“It is in vain madam! you are the 94th woman who has been here to-day after office. Female lobsteress depart! Get thee behind me Sa—female!”
Says I with deep emotion, “Horace you don’t know me! I am not a female lobsteress! I am Josiah Allen’s wife.”
He came forward and shook hands with me, and says he, “I know you will excuse my vehemence, when I tell you, I am almost devoured by office seekers!” He cleared a path through the papers on the floor to some chairs, but as we set down, he continued in tremblin’ tones, for it seemed as if he couldn’t forget his troubles,
“Foxes and woodchucks have holes, but a candidate for the Presidency can’t find none small enough to hide in. I did,” says he sithin deeply, “I did have a few peaceful, happy hours in the suller of my dwellin’ house;” he paused, overcome by sad recolections, and says I, deeply sympathizin’ and interested,
“What broke it up Horace?”
“They found the out door suller way; so,” says he sithin agin, “I lost that peaceful haven.”
“Wall,” says I, tryin’ to soothe his agitation,
“You’re one in a high, noble place, Horace.”
