As I mean that this book shall be a Becon light, guidin’ female wimmen, to life, liberty, and the pursuit of true happiness, I would insert right here this word of solem’ warnin’ to my sect situated in the tryin’ place of second consorts, if the relict goes to comparin’ you to his foregone consort, _don’t encourage him in it_. On this short rule hangs the hope of domestick harmony. [Illustration] ABOUT JOSIAH AND THE CHILDREN. But step-mothers have a pretty hard row to hoe, though I don’t complain. I like children, clean children first rate, and I have tried to do my duty by his’en. I have done as well by ’em as I knew how to, and I think a sight of Thomas Jefferson and Tirzah Ann. Tirzah Ann is dreadful sentimental, that is what spiles her mostly. And Thomas Jefferson thinks he knows more than his father, that is his greatest failin’. But take ’em all through, they are _full_ as good as other folks’es children, and I know it. Thomas Jefferson is dreadful big feelin’, he is 17 years old, he wears a stove pipe hat, and is tryin’ to raise a moustache, it is now jest about as long as the fuzz on cotton flannel and most as white. They both go to Jonesville to high school, (we hire a room for ’em to Mother Allen’s, and they board themselves,) but they are to home every Saturday, and then they kinder quarell all day jest as brothers and sisters will. What agravates Thomas J. the worst is to call him “bub,” and Tirzah Ann don’t call him anything else unless she forgets herself. He seems to think it is manly to have doubts about religeon. I put him through the catechism, and thought he was sound. But he seems to think it is manly to argue about free moral agency, foreordination, and predestination, and his father is jest fool enough to argue with him. Sez he last Saturday, “Father, if it was settled beyond question six or seven thousand years ago that I was goin’ to be lost what good does it do for me to squirm? and if it was settled that I was goin’ to be saved, how be I goin’ to help myself?” sez he, “I believe we can’t help ourselves, what was meant to happen, will happen.” Before his father had time to speak--Josiah is a slow spoken man, Tirzah Ann spoke up-- “Bub, if it was settled six or seven thousand years ago that I should take your new jockey club and hair oil, and use ’em all myself, why then I shall.” “Tirzah Ann,” says he “If you should touch ’em it was foreordained from creation that you would get dreadfully hurt.” But I spoke up then for the first time, says I, “You see Thomas J. that come to fighting you have moral agency enough--or immoral agency. Now,” says I, “I won’t hear another word from you, you Thomas J. are a young fool, and you Josiah Allen are a old one, now,” says I “go to the barn, for I want to mop.”