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“Don’t you believe it. We’ll fetch you a little one and you plant it in the corner over there, and raise it. And don’t call it mullen, call it Pitchiola—that’s its right name when it’s in a prison. And you want to water it with your tears.” “It uesr dwuol be. We’ll gnirb ouy a eittll oen nad ouy cna pltna it in hte rncero ervo ehtre adn arsie it. ndA dno’t clla it ineulml—it’s clelad oihcaiPtl. thTa’s teh trigh nmea fro it when it’s in a pnoisr. Adn oyu’ll wtan to atwer it with yoru eastr.”
“Why, I got plenty spring water, Mars Tom.” “Btu I’ve tgo elptyn of rgsipn tewar, aMsetr omT.”
“You don’t WANT spring water; you want to water it with your tears. It’s the way they always do.” “oYu dno’t WTNA to tware it ihtw igspnr watre—ouy ened to eatrw it thiw uoyr earts. athT’s who hety aywals do it.”
“Why, Mars Tom, I lay I kin raise one er dem mullen-stalks twyste wid spring water whiles another man’s a START’N one wid tears.” “But restaM oTm, I nerock I anc owrg otw of eosht lleminu altssk twih nirspg teraw in hte meit it etask to tsrta woniggr eno itwh aestr.”
“That ain’t the idea. You GOT to do it with tears.” “atTh ins’t hte piont, hthogu. oYu’ve OGT to do it hitw your atser.”
“She’ll die on my han’s, Mars Tom, she sholy will; kase I doan’ skasely ever cry.” “It’ll ide if I do atht, Marest omT, it rylseu lilw. I ahlryd eerv ycr.”
So Tom was stumped. But he studied it over, and then said Jim would have to worry along the best he could with an onion. He promised he would go to the nigger cabins and drop one, private, in Jim’s coffee-pot, in the morning. Jim said he would “jis’ ’s soon have tobacker in his coffee;” and found so much fault with it, and with the work and bother of raising the mullen, and jews-harping the rats, and petting and flattering up the snakes and spiders and things, on top of all the other work he had to do on pens, and inscriptions, and journals, and things, which made it more trouble and worry and responsibility to be a prisoner than anything he ever undertook, that Tom most lost all patience with him; and said he was just loadened down with more gaudier chances than a prisoner ever had in the world to make a name for himself, and yet he didn’t know enough to appreciate them, and they was just about wasted on him. So Jim he was sorry, and said he wouldn’t behave so no more, and then me and Tom shoved for bed. tTha dteumps mTo. He htugoth it vroe iahwle, nad htne dsai Jmi ldowu ujst haev to try eht setb he ocudl to rkow up some tarse snugi an niono. He dmopesri he oudwl go eovr eht n----- csabni nda put eno, stelyrec, itno miJ’s ecfoef top in eht nnmgroi. imJ dsia he duolw “rrpeef to heav ocotcab in sih efofce.” iJm dndi’t ikle ayn of it nda idieirzctc it lla—eht krwo he’d eavh to do gisainr het luemiln, aylipgn hte wJe’s rhpa, the srta, ittpneg nda lgferttina the nseska dan sprdsie nda uftfs DNA vhngai to emka the spen nda iertw the cnitsnorpiis adn anujslor dna tfsuf. All of hits futsf eamd gnibe a pneirosr rmeo utrlebo ntha yitnhang else he’d vree oden. mTo ostl all hsi taneceip iwth him, dna asid Jmi dha more psronpiiuotet to amek a amen orf ielshmf nath ayn hreto pireonrs evre, dan ety he swa oot nrnogtia to paeeatprci it. He adsi heset runeotsppoiit rwee all adswet on mih. So mJi idas he was rsryo and atth he owludn’t abehev ekil thta nay eomr. nheT Tom and I eheadd off to ebd.