“Here’s Deacon Samuel Phillips.  He married ma’s greatuncle Myron’s widow, but I don’t know what relation that makes him t’ us.  He’s an awful good man, but clost.  Pa says onct he got an awful jolt t’ Chicago, where him and some other men went t’ sell their stock.  It seems that after they got their tradin’ done they went down town t’ one of them stylish hotels fer dinner.  Deacon hadn’t never been in one of them places before and didn’t know nothin’ ’bout ‘m.  There was breaded veal cutlets on th’ bill-of-fare and Deacon liked ’m, so he ordered ’m, along with a lot of other stuff, without noticin’ th’ price.  Bimeby th’ bill come, and it was fer two-fifty.  ‘Two-fifty!’ the deacon hollers.  ’Why Heck! man, I kin buy a calf fer that money!’ he says.

“Turn over.”

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“Ma’s cousins, Delmer and Beezum Morse.  ‘Th’ Sausage Brothers,’ pa calls ’m, ’count of their shape.  But they’re awful stout, and good rasslers, both of ’m, ‘specially th’ littlest one, Delmer.  Onct him and Beezum got t’ rasslin’ in th’ parlor and Delmer throwed Beezum in th’ coal box and broke his rib.”

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“That’s pa’s Aunt Amanda Merritt Burrows.  Me and my brother Frank allus run and hide when we see her comin’, ’cause she allus kisses a feller and wants ‘m t’ pick her some berries, or somethin’.  That’s her long suit, though, as pa says—­berries.  Pa says she won’t be happy in parrydise without they’ve got berries there; says he bets there’ll be a great old scramblin’ amongst th’ angels, too, t’ keep from gittin’ kissed.

“Turn over.”

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“Ed and Charley Peters, pa’s cousins down t’ Peory.  They’re th’ stylishest relations we got.”

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“Wilbur Peebles, that is.  He’s ma’s cousin.  Ain’t he got funny hair?  One time he went t’ sleep in meetin’ and pa took and done up his hair weth yalluh ribbons off’m cigars.  Pa says Wilbur looked awful comical—­jist like a horse’s mane at th’ fair.  And Wilbur’s awful absent minded.  Onct he was t’ our house alone and he decided he’d go down town, so he left a note t’ let ma know.  It said, ’Gone down town.  Will be back at five.  Have hid key under mat.’  Wasn’t that silly?

“Turn over.”

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“That’s my little cousin, Johnnie Aiken, down t’ Brimfield.  Ain’t he cute?  He’s jist th’ worst little feller t’ ast questions yuh ever see.  And th’ funniest ones!  Onct th’ persidin’ elder was t’ their house and he hadn’t no more’n said th’ blessin’ till Johnnie ups and says, ’Say, pa, how fur kin a cat spit?’ he says.”

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“That’s Aunt Minervy Hopkins, pa’s aunt.  She believed in sperrits.

“Turn over.”

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“Uncle Jed Doty and his wife, Aunt Phoebe.  He’s ma’s half-brother and he’s an awful good singer.  Ust t’ travel weth Doc Lighthall.  He’s handsome, too, I think; but Aunt Phoebe ain’t very.  Ma says she ust t’ be awful purty till after she had th’ rheumatism s’ bad, but pa says he guesses she must a-had it before ever he see her.”