ing that wa' n't
true),--I've heard _him_ say Bill Jinkins would cheat his own father
out of his eye teeth if he had a chance. Where was I? Oh! "His widder
to console,"--ther ain't but one more verse, 't ain't a very lengthy
poim. When Parson Potter read it, he says to me, says he,--What
did you stop so soon for?"--but Miss Jinkins told the Crosbys _she_
thought I'd better a' stopt afore I 'd begun,--she 's a purty critter
to talk so, I must say. I 'd like to see some poitry o' hern,--I guess
it would be astonishin' stuff; and mor'n all that, she said there wa'
n't a word o' truth in the hull on 't,--said I never cared two cents
for the deacon. What an everlastin' lie!! Why, when he died, I took it
so hard I went deranged, and took on so for a spell, they was afraid
they should have to send me to a Lunattic Arsenal. But that's a
painful subject, I won't dwell on 't. I conclude as follers:--

I'll never change my single lot,--
I think 't would be a sin,--
The inconsolable widder o' Deacon Bedott
Don't intend to get married agin.

Excuse me cryin'--my feelin's always overcomes me so when I say that
poitry--O-o-o-o-o-o!

THE TWO WEAVERS.

HANNAH MORE.

This piece should be spoken in a simple, unaffected
conversational manner; still it admits of much quiet emphasis,
and subdued irony:

As at their work two weavers sat,
Beguiling time with friendly chat,
They touched upon the price of meat,
So high, a weaver scarce could eat.

"What with my brats and sickly wife,"
Quoth Dick, "I'm almost tired of life;
So hard my work, so poor my fare,
'Tis more than mortal man can bear.

"How glorious is the rich man's state
His house so fine, his wealth so great!
Heaven is unjust, you must agree;
Why all to him? Why none to me?

"In spite of what the Scripture teaches
In spite of all the parson preaches,
This world (indeed I've thought so long)
Is ruled methinks extremely wrong.

"Where'er I look, howe'er I range,
'Tis all confused and hard and strange;
The good are troubled and oppressed,
And all the wicked are the blest."

Quoth John, "Our ignorance is the cause
Why thus we blame our Maker's laws;
_Parts of his ways_ alone we know;
'Tis all that man can see below.

"See'st thou that carpet, not half done,
Which thou, dear Dick, hast well begun?
Behold the wild confusion there,
So rude the mass it makes one stare!

"A str