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1If Emmeline Grangerford could make poetry like that before she was fourteen, there ain't no telling what she could a
2done by-and-by. Buck said she could rattle off poetry like nothing. She didn't ever have to stop to think. He said she
3would slap down a line, and if she couldn't find anything to rhyme with it would just scratch it out and slap down
4another one, and go ahead. She warn't particular; she could write about anything you choose to give her to write about
5just so it was sadful. Every time a man died, or a woman died, or a child died, she would be on hand with her "tribute"
6before he was cold. She called them tributes. The neighbors said it was the doctor first, then Emmeline, then the
7undertaker--the undertaker never got in ahead of Emmeline but once, and then she hung fire on a rhyme for the dead
8person's name, which was Whistler. She warn't ever the same after that; she never complained, but she kinder pined away
9and did not live long. Poor thing, many's the time I made myself go up to the little room that used to be hers and get
10out her poor old scrap-book and read in it when her pictures had been aggravating me and I had soured on her a little. I
11liked all that family, dead ones and all, and warn't going to let anything come between us. Poor Emmeline made poetry
12about all the dead people when she was alive, and it didn't seem right that there warn't nobody to make some about her
13now she was gone; so I tried to sweat out a verse or two myself, but I couldn't seem to make it go somehow. They kept
14Emmeline's room trim and nice, and all the things fixed in it just the way she liked to have them when she was alive,
15and nobody ever slept there. The old lady took care of the room herself, though there was plenty of niggers, and she
16sewed there a good deal and read her Bible there mostly. Well, as I was saying about the parlor, there was beautiful
17curtains on the windows: white, with pictures painted on them of castles with vines all down the walls, and cattle
18coming down to drink. There was a little old piano, too, that had tin pans in it, I reckon, and nothing was ever so
19lovely as to hear the young ladies sing "The Last Link is Broken" and play "The Battle of Prague" on it. The walls of
20all the rooms was plastered, and most had carpets on the floors, and the whole house was whitewashed on the outside. It
21was a double house, and the big open place betwixt them was roofed and floored, and sometimes the table was set there in
22the middle of the day, and it was a cool, comfortable place. Nothing couldn't be better. And warn't the cooking good,
23and just bushels of it too!
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