What was this lovely creature’s name?
Betsey Bobbet.”
THE EAR RING PEDLER.
That is jest the way he kep’ at it, he would kinder happen round where I was, and every chance he would get he would have over a string of them verses, till it did seem as if I should go crazy. Finally I said to him in tones before which he quailed,
“If I hear one word more of poetry from you to-night I will complain to your father,” says I wildly, “I don’t believe there is another woman in the United States that suffers so much from poetry as I do! What have I done,” says I still more wildly, “that I should be so tormented by it?” says I, “I won’t hear another word of poetry to-night,” says I, “I will stand for my rights—I will not be drove into insanity with poetry.”
Betsey started for home in good season, and I told her I would go as fur as Squire Edwards’es with her. Miss Edwards was out by the gate, and of course Betsey had to stop and show the ear rings. She was jest lookin’ at ’em when the minister and Maggie Snow and Tirzah Ann drove up to the gate, and wanted to know what we was lookin’ at so close, and Betsey, castin’ a proud and haughty look onto the girls, told him that—
“It was a paih of ear rings that had belonged to the immortal Mr. Shakespeah’s wife informally.”