It is the mind that makes the marcy, and not always the
deed. But you can never find the food of a pale-face kitchen out
here in the Openings of Michigan. When a body comes to reckon up all
the good things of Ameriky, she don't know where to begin, or where
to stop. I miss tea as much as anything. And milk comes next. Then
there's buckwheat and coffee--though things may be found in the
woods to make coffee of, but tea has no substitute. Then, I like
wheaten bread, and butter, and potatoes, and many other such
articles, that I was used to all my life, until I came out here,
close to sunset. As for pies and custards, I can't bear to think of
'em now!"
Pigeonswing looked intently at the woman, as she carefully
enumerated her favorites among the dishes of her home-kitchen. When
she had ended, he raised a finger, looked still more significantly
at her, and said:
"Why don't go back, get all dem good t'ings? Better for pale-face to
eat pale-face food, and leave Injin Injin food."
"For my part, Pigeonswing, I wish such had ever been the law.
Venison, and prairie-fowls, and wild ducks, and trout, arid bear's
meat, and wild pigeons, and the fish that are to be found in these
western rivers, are all good for them that was brought up on 'em,
but they tire an eastern palate dreadfully.
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