never repels the humble drop. Though a female, Betsy wuz a human bein' like myself. Wuz it right for me to deny her the boon of immortality in the pages of my great work? What wuz my duty in the matter? 

I rubbed my forward, behind which my brain wuz revolvin' with lightnin' speed, with my forefinger, gittin' considerable ink on the outside of my brain (namely my forward) which Samantha reminded me of afterwards and finally I sez: 

"I will give this triflin' matter due consideration, Betsy Slimpsey, and let you know the result of my cogitations. And now," sez I, wavin' my hand towards the outside door in a noble lordly wave, "Woman depart! leave me to my thoughts." 

She went, Samantha accompanyin' her to the doorstep on which I hearn her dickerin' with Betsy for some Rhode Island hen's eggs to set, so irresponsive and oncongenial is a female pardner ofttimes and onmindful of the great historical event happenin' so near her, and the great man she is throwed amongst. Alas! how often is genius bound down and trammeled in its own environment.

When Samantha come in lookin' cheerful, for she could git the eggs on a even swop for our Brown Leghorns, I asked her agin about it, for every married man will testify that you can't depend on what a pardner will say before other wimmen on such a occasion. Sez I, "Would you honor Betsy by lettin' her put some of her verses in my great volume? Do you think," sez I anxiously, "that it will clog and weigh it down too much?" 

Sez she, "It may be a good thing to have some weight hitched to it." 

I didn't really know what she meant, but as she immegiately retired into the buttery to make and roll out her pie crust, I didn't want to interrupt her, for every man knows that a woman needs the hull of what little mind she's got at such a time. Such apple pies as Samantha makes with tender flaky crust and delicious interior are a work of art, and requires ondivided attention. 

So I wuz throwed back onto my own resources and judgment, and didn't try to argy no more. Duty and pity for her and her sect conquerored in the end, and the next day I gin my consent and Betsy sent down by one of her various stepchildren a bran sack full of her poetry, which I emptied for convenience into a huge dish pan which wuz exempt from work by age. 

How tickled and full of triump Betsy wuz, and it wuz enough to tickle any female to have her poetry appear in the pages of my 

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