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I l'arned ter cure hides, an' temper steel, an' shoe horse-critters, so that pot mought be kep' a-b'ilin', an' 'Fambly' mought dine accordin' to thar humble way in them very humble days that somehow, gentlemen, I ain't got an' can't git the grace ter be 'shamed of yit." He paused abruptly as he concluded the recital of his speech, and wiped his face with the back of his hand.

All the homely secrets of rural life are ours: the taste of pie, cinnamon-flavored, from the dinner-pails at noon; the smell of "pears a-b'ilin'," at that happiest hour when, in the early dusk, we tumble into the kitchen, to find the table set and the stove redolent of warmth and savor.

"Of course," said she, "it isn't only findin' out what you be yourself, but it's lettin' other people see what you be. If you didn't do that it would be like a pot a-b'ilin' out in the middle of a prairie, with nobody nearer nor a hundred miles." "It would be the same as if it hadn't b'iled," remarked Matlack.

I'll swing the bow toward Heaven 'stead o' Hell an' keep her p'inted straight an' it won't cost ye a penny. They's too much swearin' on this 'ere ship. Can't nobody be a Christian with his guts a-b'ilin'. His tongue'll break loose an' make his soul look like a waggin with a smashed wheel an' a bu'sted ex. A cook could do more good here than a minister." "Can you cook?"

After she had propped him between two big spars, she lifted the cover of the tin pail. "Pigs' feet, as I'm alive, and hot cabbage, and the coffee a-b'ilin' too!" she said, turning to the boy and pulling out a tin flask with a screw top, the whole embedded in the smoking cabbage.

"He's so strong," said Hermione softly, her eyes shining. "But, Ann, what did you mean about about toothbrushes and socks?" "Mean? Why, socks an' toothbrushes, o' course. An' my land! here's me guzzlin' tea, an' over in my kitchen th' finest shin o' beef you ever saw a-b'ilin' f'r his supper. But now the question as burns is, if a married man this night, will he be here t' eat?