When I got there the seats was full. Betsey Bobbet was jest ahead of me, and says she,
“Come on, Josiah Allen’s wife, let us have a seat, we can obtain one, if we push and scramble enough.” As I looked upon her carryin’ out her doctrine, pushin’ and scramblin’, I thought to myself, if I didn’t know to the contrary, I never should take you for a modest dignifier and retirer. And as I beheld her breathin’ hard, and her elboes wildly wavin’ in the air, pushin’ in between native men of Jonesville and foreigners, I again methought, I don’t believe you would be so sweaty and out of breath a votin’ as you be now. And as I watched her labors and efforts I continued to methink sadly, how strange! how strange! that retirin’ modesty and delicacy can stand so firm in some situations, and then be so quickly overthrowed in others seemin’ly not near so hard.
THE FOURTH OF JULY CELEBRATION
Betsey finally got a seat, wedged in between a large healthy Irishman and a native constable, and she motioned for me to come on, at the same time pokin’ a respectable old gentleman in front of her, with her parasol, to make him move along. Says I,
“I may as well die one way as another, as well expier a standin’ up, as in tryin’ to get a seat,” and I quietly leaned up against a hemlock tree and composed myself for events. A man heard my words which I spoke about ½ to myself, and says he,
“Take my seat, mum.”
Says I “No! keep it.”