n," declared Betsey Bottom. "Some women
try to make out that they ain't got an eye for the shape as long as the
sense is all square and solid--but I ain't never been one of 'em. Sense
is all right in its place, no doubt, but thar're times when a fine
figger is mo' convincin' than any argyment that ever was uttered."

"It's a thing that beats me," pondered Solomon Hatch, "why a sensible
woman should care how a man is made on the outside so long as the proper
stuffin' is inside of him. With a man now, of course, it is different,
seein' as natur made 'em with a sharp eye for the beauty in the opposite
sex, an' they're all for natur an' al'ays have been. But I'll be blest
if I can understand it in women."

"Well, I've noticed that they have a particular likin' for the worthless
over the hardworkin' sort," remarked old Adam, "an' when it comes to
that, I've known a woman to git clear set against a man on o'count of
nothin' bigger than a chaw of tobaccy."

"It's the way of the sex," said Solomon Hatch. "When I was courtin' my
wife I was obleeged to promise her I'd give up the habit befo' she'd
keep company with me."

"An' you began agin, I low, after the ceremony was spoken."

"To be sure--'twas a courtin' promise, not a real one."

"It happened the same in my case, some sixty years or mo' ago," said old
Adam. "Thar was two of us arter Minnie--for the matter of that, it
never entered my head to court her till I saw that Jacob Halloween--yo'
grandpa, Jim--had begun to git soft on her. It's safer to trust another
man's jedgment than yo' own I said to myself, an' I started into the
race. Well, Jacob was the pious, churchgoin' sort that she liked--but he
would chaw in season an' out of it--thar was some as said he chawed even
when he was sleepin'--an' a woman so out an' out with tobaccy you never
set eyes on. Sez she to me, 'Adam, you will give up the weed for me,
won't you?' An' sez I, 'Why, to be sartin sure, I will,' meanin' of
course, while I was courtin'. Then she answered, 'Well, he's a Christian
an' a churchgoer an' you ain't, but if he was the Angel Gabriel himself,
Adam, an' was a chawer, I wouldn't marry him. The men may make their
habits, Adam,' she said, 'but it takes the women to break 'em.' Lord!
Lord! durin' that courtin' season my mouth would water so for a wad of
tobaccy that I'd think my tongue was goin' to ketch fire."

"I shouldn't like to have stood in yo' shoes when you began agin,"
remarked Betsey Bo