I wiped my eyes off, and told her I didn't believe she could get 'em done in that length of time, but I would tell the President about it, and “I thought more'n as likely as not he would want to do right by her.” And says I, “If he sets out to, he can haul them babys of yourn out of that Ring pretty sudden.” And then, to kinder get her mind off of her sufferin's, I asked her how her sister Susan wus a gettin' along. I hadn't heard from her for years--she married Philemon Clapsaddle; and Dorlesky spoke out as bitter as a bitter walnut--a green one. And says she,-- “She is in the poorhouse.” “Why, Dorlesky Burpy!” says I. “What do you mean?” “I mean what I say. My sister, Susan Clapsaddle, is in the poorhouse.” “Why, where is their property all gone?” says I. “They was well off--Susan had five thousand dollars of her own when she married him.” “I know it,” says she. “And I can tell you, Josiah Allen's wife, where their property is gone. It has gone down Philemon Clapsaddle's throat. Look down that man's throat, and you will see 150 acres of land, a good house and barns, 20 sheep, and 40 head of cattle.” “Why-ee!” says I. “Yes, you will see 'em all down that man's throat.” And says she, in still more bitter axents, “You will see four mules, and a span of horses, two buggies, a double sleigh, and three buffalo-robes. He has drinked 'em all up--and 2 horse-rakes, a cultivator, and a thrashin'-machine. “Why! Why-ee!” says I agin. “And where are the children?” “The boys have inherited their father's evil habits, and drink as bad as he duz; and the oldest girl has gone to the bad.” “Oh, dear! oh, dear me!” says I. And we both sot silent for a spell. And then, thinkin' I must say sunthin', and wantin' to strike a safe subject, and a good-lookin' one, I says,-- “Where is your aunt Eunice'es girl? that pretty girl I see to your house once.” “That girl is in the lunatick asylum.” “Dorlesky Burpy!” says I. “Be you a tellin' the truth?” “Yes, I be, the livin' truth. She went to New York to buy millinary goods for her mother's store. It wus quite cool when she left home, and she hadn't took off her winter clothes: and it come on brilin' hot in the city; and in goin' about from store to store, the heat and the hard work overcome her, and she fell down in the street in a sort of a faintin'-fit, and was called drunk, and dragged off to a police court by a man who wus a animal in human shape. And he misused her in such a way, that she never got over the horror of what befell her--when she come to, to find herself at the mercy of a brute in a man's shape. She went into a melancholy madness, and wus sent to the asylum. Of course they couldn't have wimmen in such places to take care of wimmen,” says she bitterly. I sithed a long and mournful sithe, and sot silent agin for quite a spell. But thinkin' I _must_ be sociable, I says,-- “Your aunt Eunice is well, I s'pose?” “She is a moulderin' in jail,” says she. “In jail? Eunice Keeler in jail?”