She thinks she talks dreadful polite and proper. She says, “I was cameing,” instead of “I was coming;” and “I have saw,” instead of “I have seen;” and “papah” for paper, and “deah” for dear. I don’t know much about grammer, but common sense goes a good ways. She writes the poetry for the _Jonesville Augur_, or “_Augah_,” as she calls it. She used to write for the opposition paper, the _Jonesville Gimlet_, but the editer of the _Augur_, a long-haired chap, who moved into Jonesville a few months ago, lost his wife soon after he come there, and sence that she has turned Dimocrat, and writes for his paper stiddy. They say that he is a dreadful big feelin’ man, and I have heard—it came right straight to me—his cousin’s wife’s sister told it to the mother-in-law of one of my neighbour’s brother’s wife, that he didn’t like Betsey’s poetry at all, and all he printed it for was to plague the editer of the _Gimlet_, because she used to write for him. I myself wouldn’t give a cent a bushel for all the poetry she can write. And it seems to me, that if I was Betsey, I wouldn’t try to write so much. Howsumever, I don’t know what turn I should take if I was Betsey Bobbet; that is a solemn subject, and one I don’t love to think on. I never shall forget the first piece of her poetry I ever see. Josiah Allen and I had both on us been married goin’ on a year, and I had occasion to go to his trunk one day, where he kept a lot of old papers, and the first thing I laid my hand on was these verses. Josiah went with her a few times after his wife died, on 4th of July or so, and two or three camp meetin’s, and the poetry seemed to be wrote about the time _we_ was married. It was directed over the top of it, “Owed to Josiah,” just as if she were in debt to him. This was the way it read— “OWED TO JOSIAH. “Josiah, I the tale have hurn, With rigid ear, and streaming eye, I saw from me that you did turn, I never knew the reason why. Oh, Josiah, It seemed as if I must expiah. Why did you,—oh, why did you blow Upon my life of snowy sleet, The fiah of love to fiercest glow, Then turn a damphar on the heat? Oh, Josiah, It seemed as if I must expiah. I saw thee coming down the street, _She_ by your side in bonnet bloo; The stuns that grated ’neath thy feet, Seemed crunching on my vitals too. Oh, Josiah, It seemed as if I must expiah.