gigantic effort. The follerin' verses of hern writ before her marriage I culled at random from the dish pan and subjoin:

WIMMEN'S SPEAR 

_Or Whisperin's of Nature to Betsy Bobbett_ 

Last night as I meandered out  
To meditate apart,  
Secluded in my parasol,  
Deep subjects shook my heart.  
The earth, the skies, the prattling brooks  
All thundered in my ear--  
It is matrimony, it is matrimony,  
That is a woman's spear.  

Day, with a red shirred bunnet on  
Had down for China started,  
Its yellow ribbons fluttered o'er  
Her head as she departed--  
She seemed to wink her eyes on me  
As she did disappear--  
And say it is matrimony, Betsy  
That is a woman's spear.  

A rustic had broke down his team,  
I mused almost in tears,  
How can a yoke be borne along  
By half a pair of steers?  
Even thus in wrath did Nature speak  
Hear, Betsy Bobbett, hear;  
It is matrimony, it is matrimony,  
That is a woman's spear.  

I saw a pair of roses  
Like wedded pardners grow,  
Sharp thorns did pave their mortal path,  
Yet sweetly did they blow.  
They seemed to blow these glorious words  
Into my willing ear,  
It is matrimony, it is matrimony  

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