ez he--

"Samantha, why not write a book on't?"

It started me, comin' so onexpected onto me, and specially sence he wuz
always so sot aginst my swingin' out in Literatoor.

I dropped two or three stitches in my inward agitation, but
instinctively I catched holt of my dignity, and kep calm on the outside.

And sez I, "Write a book on what, Josiah Allen?"

"Oh, about the World's Fair!" sez he.

"Wall," sez I, with a deep sithe, "I had thought on't, but I'd kinder
dreaded the job."

And he went on: "You know," sez he, "that We wrote one about the other
big Fair, and if We don't do as well by this one it'll make trouble,"
sez he.

"We!" sez I in my own mind, and in witherin' axents, but I kep calm on
the outside, and he went on--

"Our book," sez he, "that We wrote on the other big Fair in Filadelfy, I
spoze wuz thought as much on and wuz as popular for family readin' as
ever a President's message wuz; and after payin' attention to that as
We did, We hadn't ort to slight this one. We can't afford to," sez he.

"Can't afford to?" sez I dreamily.

"No; We can't afford to," sez he, "and keep Our present popularity. Now,
there's every chance, so fur as I can see, for me to be elected
Path-Master, and the high position of Salesman of the Jonesville Cheese
Factory has been as good as offered to me agin this year. It is because
We are popular," sez he, "that I have these positions of trust and honor
held out to me. We have wrote books that have _took_, Samantha. Now,
what would be the result if We should slight Columbus and turn Our backs
onto America in this crisis of her history? It would be simply ruinous
to Our reputation and my official aspirations. Everybody would be mad,
and kick, from the President down. More'n as likely as not I should
never hold another office in Jonesville. Cheese would be sold right over
my head by I know not who. I should be ordered out to work on the road
like a dog by Ury jest as like as not. I've been a-settin' here and
turnin' it over in my mind; and though, as you say, I hain't always
favored the idee of writin', still at the present time I believe We'd
better write the book. There's ink in the house, hain't there?" sez he
anxiously.

"Yes," sez I.

"And paper?" sez he.

Agin I sez, "Yes."

"Wall, then, when there's ink and paper, what's to hender Our writin'
it?"

"Our!" "We!" Agin them words entered my soul like lead arrows and
gaulded me, but agin I looked up, and the cl