I was in favor of their havin’ ’em, from the very first on’t, and said openly, that I laid out to attend ’em; but I thought my soul, I should have to stay to home, the very first one. It commenced on a Tuesday night, and I had got my mind all worked up about goin’ to it; and I told the Widder Doodle, (Josiah’s brother’s wife, that is livin’ with us at present,) I told her in the afternoon, it would be a dretful blow to me if anything should happen to keep me to home; and I got a early breakfast, a purpose to get a early dinner, so’s to have a early supper, so’s to be ready to go, you know, sunthin’ as the poem runs:—“The fire begun to burn the stick, the stick begun to lick the kid, and the kid begun to go.” Wall, before supper, I went up into the Widder Doodle’ses room to git my soap-stone, to put on the tank to have it a warmin’ for the ride; (I let the Widder have the soap-stone, nights, she havin’ no other companion, and bein’ lonesome, and troubled with cold feet. I do well by the Widder.) As I come down with it, all boyed up in my mind about what a edifyin’ and instructive time I was a goin’ to have, the Widder spoke up and says she: “Josiah has jest been in, and he don’t know as he shall go to Jonesville, after all; he says the Editor of the Auger is sick.” He was to make the openin’ speech. “What ails the Editor?” says I. Says she,—“He has got the Zebra Spinner Magnetics.” “Good land!” says I, “he wont never get over it, will he? I shouldn’t never expect to get well if _I_ had that distemper, and I don’t know as I should want to. It must leave the system in a awful state.” “Yes,” says Josiah, who had come in with an armful of wood, “the Editor is bad off; but Sister Doodle haint got it jest right; it is the Zebra Smilin’ Marcellus that has got a holt of him. Solomon Cypher told me about it when he went by on his saw log.” “Wall,” says I coolly, “a few words, more or less, haint a goin’ to make or break a distemper. You both seem to be agreed and sot onto the Zebra, so s’posen we call it the Zebra, for short. Do you know whether he catched the Zebra, or whether it come onto him spontaneous, as it were? Anyway, I don’t believe he will ever git over it.” And I sithed as I thought of the twins; he has had a sight of twins sense he married this woman; I never see such a case for twins, as the Editor is. And I sithed as I thought of every span of ’em; and the ma, and step-ma of ’em. I kep’ a sithin’, and says I: “This distemper is a perfect stranger to me, Josiah Allen. Where does the Zebra take holt of anybody?” Says he,—“The disease is in the backside of his neck, and the posterity part of his brain.” And then I felt better. I felt well about the Editor of the Augers’es wife, and the twins. Says I in a cheerful voice: “If the disease is in his brain, Josiah, I know he will have it light. I know they can quell it down easy.”