And one recounted a lengthy tale About the best way to drive a nail, And one old woman talked a hour On a pinch of salt and a spunful of flour; And Jane she boasted two hours the deed She did when she pizened a pusley weed, And there I'd sweat, and there I'd groan, And pull my gray locks onbeknown-- A victim to small petickulars. And a female sot with anxious frown Disputin' herself right up and down-- As to whether the hour wuz one or two, When their old white mare lost off its shoe-- Sometimes 'twas two, and then 'twas one, And so through the hours that mare wuz run, And it trompled my brain till I cried, "Whoa! Do shue the old mair and let her go!" But under its heels I had to lay, And sweat, and rithe, and cuss the day-- They driv in them petickulars. And they wondered if Jane had cloth enough For her calico apron with bib and ruff, And they mentally rent their robes and tore, For fear that sunthin' wuz wrong with the gore, Till I wished that gore wuz over it rolled, And on Martha's boots that had been new soled, And they almost mistrusted wuz too thin, By pretty nigh the wedth of a pin. And I vowed I could put their souls all in, And rattle 'em round in the head of a pin. And there I groaned, and turned, and lay, And sweat and sithed from day to day, A victim to small petickulars. Till one day I riz and cried with might, "Bring on a earthquake into my sight, Fetch me a cyclone good and strong, A hurrycain, pestilence, bring 'em along, Let me see 'em before I am dead; Let 'em roar and romp around my bed, But ketch 'em, kill 'em, drive 'em away, This very minute of this very day Every one of your dum petickulars. "Let me be killed out square and rough, By a good hard kick from a elephant's huff, Or let a volcano rise and bust This mortal frame, if bust it must. But I swan to man that I won't die By a kick from the off leg of a fly; And agin I swan, that I won't give in And go to my grave on the pint of a pin, Killed by your dum petickulars." My eyes wuz wild, my goery meen Skairt 'em almost to death, I ween The females all fled out of my sight, The two old women mad with fright, Jostled each other and fell over chairs; And all on 'em said "I wuz crazier'n bears." But I settled back on my peaceful bed And most mistrusted I wuz dead And had got through the gate to Beuler land, And I smiled some smiles, serene and bland, For I never had felt such peace before, As when I drove 'em out of the door, Every one of them dum petickulars. VIII I TALK ON WIMMEN'S EXTRAVAGANCE