Two twins—the deah little cherub creeters,
Can wipe the tears from off his classic features;
Oh! sweet lot, worthy angel risen,
To wipe the tears from eyes like hisen. |(Editor groans.)|
Bet. May I ask you, deah man, if the twin has got oveh swallowing the thimble? I heard it swallowed the hired girl’s thimble the very day she hired out to another place, and left you alone.
Ed. It did, and I wish it had swallowed the hired girl! I feel reckless, and bad.
Bet. Oh! deah man; you need to be soothed. Poetry is soothing, and comforting, when rehearsed by a tendeh female voice. I have a few lines here, composed “On a Twin Swallowing a Side Thimble.” It is more on a mournful plan; but I will read it to you.
Ed. (Aside) Did Heaven ever witness such tribulations? (And while Betsey is reading he takes a pistol out of his pocket, aims it at her, and then replaces it. Betsey reads):
Bet.
Oh, when side thimbles swallowed be,