The whole of the corn offal is better food than wheat straw, but its blades and tops are so greatly superiour, that cattle prefer them to hay, and will fatten on them as well.
The intern will not call me 'Cornelius―(in fact, that dowdy old name isn't my actual name nor, at the present time, my nom de guerre)―but 'Dr. Hinton*―or 'sir'―will do.
[…] my mother [is] no longer called a quadroon; I am not called an octoroon, my children will not be named mustifees and my grandchildren will not be mustifinos.
I have bread, mayonnaise, mustard, turkey, and lettuce: all the makings of a sandwich as far as I'm concerned.
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