar’ our chile begins to look jus’ as missus did de yom afore she died. I feel worried ’bout her.” “Does you? Mebbe she’s got de rheumatiz or de neu- rology. I got de rheumatiz bad myself dis week pas’. Wish you'd fix up some of yer liniment, wife.” “Wall, wall, eberybuddy has der troubles, even innocen’ ones like our chile. Dis is a wicked and a perwerse genera- tion, and dat is de reason our woods tuk fire and our house burn up; and now our dear chile mus’ go break her heart ‘pout somebody as won’t say wedder he lubs her or not. She'll go of consumption jes’ as missus went. Lor’! who’d a thought our family wud ever come to sech anend? I re- member when Mortimer Moore kep’ up de plantation in gran’ style fore he sol’ ebery buddy but you and I, Saturn, and kep’ us cause we wouldn’t leab de family, and tuk us to New York. Mebbe it was wicked of me to take sides with my young missus, and help her to get married way she did, and run ’way wid her, and see to her tru thick and thin. But I see her die, and now, likely, Pll be resarbed to see her chile die. Dun know what poor old woman lib for to bury all ber children for. When I tink of all de mince-pies and de chicken-pies I use to make, and see eat, for Chris’mas, I don’t feel no heart for to lif’ dis choppin’-knife anodder time.” comicbooks.com