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Scant as the food had been at Isom's until his revolt had forced a revision of the old man's lifelong standard, Joe felt that morning after his second jail breakfast that he would have welcomed even a hog-jowl and beans.
"If the Company'd only get some cherry bark an' whiskey" "At dinner," said Mrs Carewe, stroking her chin "we had some sour-kraut she eat right pe'rtly of that kinder seemed lak a appetizer to her. She mixed it with biled cabbage an' et right pe'rtly of it." "An' some mo' buttermilk it kinder cools my stomach," whined Miss Samantha. "An' hog-jowl, an' corn-bread anything else Maw?"
For dinner there was hog-jowl and beans, bitter with salt, yellow with salt, but apparently greatly to the liking of Isom, whose natural food seemed to be the very essence of salt. "Help yourself, eat plenty," he invited Joe. Jowls and beans were cheap; he could afford to be liberal with that meal. Generosity in regard to that five-year-old jowl cost him scarcely a pang.
"Now, if anybody'll study Nature," she would say, "they'll see she never cal'c'lated to fetch us here 'ithout makin' 'lowance fur to feed us. The fus' thing that comes up is dandelions an' I don't want to stick my tooth in anything that's better than dandelion greens biled with hog-jowl. I like a biled dinner any way.
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