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Updated: May 17, 2025


D, though he writes and speaks French admirably, does not love French verses; and I found he could not depend on the government of his features, while a French poet was reciting his own, but kept his eyes fixed on a dried apple, which he pared very curiously, and when that was atchieved, betook himself to breaking pralines, and extracting the almonds with equal application.

Ah, ma'amzelle, you buy? S'il vous plait, ma'amzelle, ces pralines, dey be fine, ver' fresh. "Mais non, maman, you are not sure? "Sho', chile, ma bebe, ma petite, she put dese up hissef. He's hans' so small, ma'amzelle, lak you's, mais brune. She put dese up dis morn'. You tak' none? No husban' fo' you den! "Ah, ma petite, you tak'? Cinq sous, bebe, may le bon Dieu keep you good!

H'it fall in de Meesseesip, an' fill up up so, clean to de levee, den we have big crivasse, an' po' Tante Marie float away. Bon jour, madame, you come again? Pralines! Pralines!"

"I have just found out," it ran, "that Mammy Easter will be unable to furnish her usual pralines and Christmas sweets to her Warwick Hall customers this year. Why don't you try your hand at that Mexican candy Lloyd mentioned. If the girls once get a taste it will be 'advertised by its loving friends' and you can sell quantities.

Oh, madame, it mos' brek my po' heart. I burn candle in St. Rocque, I say my beads, I sprinkle holy water roun' he's bed; he jes' lay so, he's eyes turn up, he say 'Maman, maman, den he die! Madame, you tak' one. Non, non, no l'argent, you tak' one fo' my lil' boy's sake. "Pralines, pralines, m'sieu? Who mak' dese? My lil' gal, Didele, of co'se.

But once a week those who pined for candy could make it over the gas-stove in the Domestic Science kitchen. Those who were too lazy to make it could buy it Monday afternoons from Mammy Easter, an old coloured woman who lived in a cabin on the place. She was famous for her pralines, the sophomore declared. "We have jolly charades and impromptu tableaux up in the gymnasium sometimes.

I've heard of New Orleans pralines all my life, so I got some today and now they've disappeared." "They were probably included in that last arm-load of parcels I stowed in the car. Are you through?" Ricky looked into her coffee-cup. "It's empty, so I guess I am. Where is the car? I'm so lost I don't know where we are now."

One paused at the entrance, and gazed with swift longing eyes in the direction of narrow, squalid Chartres Street, then, with a gulping sob, followed the rest, and vanished behind the heavy door. The praline woman sits by the side of the Archbishop's quaint little old chapel on Royal Street, and slowly waves her latanier fan over the pink and brown wares. "Pralines, pralines.

Albina imagined that he had had words with the captain or somebody, and did not bother him with questions. After she had cleared the table, she sat down to read the sensational feuilleton of the local daily paper, eating pralines all the while. Then she performed her evening toilet and went to bed. It was not yet nine o'clock; but that did not matter. She liked lying in bed.

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