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Updated: June 27, 2025
Dooley to th' modhren improvements iv th' corset an' th' hat with th' blue bur-rd onto it, an' put shame into her because she hasn't let her feet grow, while th' head mission'ry reads me a pome out iv th' Northwesthren Christyan Advocate. 'Well, says I, 'look here, me good fellow, I says.
His mind finally seemed to run to sumptuous dinners, and he would invite eight or ten of his prison companions to dine with him at a certain hour, and upon their arrival, they would find perhaps a half baked corn meal pome, that had been cooked in a dirty old wash basin, over a smoky fire, having been mixed up without salt or rising of any kind, to be the princely spread he had invited them to.
"Thank ye," returned Peggy, pocketing the silver. "It ain't what I expected, but " "But what, sir?" "But it's like findin' it, for I didn't expect nuth'n'. I wish I could do more of 'em at the same price; but I did thet pome when I were young an' hed more ambition. I couldn't think of another like it to save my neck." "I am glad of that, Peggy. One of this kind is all a paper dare print.
Having now served an apprenticeship of about four months as cook for the mess, I flattered myself that I was qualified to take charge of any first class restaurant as chief cook and bottle washer, and I would bring my corn pome on the table, with all the pride with which a young wife, would present her best efforts at cooking to a tea party.
An' I know where to use the money, Peggy, ev'ry dollar of it, whether it's thirty er fifty." Peggy sighed. "I writ a pome once," he said. "Wonder ef they'd pay fer a pome?" "What were it like?" asked Skim curiously. "It went someth'n' this way," said Peggy: "I sigh Ter fly Up high In the sky. But my Wings is shy, So I mus' cry Good-bye Ter fly- in'." "Shoo!" said Skim disdainfully.
Fust thing you're stompin' around in your head upsettin' all that you writ tryin' to rope somethin' to put on the tail-end of the parade that'll show up strong. Kind o' like ropin' a steer. No tellin' where that pome is goin' to land you." Sundown was more than pleased with himself.
"Makes me feel like writin' a pome! Now, mebby " "Haven't time, now. Got to scare up two more witnesses to go on your paper. There's a place, just opening up." They crossed the street. Next to the barbershop was a saloon. Sundown eyed the sign pensively. "I ain't a drinkin' man regular," he said, "but there are times . . ."
''Tis me hat, he says; an', makin a low bow to th' aujience, he fell to th' flure so hard that his nose fell off an' rowled down on Mike Finnegan. 'I don't like th' play, says Finnegan, 'an' I'll break ye'er nose, he says; an' he done it. He's a wild divvle. Hogan thried to rayturn th' compliment on th' sidewalk afterward; but he cudden't think iv a pome, an' Finnegan done him."
The Higginses lost a darned good friend when Bill died. Bill wrote a pome 'bout their old dog Towze when he wuz run over by Watkins's hay-wagon seven years ago. I'll bet that pome is in every scrap-book in the county. You couldn't read that pome without cryin', why, that pome w'u'd hev brought a dew out on the desert uv Sary.
In order to have them light, we would mix up a quart or so of corn meal in cold water, and set in the sun to sour. The pome was then mixed in the same way, stirring in a little of this sour rising and adding a little soda. This sour meal was kept on hand, so as to have enough for three or four days ahead.
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