The hat was reached up to the secretary, who gave it a couple of shakes, declaring at the same time, that he was "happy to say that the public spirit of Puddleford hadn't gin out yet." Squire Longbow then rose and said, that "some plan must be laid to get up a set of lecters. There were three great sciences, law, preaching, and physic--law consarned property, physic consarned the body, and preaching consarned the soul. These sciences must be scattered, so everybody could enjoy 'em. He could talk on law himself, and Bigelow could on preaching, and physic was understood, any way. There were other subjects which would come up in their order. There was paintin', and poetry, and music--but them warn't of no account in a new country where money was skase. Politics was one of the uncertain sciences, and it didn't do much good to speak on't, any how. A feller might study and study, and just likely as not the next election would blow him into fiddle-strings. Yet politics had got to be had, 'cause that was what kept the country alive, and made liberty grow. Old Gineral Washington himself had a little on't. He said 'twas one etarnal job to start edication, but jist get the thing a-goin once, and it'll move off like ile--it'll run rite off like a steam injin." Ike said "he know'd a curtain lecter or two might be had," looking round at Stub Bulliphant. "They warn't the worst kind nother. They'd bring a man all up standin', when nothin' else would. He'd seen a fellow cave right in under one on 'em, and come out as cow'd as a whipt spaniel. About lecterin' on politics, he didn't know. He guessed the bushes were a little too thick to talk on that, yet. He hoped the meetin' would speak right out, and 'spress their feelin's, wimmin and all." Old Mrs. Fizzle had been watching the movement of this august body for some time, and had thought, several times, that it was her duty to speak. When Ike, therefore, invited "women and all," she concluded to try it. She was a tall, weasel-faced looking person, and belonged to Bigelow's church. She was an out-and-out temperance woman, and had kept all Puddleford hot by her efforts to put down the sale of intoxicating drinks. She was a fiery, nervous, active, good sort of a woman. Mrs. Fizzle rose. She said "she thought she would give this meetin' a piece of her mind, consarnin' things in general. She didn't know but the meetin' was well enough--she liked meetins--she said she didn't care nothin' about politics, never did her any good as she know'd on--she didn't want to hear any lecters any way 'bout that. If some on 'em would talk 'bout temperance, she'd turn out, and give a little something to help the cause along. She said if she really thought that this meetin' could stop Clewes from selling licker, she'd tend it reg'lar." "Certainly, ma'am," said Ike, rising, and turning his eyes towards Mrs. Fizzle. "We'll put a _ha_bus corpus on to him 'fore breakfast to-morrow morning."