us niver thought about that beautiful but fragile flower excipt
biled in conniction with pigs' feet or pickled in its own life
juice. We didn't know that upon th' Beet hangs th' fate iv th'
nation, th' hope iv th' future, th' permanence iv our instichoochions
an' a lot iv other things akelly precious. Th' Beet is th' naytional
anthem an', be hivins, it looks as though it might be th' naytional
motto befure long.

"Well, Cubia got her freedom or something that wud look like th'
same thing if she kept it out iv th' rain, but somehow or another
it didn't suit her entirely. A sort iv cravin' come over her that
it was hard to tell fr'm th' same feelin' iv vacancy that she knew
whin she was opprissed be th' Hated Casteel. Hunger, Hinnissy,
is about th' same thing in a raypublic as in a dispotism. They'se
not much choice iv unhappiness between a hungry slave an' a hungry
freeman. Cubia cudden't cuk or wear freedom. Ye can't make freedom
into a stew an' ye can't cut a pair iv pants out iv it. It won't
bile, fry, bake or fricassee. Ye can't take two pounds iv fresh
creamery freedom, a pound iv north wind, a heapin' taycupfull iv
naytional aspirations an' a sprinklin' iv bars fr'm th' naytional
air, mix well, cuk over a hot fire an' sarve sthraight fr'm th'
shtove; ye can't make a dish out iv that that wud nourish a tired
freeman whin he comes home afther a hard day's wurruk lookin' f'r
a job. So Cubia comes te us an' says she: 'Ye done well by us,'
she says. 'Ye give us freedom,' says she, 'an' more thin enough
to go round,' she says, 'an' now if ye plaze we'd like to thrade
a little iv it bhack f'r a few groceries,' she says. 'We will
wear wan shackle f'r a ham,' says she, 'an' we'll put on a full
raygalia iv ball an' chain an' yoke an' fetters an' come-alongs
f'r a square meal,' says she.