I suffered.

Josiah would set with the _World_ and other papers in his hand,
a-perusin' of 'em, while I would be a-washin' up my dishes, and the very
minute I would get 'em done and my sleeves rolled down, he would tackle
me, and often he wouldn't wait for me to get my work done up, or even
supper got, but would begin on me as I filled up my tea kettle, and keep
up a stiddy drizzle of argument till bed time, and as I say, when he
left off, the nite mairs would begin.

I suffered beyond tellin' almost.

The secont night of my arjuous labors on the meetin' house, he began
wild and eloquent about wimmen bein' on Conferences, and mountin'
rostrums. And sez he, "That is suthin' that we Methodist men can't
stand."

[Illustration: "IS ROSTRUMS MUCH HIGHER THAN THEM BARELLS TO STAND ON?"]

And I, havin' stood up on a barell all day a-scrapin' the ceilin', and
not bein' recuperated yet from the skairtness and dizziness of my day's
work, I sez to him:

"Is rostrums much higher than them barells we have to stand on to the
meetin' house?"

And Josiah said, "it wuz suthin' altogether different." And he assured
me agin,