chronic scowl, and you would say: "Disposition a little morose; some man
has soured on her." Looking at her more closely, you would see under her
right arm a common blackboard, such as is used in schools, and over her
shoulder a canvas bag containing lumps of chalk, and you would say: "A
little eccentric; likes to write on the blackboard instead of talking.
Would make a nice wife. Looks, on the whole, like a country schoolma'am,
whom the boys have stoned out of town, with the fixtures of the
school-house tied to her." But she has talents. What is she, an
authoress? "Yes, she is." But, like other authoresses, she isn't
appreciated, and has returned to her legitimate occupation, the
Wash-Tub; but still doth she itch for fame, and so, between times, she
writes verbose essays on Female Suffrage, composed during the process
known as "wringing." And when there's a Woman's Rights Convention in
that locality, she sits on the platform, and applauds all the Red-Hot
Resolutions with that trenchant female weapon, the umbrella, in one
hand, and an antediluvian reticule the other. In the words of the Hon.
MICHAEL: "She is not only a leading _Re_former, sir, but a great
_Plat_former." And Mrs. LADLE will tell you that, as a washer, she is
superb. She "does up things" in a manner simply celestial.

Mrs. LADLE told her first to shut the door.

"Have you seen ANN BRUMMET to-day?" she said.

HERSEY nodded.

"Where?" was the eager inquiry.

HERSEY DEATHBURY placed her blackboard against the wall, unslung her
chalk, and wrote in very large letters:--