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Updated: May 23, 2025
"Hogs or dogs," said I, "whole, with their heads on do you mean that?" "Yes, Massa, dis here child do, of a sartainty." "Hogs like the pig, and dogs like the Newfoundlander at the door?" "Oh, no, Massa, in course it don't stand to argument ob reason it was. Oh, no, it was quadogs and quahogs clams, you know. We calls 'em down South, for shortness, hogs and dogs.
Oh! my lads, do spring slap-jacks and quahogs for supper, you know, my lads baked clams and muffins oh, do, do, spring, he's a hundred barreler don't lose him now don't oh, don't! see that Yarman Oh, won't ye pull for your duff, my lads such a sog! such a sogger! Don't ye love sperm? There goes three thousand dollars, men! a bank! a whole bank! The bank of England! Oh, do, do, do!
They first caught crabs and quahogs in the sand; grown bolder, they waded out with nets for mackerel; more experienced, they pushed off in boats and captured cod; and at last, launching a navy of great ships on the sea, explored this watery world; put an incessant belt of circumnavigations round it; peeped in at Behring's Straits; and in all seasons and all oceans declared everlasting war with the mightiest animated mass that has survived the flood; most monstrous and most mountainous!
"Old Tin-Back dug 'em this mornin' at low tide. Nothin' like quahogs for chowder, though some folks likes soft clams. But not for Old Tin-Back." "Is is that really your name?" asked Amy. "Wa'al not really, miss. It's a sort of nickname. You see, I sell clams, lobsters and crabs, but I don't never sell no tin-back crabs, and so they sorter got in the habit of callin' me that."
"Leastways they all calls me that. I'll take them grips," he went on, as the girls advanced, and into his gnarled hands he gathered the valises. "Oh, what a delicious smell!" exclaimed Mollie, as they went up the steps. "That's th' chowder," chuckled the old lobsterman. "I reckoned it'd be tasty. Plenty of quahogs in that." "What?" gasped Amy. "Quahogs big clams, miss," he explained.
Oh! my lads, DO spring slap-jacks and quahogs for supper, you know, my lads baked clams and muffins oh, DO, DO, spring, he's a hundred barreller don't lose him now don't oh, DON'T! see that Yarman Oh, won't ye pull for your duff, my lads such a sog! such a sogger! Don't ye love sperm? There goes three thousand dollars, men! a bank! a whole bank! The bank of England!
"That feller's not oysterin'," the captain answered; "he's rakin' quahogs." "Quahogs?" "That's clams," was the explanation; "the right name for what the people down in New York call a 'little-neck clam. The 'neck' is a foot, and it's little because the quahog doesn't burrow deep. The long or soft clam does." "And he just pulls them up with a rake?"
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