Why
the very sight of the Yankee gals is good for sore eyes, the dear
little critters! They do look so scrumptious, I tell you, with their
cheeks bloomin' like a red rose budded on a white one, and their eyes
like Mrs. Adams's diamonds (that folks say shine as well in the dark
as in the light), neck like a swan, lips chock full of kisses--lick!
It fairly makes one's mouth water to think on 'em. But it's no
use talkin', they are just made critters that's a fact, full of
health and life and beauty. Now, to change them 'ere splendid
white water-lillies of Connecticut and Rhode Island for the
yaller crocusses of Illanoy, is what we don't like. It goes most
confoundedly agin the grain, I tell you. Poor critters, when they get
away back there, they grow as thin as a sawed lath; their little
peepers are as dull as a boiled codfish; their skin looks like yaller
fever, and they seem all mouth like a crocodile. And that's not the
worst of it neither, for when a woman begins to grow saller it's
all over with her; she's up a tree then you may depend, there's no
mistake. You can no more bring back her bloom than you can the colour
to a leaf the frost has touched in the fall. It's gone goose with
her, that's a fact. And that's not all, for the temper is plaguy apt
to change with the cheek too. When the freshness of youth is on the
move, the sweetness of temper is amazin' apt to start along with it.
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