“I _wuz_ a readin’,” says Josiah drawin’ on his boots.
“I have ketched you laughin’ over a funeral sermon, and a President’s message, what is there highlarious in a funeral sermon Josiah Allen? What is there exhileratin’ in a President’s message?”
“Wall,” says he, “I guess I’ll water the steers.”
“I should think you had better,” says I coolly, and after he went out, Betsey resumed,
“Josiah Allen’s wife, I still say it is not woman’s speah to vote,” and she continued, “I have got a few verses in my pocket, which I composed that night aftah I returned from the lecture, which embody into them the feelings of my soul concerning woman’s speah. I went to my chamber, and let down my back haih, and took out my teeth, I always feel more free somehow, and poetic, with my hair down and my teeth out, and there I wrote these stanzeys, and seeing it is you, I will read them to you.”
My firm and cast iron principles forbid my wishin’ in a reckless way that I wasn’t myself, and I was in my own house, and horspitality forbid my orderin’ her in stern accents, not to read a word of ’em, so I submitted, and she read as follows:
Last night as I meandered out To meditate apart, Secluded in my parasol, Deep subjects shook my heart. The earth, the skies, the prattling brooks, All thundered in my ear, “It is matrimony! it is matrimony That is a woman’s speah.”
Day with a red shirred bonnet on, Had down for China started, Its yellow ribbons fluttered o’er Her head, as she departed; She seemed to wink her eyes on me, As she did dissapeah; And say, “It is matrimony, Betsey, That is a woman’s speah.”
A rustic had broke down his team; I mused almost in teahs, “How can a yoke be borne along By half a pair of steers?” Even thus in wrath did nature speak, “Heah! Betsey Bobbet, heah! It is matrimony! it is matrimony That is a woman’s speah.”
I saw a paih of roses Like wedded pardners grow; Sharp thorns did pave thier mortal path, Yet sweetly did they blow; They seemed to blow these _glorious_ words, Into my _willing_ eah; “It is matrimony! it is matrimony That is a woman’s speah.”
Two gentle sheep upon the hills; How sweet the twain did run, As I meandered gently on And sot down on a stun; They seemed to murmur sheepishly, “Oh Betsey Bobbet deah, It is matrimony! it is matrimony That is a woman’s speah.”