It is sad for a deah man to be alone.
Enter Thos. Jefferson.
Thos. J. Good morning, editor, good morning, Betsey; I have got a poem of yours here, Betsey, that I found in father’s tin trunk the other day. I hav’nt seen you before since I found it.
Bet. (delighted) Is it possible; your pa probably cut it out of some paper and has been treasuring it up.
Thos. J. Shall I read it?
Bet. Oh, yes; do read it, Thos. Jefferson.
Thos. J.
Josiah, I the tale have hurn
With rigid ear, and streaming eye,
I saw from me that you did turn,