She grew calm, and I proceeded, “How long do you suppose you could board a man on clear smiles, Betsey--you jest try it for a few meals and you’d find out. I have lived with Josiah Allen 14 years, and I ought to know somethin’ of the natur of man, which is about alike in all of ’em, and I say, and I contend for it, that you might jest as well try to cling to a bear as to a hungry man. After dinner, sentiment would have a chance, and you might smile on him. But then,” says I thoughtfully, “there is the dishes to wash.” Jest at that minute the Editor of the Augur stopped at the gate, and Betsey, catchin’ up a twin on each arm, stood up to the winder, smilin’. He jumped out, and took a great roll of poetry out from under the buggy seat--I sithed as I see it. But fate was better to me than I deserved. For Josiah was jest leadin’ the horse into the horse barn, when the Editor happened to look up and see Betsey. Josiah says he swore--says he “the d----!” I won’t say what it was, for I belong to the meetin’ house, but it wasn’t the Deity though it begun with a D. He jumped into the buggy agin, and says Josiah, “You had better stay to dinner, my wife is gettin’ a awful good one--and the sugar is most done.” Josiah says he groaned, but he only said-- “Fetch out the twins.” Says Josiah, “You had better stay to dinner--you haint got no women folks to your house--and I know what it is to live on pancakes,” and wantin’ to have a little fun with him, says he, “Betsey Bobbet is here.” Josiah says he swore agin, and agin says he, “fetch out the twins.” And he looked so kind o’ wild and fearful towards the door, that Josiah started off on the run. Betsey was determined to carry one of the twins out, but jest at the door he tore every mite of hair off’en her head, and she, bein’ bald naturally, dropped him. And Josiah carried ’em out, one on each arm, and he drove off with ’em fast. Betsey wouldn’t stay to dinner all I could do and say, she acted mad. But one sweet thought filled me with such joyful emotion that I smiled as I thought of it--I shouldn’t have to listen to any more poetry that day. THE MINISTER’S BEDQUILT. The Baptists in our neighborhood have been piecen’ up a bedquilt for their minister. He has preached considerable, and held a Sunday school to our school-house, and I wasn’t goin’ to have any bedquilts done for him without havin’ my hand in it to help it along. I despise the idee of folks bein’ so sot on their own meetin’ housen. Thier is enough worldly things for neighbors to fight about, such as hens, and the school-marm, without takin’ what little religion they have got and go to peltin’ each other with it.