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of the last bag of seeds that I overhauled.

But Submit had been disappointed, and I didn't want to make her burdens any heavier, so I sent her the sturchien seeds.

But it wuz a trial I do admit to look over more than forty bags of garden and flower seeds in such a time as that. But I sent 'em. I sent Submit the sturchien seeds, and then I laid to work again fast as I possibly could.

But I sez to the author of “Peaceful Repose,” I sez to her, sez I:

“I feel bad to think I hain't gettin' no time to hear you rehearse your lecture, but you can see jest how it is; you see I hain't had a minute's time today. Mebby I will get a few minutes' time before night; I will try to,” sez I.

“Oh,” sez she, “it hain't no matter about that; I—I—I somehow—I don't feel like rehearsin' it as it was.” Sez she, “I guess I shall make some changes in it before I rehearse it agin.”

Sez I, “You lay out to make a more mean thing of it, more megum.”

“Yes,” sez she, in faint axents, “I am a-thinkin' of it.”



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“Wall,” sez I cheerfully, as I started for the buttery with a pile of cups in one hand, the castor and pickle dish in the other, and a pile of napkins under my arm, “I believe I shall like it as well again if you do, any way,” sez I, as I kicked away the cat that wuz a-clawin' my dress, and opened the door with my foot, both hands bein' full.

“Any way, there will be as much agin truth in it.”

Wall, I went to work voyalently, and in two hours' time I had got my work quelled down some. But I had to strain nearly every nerve in the effort.

And I am afraid I didn't use the colporter just exactly right, who come when I wuz right in the midst of puttin' the ingregiences into my tea cakes. I didn't enter so deep into the argument about the Revised New Testament as I should in easier and calmer times. I conversed considerable, I argued some with him, but I didn't get so engaged as mebby I had ort to. He acted disappointed, and he didn't stay and talk more'n an hour and three quarters.

He generally spends half a day with us. He is a master hand to talk; he'll make your brain fairly spin round he talks so fast and handles such large, curius words. He talked every minute, only when I wuz a-answerin' his questions.



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Wall, he had jest gone, the front gate had just clicked onto him, when Miss Philander Dagget came in at the back door. She had her press-board in her hand, and a coat over her arm, and I see in a minute that I had got another trial onto me. I see I had got to set her right.

I set her a chair, and she took off her sun-bonnet and hung it over the back of her chair, and set down, and then she asked me if I could spend time to put in the sleeves of her husband's coat. She said “there wuz somethin' wrong about em', but she didn't know what.”

She said “she wouldn't have bothered me that day when I had so much round, but Philander had got to go to a funeral the next day, as one of the barriers, and he must have his coat.”

Wall, I wrung my hands out of the dish-water they was in at the time, and took the coat and looked at it, and the minute I set my eyes on it I see what ailed it I see she had got the sleeves sot in so the elbows come right in front of his arms, and if he had wore it in that condition to the funeral or anywhere else he would have had to fold up his arms right acrost his back; there wuzn't no other possible way.

And then I turned tailoress and helped her out of her trouble. I sot the sleeves in proper, and fixed the collar. She had got it sot on as a ruffle. I drawed it down smooth where it ort to be and pinned it—and she went home feelin' first rate.

I am very neighborly, and helpful, and am called so. Jonesville would miss me if any thing should happen.



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I have often helped that woman a sight. She is a good, willin' creeter, but she is apt to get things wrong, dretful apt. She made her little boy's pantaloons once wrong side before, so it would seem that he would have to set down from the front side, or else stand up.

And twice she got her husband's pantaloons sewed up so there wuz no way to get into em' only to crawl up into 'em through the bottom of the legs. But I have always made a practice of rippin' and tearin' and bastin', and settin' her right, and I did now.

Wall, she hadn't hardly got out of the back door, when Josiah Allen came in in awful distress, he had got a thorn in his foot, he had put on an old pair of boots, and there wuz a hole in the side of one of 'em, and the thorn had got in through the hole. It pained him dretfully, and he wuz jest as crazy as a loon for the time bein'. And he hollered the first thing that “he wanted some of Hall's salve.” And I told him “there wuzn't a mite in the house.”

And he hollered up and says, “There would be some if there wuz any sense in the head of the house.”



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I glanced up mechanically at his bald head, but didn't say nothin', for I see it wouldn't do. And he hollered out agin, “Why hain't there any Hall's salve?” Sez I, “Because old Hall has been dead for years and years, and hain't made any salve.”

“Wall, he wouldn't have been dead if he had had any care took of him,” he yelled out.

“Why,” sez I, “he wuz killed by lightnin'; struck down entirely onexpected five years ago last summer.”

“Oh, argue and dispute with a dying man. Gracious Peter! what will become of me!” he groaned out, a-holdin' his foot in his hand.

Sez I, “Let me put some Pond's Extract on it, Josiah.”

“Pond's Extract!” he yelled,

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