She was a sprightly ninetysomething.

And my povert' no wight nor can nor may Make comparison, it is no nay.

We […] got the brig a good bed in the rushing drift [of ice].

He is handing her a case, and says: / Good bye Liz! Here’s my daggero’ type likeness! I’d stand treat but I hain’t got the ghost of a red cent left, our uniforms is so very expensive—When I come back from Californy I’ll bring you a whole lot of little golden Jesusses and crosses! I will upon the honor of a soldier! /[…]/ References to “little golden Jesusses and crosses,” occur repeatedly.