Scene.—Samantha’s kitchen, with a great deal of work about.—Enter Editor of the Augur leading a twin by each hand.
Ed. My hired girl has left me, Mrs. Allen, and I want to go to Shackeville this morning and see if I can find one. And I called to see if I could leave a twin or two with you while I am gone. And Mr. Allen invited me to come back to dinner; I told him I would, and I would read to you a political argument I have written for the next week’s Augur. It is as long as the President’s message, and is in blank verse. (Samantha groans) Mr. Allen told me that the Widder Doodle and Tirzah Ann had gone a visiting, and you had sights of work to do. I hated to ask you to take care of the twins; but I really didn’t know what to do; I was at my wit’s end.
Sam. Probable, there has been longer journeys took than that was; but I will keep the twins. I will try to do just as my friend John Rogers would have done.
Ed. Who?
Sam. The first martyr in Queen Mary’s reign. Here children let me take off your things. But I have got sights and sights of work to do to-day, and I have got to go up into the wood-house chamber to do some work, and you will have to stay here with the twins till I come back. Here is a picture book they may take to recreate on while I am gone. It is Foxe’s book of martyrs; and oh what a comfort that book is to me on days like this. Anybody may say they are patient and unselfish, and are willing to be martyrs; but I tell you you can’t tell what principles folks are made of till they are sot fire to. Now the religion and self-denial and sound principles of them old martyrs of Foxes, they couldn’t burn up, they couldn’t make a fire hot enough. And when I am tied to different stakes of martyrdom, I tell you it keeps my mind cool and calm, to think of the patience of them old martyrs of Foxes, and compare my sufferin’s with thiern, and meditate on this fact, that fire hain’t no hotter now than it was then, and though the soul may boy the body up triumphant, there couldn’t be any body burnt up without smartin’. Yes, I will keep the twins, and I will hear your blank verses; I will be down shortly.
Exit Samantha; Enter Betsey Bobbett.
Bet. Good morning, deah sir.
Ed. Good morning.
Bet. I saw you coming in here and I hurried over to bring some poetry that I have been composing for your paper. It is called “Gushings of a Tender Soul.” And would it be any more soothing and comforting to you if I should sign my name Bettie Bobbett, or Betsey as I always have? I asked Josiah Allen’s wife if she liked the “Bettie,” and she said she expected every day to hear some minister preach about Johnnie the Baptist and Minnie Magdelen, but she is cold and practical; but I will read it. (The twins cry and she says): Oh poor little motherless things, how much you need a step-mother; but I will read.
Ed. (Aside) Gracious Heavens! What shall I do!