When the holidays came round the thoughts of ‘Liza Ann Lewis always turned to the good times that she used to have at home
when, following the precedent of anti-bellum days, Christmas lasted all the week and good cheer held sway. She remembered
with regret the gifts that were given, the songs that were sung to the tinkling of the banjo and the dances with which they
beguiled the night hours. And the eating! Could she forget it? The great turkey, with the fat literally bursting from him;
the yellow yam melting into deliciousness in the mouth; or in some more fortunate season, even the juicy ‘possum grinning
in brown and greasy death from the great platter.
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