Beautiful Rienzi; or, The secret vendetta — page 155: what you’re looking at

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

150 BEAUTIFUL RIENZI. bench for the other side of the porch, Mrs. Haller. We shall hold our conference there. How hungry I am!” ‘Dear heart alive! What would you like, miss? Some bread and nice sweet-milk fresh from butter-cups?” ‘‘ Infusion of butter-cups?” ‘* Lor! there ain’t many butter-cups like my big black cow!” | ‘‘Oh!—liss itself, signora! Better than the richest gob- let of wine expressed from grapes grown on the sunniest plank of Vesuvius!” ‘Did you say ‘ yes,’ miss?” “Most decidedly, my friend. And may I have a tumbler for my sister? Ah, thank you! you are kind. But I shall explore a little longer before I awake her. Where does this lead to?” ‘‘Into the hack yard, where the kitchen-stuff is; and yonder’s the stable; ‘and this court is for everything—chop- ping, feeding fowls, cleaning vegetables, and all.” “Ts kitchen-stuff fish, flesh, or fowl—mineral, vegetable, or nondescript, my dear Mrs. Haller?” ‘‘Law sakes, I don’t know! only it’s the grass and stuff, and the apple-sass, and such-like. Would you like to see the chickens? Just open the door of that log-house and look into a half-barrel at them.” ** Shades of Diogenes! juvenile philosophers! What little fuzzy things! Oh, you pet! You are the king of them, with your little broad Dill and twinkling eyes!” «¢That’s the only chicking out of a brood of thirteen. Do you like hop-beer, miss?” “Very likely Ido. I never saw any.” “Not! You shall have a drink of it this very day. Why, where was you raised, I wonder?” ‘““Not on hop-yeast, you may be sure, my friend. Oh! there is the well! What a heavy, moss-grown bucket; and how cool the air is when I put my head down!” “Goodness gracious! Don’t fallin. See—are you fond of posies? Would you hke to make a tisty-tosty of cow- slips? There’s lots back there in the old orchard.” To the old woman’s evident relief, I left the vicinity of the well, and ran through a wicket-gate into a little forest of old gnarled apple and peach trees. All at once I came upon an old man who was rolling down the grass with a heavy stone roller, and so intently CONMIC DOO S (©)