give some bit of news or scientific fact, or give a review of the
last new book."

"Oh, I have tried that a little on my own book," said Mrs. Peterson.
"I sat up one night after all the rest had gone to bed, and read all
about that Dr. Somebody, with a hard name--I can't pronounce it, it
begins with an 'S.' Well, he and his wife are digging up buried
cities, hundreds and thousands of years old--and finding the most
wonderful things, money, and jewellery, and splendid vases, and all
sorts of nice things. Now, says I to myself, I've got something to
talk about at sewing society to-morrow. It'll make 'em open their
eyes, too, I guess, so I read it all over again, to be sure and have
it at my tongue's end. Well, I went to sewing society, and when
there was a kind of a lull in talk, I began to tell three or four
that sat around me, all about that wonderful story that I'd been
reading. Do you believe it, they just poked fun at my story, and
said, 'of course 'twa'n't true, and we couldn't believe half we read
in the papers, and it would tura out like the Cardiff giant, most
likely.' I was going on to tell how he brought, out the curiosities,
and ever so many people saw them, and of course it was true; but la!
one wanted the thread, another the scissors, and another called out,
'Mrs. Peterson, do you overcast your seams or fell 'em?' Then Mrs.
Baker said, 'Why, Melia Parsons, you're making that little pair of
pants upside down, then they all hollered and yelled at Melia, and I
never tried to tell anything more about Dr. What-yer-call-him and his
cities; might just as well try to talk in a hornets' nest."

This speech produced so much merriment that the chairman playfully
called Mrs. Peterson to order, and the talk went on. Some thought a
course of history was "just the thing," in short, there were as many