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Updated: May 6, 2025
"I tell you, there is memories and joys and sorrows a clusterin' round that head, that I wouldn't swap for all the beauty and the treasures of the world. "Memories of happy mornin's dewy fresh, with cool summer breezes a comin' in through the apple-blows by the open door, and the light of the happy sunrise a shinin' on that old bald head, and then gleamin' off into my happy heart.
I don't reckon now there is a man among us who could be induced to blat or to butt, under the most tryin' circumstances. My Mary's got a little lamb, and all the rist of the boys are lambs. But all the lambs are waned, and clusterin' round the milk pail. Ain't that touchin'? Come on, now, Ruben, ile up and edify us some more!" "On what point do you seek enlightenment?" inquired the Thread Man.
"Now Ardelia is a sweet pretty lookin' girl, she can set down in a cushioned arm-chair by a happy fireside, with pretty baby faces a clusterin' around her and some man's face like the sun a reflectin' back the light of her happy heart. But she can't sit up on the pinnacle of fame's pillow. I don't believe she can ever get up there, I don't. Honestly speakin', I don't."
For the world like the days I spint with the pearlers, watchin' the coral banks a-growin' the same as so many gardens under the sea. There it was, the anchor-ice, clingin' an' clusterin' to ivery rock, after the manner of the white coral. 'But the best of the sight was to come.
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