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Updated: May 12, 2025
These things is jest general notions to kep in your head fer ord'nary guidance. Kids' clothes needs washin' every Monday with soap. Mebbe you'll need to wash every day if kids is frolicsome. Bow-ties is for Sunday wear. Girl's hair needs braidin' every night, an' don't leave chewin' t'baccer around. Kids is sure to eat it.
You'll get right to Meetin' on Sundays with your boots greased elegant, an' your pants darned reg'lar by your wimmin-folk wot's proud of yer, an' don't kick when you blow into a natty game o' 'draw. You'll have your kids lookin' up at your fancy iled locks, an' your bow-tie, an' in their little minds they'll wonder an' wonder how it come your mouths ain't drippin' t'baccer juice, an' how they ain't got cow-hided 'fore the breakfast they mostly have to guess at, an' how it come you're leadin' them, 'stead o' them leadin' you, an' how their little bellies is blown out with grub like a litter o' prize hogs.
"I puts t'baccer on cuts sometimes and she always helps un," insisted Lem. "It's simply through the mercy of God, then, and your good clean blood, that it hasn't killed you," declared Doctor Joe. From his kit Doctor Joe brought forth bandages and gauze and some strange-looking instruments, and turned his attention to the shoulder.
All that is necessary is to keep it clean and keep it properly bandaged to protect it from infection." "Wouldn't a bit of wet t'baccer draw the soreness out?" Lem suggested. "No! No! No!" protested Doctor Joe, properly horrified. "Never put tobacco or anything else on a wound. If you do you will run the risk of infection which might result in blood poisoning, which might kill you."
As he drew near, the pedestrian ceased to whistle, and, just as the farmer expected him to pass, he stopped and said, in a free and easy style: "How de do? Give me a chaw t'baccer. I'm Pill, the new minister. I take fine-cut when I can get it," he said, as Bacon put his hand into his pocket. "Much obliged. How goes it?"
As he drew near, the pedestrian ceased to whistle, and, just as the farmer expected him to pass, he stopped and said, in a free and easy style: "How de do? Give me a chaw t'baccer. I'm Pill, the new minister. I take fine-cut when I can get it," he said, as Bacon put his hand into his pocket. "Much obliged. How goes it?"
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