(These last lines are my own eppisodin; he simply related the facts.)

There wuz associations on exhibition from all the different countries of the globe, of Christian workers of all kinds, in organizations, horsepitals, missionary fields, etc. from Loontown clear to Turkey.

The Turkish Compassionate Fund rousted up sights of emotions in me.  When you looked at the marvellous Oriental embroideries of the Mahommeden wimmen, you didn’t dispute that their work has devoloped a new art.

You see, them female Turkeys wuz drove from their homes by the Tigers, War, and Starvation, and the Baroness Burdette Coutts and Lady Layard bought the materials and organized this work.  There are two thousand engaged in it now.

Madame Zarcoff, who is in charge of it now, has a medal gin her by the Sultan, with “Charity” engraved on it in the language of the Turkeys.

I couldn’t read it, or Josiah.  But she told us what it wuz.

Wall, as I say, there wuz displays of every other kind of Christian work, and a-lookin’ over them records, and seein’ the benign faces of them wimmen who had led on the fight aginst the banded powers of Hell—­why, the tears jest run down my face some like rain water, and Josiah asked me anxiously, “If I wuz took with a cramp.”

And I sez, “No, fur from it.  I am took with the sperit of rejoicin’, and wonder, and thanksgivin’, and everything else.”

And he sez, “Wall, I wouldn’t stand up and cry; if I wuz a-goin’ to cry, I would set down to it.”

And agin I sez, as I had said before, “Josiah, you’re not a woman.”

And he sez, “No, indeed; you wouldn’t catch a man a-cryin’ because he wuz tickled about sunthin’; he would more likely snap his fingers, and whistle.”

But I heeded not his remarks, and we wended onwards.

And I see, with everything else under the sun, moon, and stars, a collection of all the kinds of flowers in the country, clear from Maine to California; and lots of the flowers preserved in their nateral colors.

And if you think this is a easy job, I can tell you that you are very much mistaken.

Why, jest a-walkin’ over to Miss Alexander Bobbet’ses, acrost lots, I have come acrost more than forty different kinds of wild flowers, and then, when I got there, I can’t begin to tell how many flowers she had in her dooryard.

More than a hundred, anyway; and then if I come home by she that wuz Submit Tewksbury—­why, my ‘rithmetic would fairly gin out a-countin’ before I got home; and then to think of all the broad acres of land, hills and valleys, mountains and forests between Oregon, and New Jersey, and Maine, and Florida, and California!

Wuz it a easy job that wimmen took on to themselves, then?

No, indeed; no, indeed!

But wimmen are ust to hard jobs, and if she begins ’em she will carry ’em out and finish ’em; as wuz proved by the cloak we see there, made of feathers, that took five years to make.