eats
Up the things there is left over when the Sewin' Circle meets.

I guess Pa do'n't like the Circle, 'cause he said ter Uncle Jim
That there cacklin' hen convention was too peppery for _him_.
And he'll say to Ma, "I'm sorry, but I've really got ter dodge
Down t' the hall right after supper--there's a meetin' at the lodge."
Ma'll say, "Yes, so I expected." Then a-speakin' kinder cold,
"Seems ter me, I'd get a new one; that excuse is gettin' old!"
Pa'll look sick, just like a feller when he finds you know he cheats,
But he do'n't stay home, you bet yer, when the Sewin' Circle meets.

* * * * *

SERMON TIME

"Blessed are the poor in spirit": there, I'll just remember that,
And I'll say it over 'n over, till I've got it good and pat,
For when I get home from meetin', Gran'ma'll ask me for the text,
And if I say I've forgot it, she'll be goin' for me next,
Say in', I don't pay attention, and what _am_ I comin' to;
Tellin' 'bout when _she_ was little, same as old folks always do.
Say, I'll bet she didn't like it any better than the rest,
Sittin' 'round all stiff and starchy, dressed up in your Sunday best.

"Blessed are the poor"--I tell yer, some day I'll be clearin' out,
Leavin' all this dressin' nonsense, 'cause I'm goin' ter be a scout,
Same as "Deadwood Dick," a-killin' all the Injuns on the plains:
_He_ do'n't comb his hair, you bet yer; no, nor wash, unless it rains.
And bimeby I'll come home, bringin' loads of gold and di'mon' rings;
My, won't all the boys be jealous when they see those kind of things!
'N' I'll have a reputation, folks'll call me "Lariat Ben,"
Gran'ma'll think I 'mount ter somethin', maybe, when she sees me then.

"Blessed are the"--There's a blackbird, outside, sittin' on a limb,--
Gosh! I wish it wasn't Sunday, p'raps I wouldn't go for him.
Sis says stonin' birds is wicked, but she's got one on her hat,--
S'pose that makes it right and proper, if yer kill 'em just for that.
There's that dudey city feller, sittin' in the Deacon's pew.
Needn't feel so big now, Smarty, just because your clothes are new;
Me and Sam has rigged a hat line; when it's dark to-morrer night
We'll just catch your shiny beaver and we'll send it out of sight.

"Blessed are"--There's Mr. Wiggin sound asleep. I wish he'd snore.
Cracky! Now he's been and done it, dropped his hymn-book on the floor.
See how cross his wife is lookin'. Say, I bet they'll have a row;
Pa said that she wore the