last winter. They had a sort of a gatherin' there one night among the
grandees, they called a fair. All the gals about town was there, and all
the handsome widows and married women, finickin' about trying to look
like gals, tied as tight in the middle, and puffed out at both ends,
like bundles of fodder that had n't been stacked yet, but wanted
stackin' pretty bad. And then they had tables all around the house
kivered over with [------] caps and pincushions and ten thousand such
little knick-knacks, tryin' to sell 'em to the fellows that were bowin',
and scrapin' and kungeerin' about 'em. They would n't let no Democrats
in, for fear they'd disgust the ladies, or scare the little gals, or
dirty the floor. I looked in at the window, and there was this same
fellow Shields floatin' about on the air, without heft or earthly
substances, just like a lock of cat fur where cats had been fighting.

"He was paying his money to this one, and that one, and t' other one,
and sufferin' great loss because it was n't silver instead of State
paper; and the sweet distress he seemed to be in,--his very features,
in the ecstatic agony of his soul, spoke audibly and distinctly, 'Dear
girls, it is distressing, but I cannot marry you all. Too well I know
how much you suffer; but do, do remember, it is not my fault that I am
so handsome and so interesting.'

"As this last was expressed by a most exquisite contortion of his face,
he seized hold of one of their hands, and squeezed, and held on to it
about a quarter of an hour. 'Oh, my good fellow!' says I to myself, 'if
that was one of our Democratic gals in the Lost Townships, the way you
'd get a brass pin let into you would be about up to the head.' He a
Democrat! Fiddlesticks! I tell you, Aunt 'Becca, he's a Whig, and no
mistake; nobody but a Whig could make such a conceity dunce of himself."

"Well," says I, "maybe he is; but, if he is, I 'm mistaken the worst
sort. Maybe so, maybe so; but, if I am, I'll suffer by it; I'll be a
Democrat if it turns out that Shields is a Whig, considerin' you shall
be a Whig if he turns out a Democrat."

"A bargain, by jingoes!" says he; "but how will we find out?"

"Why," says I, "we'll just write and ax the printer."

"Agreed again!" says he; "and by thunder! if it does turn out that
Shields is a Democrat, I never will----"

"Jefferson! Jefferson!"

"What do you want, Peggy?"

"Do get through your everlasting clatter some time, and bring me a gou