"'Now, Sorrow,' said she, 'he ought to ab used milk; all fish soups
ought to be made o' milk, and den tickened wid flour.'
"'Why in course, Missus,' sais I, 'dat is de way you and me always
likes it.'
"'It has made me quite ill,' said she.
"'So it ab nearly killed me, Missus,' sais I, puttin' my hand on my
stomach, 'I ab such a pain down here, I tink sometimes I shall die.'
"'Well, you look ill, Uncle Sorrow,' she said, and she went to her
dressin'-case, and took a little small bottle (covered ober wid
printed words), 'Take some o' dis,' said she, and she poured me out
bout dis much (filling his glass again), 'take dat, it will do you
good.'
"'Is it berry bad to swaller,' sais I, 'Missus? I is most afeard it
will spile the 'finement of my taste.'
"'Try it,' sais she, and I shut to my eyes, and made awful long face,
and swallowed it jist dis way.
"'By golly,' sais I, 'Missus, but dat is grand. What is dat?'
"'Clove, water,' said she.
"'Oh, Missus,' sais I, 'dat is plaguy trong water, dat are a fac, and
bery nice flavoured. I wish in my heart we had a nice spring ob it to
home. Wouldn't it be grand, for dis is a bery thirsty niggar, dat are
a fac. Clam pie, Massa, is first chop, my missus ambitioned it some
punkins.'
"Well, how do you make it?"
"Dere is seberal ways, Massa. Sometime we used one way and sometime
anoder.
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