Jest as they concluded thier frantic cheers over his speech, a thin, feeble lookin’ woman come by where I stood, drawin’ a large baby wagon with two children in it, seemin’ly a two-year-old, and a yearlin’. She also carried one in her arms who was lame. She looked so beat out and so ready to drop down, that I got up and give her my seat, and says I,
“You look ready to fall down.”
“Am I too late,” says she, “to hear my husband’s speech?”
“Is that your husband,” says I, “that is laughin’ and talkin’ with that pretty girl?”
“Yes,” says she with a sort of troubled look.
“Well, he jest finished.”
She looked ready to cry, and as I took the lame child from her breakin’ arms, says I—
“This is too hard for you.”
“I wouldn’t mind gettin’ ’em on to the ground,” says she, “I haint had only three miles to bring ’em, that wouldn’t be much if it wasn’t for the work I had to do before I come.”