They vegitate like a lettuce plant in
sarse garden, they grow tall and, spindlin', run to seed right off,
grow as bitter as gaul and die."
"A gal once came to our minister to hire as a house-help; says she,
'Minister, I suppose you don't want a young lady to do chamber
business and breed worms do you? For I've half a mind to take a spell
of livin' out.' She meant," said the Clockmaker, "house work and
rearing silk-worms. 'My pretty maiden,' says he, a-pattin' her on the
cheek (for I've often observed old men always talk kinder pleasant
to young women), 'my pretty maiden where was you brought up?' 'Why,'
says she, 'I guess I warn't brought up at all, I growed up.' 'Under
what platform,' says he (for he was very particular that all his
house-helps should go to his meetin'), 'under what Church platform?'
'Church platform!' says she, with a toss of her head, like a young
colt that's got a check of the curb, 'I guess I warn't raised under a
platform at all, but in as good a house as your'n, grand as you be.'
'You said well,' said the old minister, quite shocked, 'when you said
you growed up, dear, for you have grown up in great ignorance.' 'Then
I guess you had better get a lady that knows more than me,' says she,
'that's flat. I reckon I am every bit and grain as good as you be. If
I don't understand a bum-byx (silk-worm), both feedin', breedin', and
rearin', then I want to know who does, that's all; church platform
indeed!' says she; 'I guess you were raised under a glass frame in
March, and transplanted on Independence day, warn't you?' And off
she sot, lookin' as scorney as a London lady, and leavin' the poor
minister standin' starin' like a stuck pig.
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