“Wall,” says I in a kinder, soothin tone, drawin’ it out of his shoulder, where it must have hurt awfully, only he hadn’t felt it in his greater troubles--“Less be thankful that we are as well off as we be. Betsey might have insisted on stopin’. I will rub your shoulders with the linament, and I guess you will feel better; do you suppose they will be mad?” “I don’t know, nor I don’t care, but I hope so,” says he. And truly his wish come to pass, for Betsey was real mad; the rest didn’t seem to mind it. But she was real short to me for three days. Which shows it makes a difference with her who does the same thing, for they went that night right from here to the Editor of the Augur’s. And it come straight to me from Celestine Wilkins, who was there, that he turned ’em out doors, and shet the door in their faces. The way it was, his hired girl had left him that very day, and one of the twins was took sick with wind colic. He had jest got the sick baby to sleep, and laid it in the cradle, and had gin the little well one some playthings, and set her down on the carpet, and he was washin’ the supper dishes, with his shirt sleeves rolled up, and a pink bib-apron on that belonged to his late wife. They said he had jest finished, and was wringin’ out his dishcloth, when he heard a awful screamin’ from the well twin, and he rushed out with his dishcloth hangin’ over his arm, and found that she had swallowed a side-thimble; he ketched her up, and spatted her back, and the thimble flew out half way across the floor. She screamed, and held her breath, and the sick one waked up, and sot up in the cradle and screamed fearfully, and jest then the door bust open, and in come the suprize party headed by Betsey Bobbet. They said that he, half crazy as he was, told Betsey that “if she didn’t head ’em off that minute, he would prosecute the whole of ’em.” Some of ’em was mad about it, he acted so threat’nin’, but Betsey wasn’t, for in the next week’s Augur these verses came out: IT IS SWEET TO FORGIVE. It is sweet to be--it is sweet to live, But sweeteh the sweet word “forgive;” If harsh, loud words should spoken be, Say “Soul be calm they come from he-- When he was wild with toil and grief, When colic could not find relief; Such woe and cares should have sufficed, Then, he should not have been surprized.” When twins are well, and the world looks bright, To be surprized, is sweet and right, But when twins are sick, and the world looks sad, To be surprized is hard and bad, And when side thimbles swallowed be, How can the world look sweet to he-- Who owns the twin--faih babe, heaven bless it, Who hath no own motheh to caress it.