Poor Deacon Brown in the prime of his life, had buried his loved and lonely wife.  And what in the world could the Deacon do with four small boy's and a baby too?  Joseph, Isek, Jessie & Paul and none but the Deacon to care for them all.  So he said to his neighbor Jones one day, in a kind of lonely sorta way.  "Say neighbor Jones, I'm sick indeed of this and it would brighten the gloom of my lonely life, if I only, well if I only had a wife."  And then my friend you are well aware, that my poor little babies in need of a mothers care.

There's a widow Smith, but don't you see, she isn't at all the woman for you.  I don't care for a pretty face a lovely maiden with a form of grace, but give me a woman of common sense and not a misserable bill of expense.  Well Deacon said Jones, with a comical sigh, a while a bushel of fun twinkled right in his eye.  I know of a woman my friend, she'd make you a tip top wife, my friend.  She lives at the border of Berry Town, and I'm sure she'd suit you, Deacon Brown.  She's not very handsom but then i suppose you wouldn't care a cent for the length of her nose, nor for the cut of the lady's clothes.  But when helpis needed you understand, Simtha Simpkins is right on hand.  She's always read to work out of doors, and help the men with all of the chores.

And as the Deacon turned to go, he said I'm much ablidged to you neighbor Jones.  The very next Sunday the Deacon dressed in his new plug hat, and his Sunday best.  He spent an hour drying his hair and he shaved his chin with the greatest of care.  For he said to himself as he drove away, on aught to dress well on the Sabath Day.  The day was warm and rather late as he tied his horse at Simtha's gate.  The farm looked neat and the yard was clean, why the farm was the slickets that could be seen.  This is the woman for me I trow, and wiped the sweat from his dripping brow.  he said no more as he gently knocked at the parlor door.

Thhere was a rush of heavy tread.  I guess it's a man the Deacon said.  The door was hastely opened wide, the frightened Deacon stepped aside.  For there was a dame of six foot two, who was supported with neither boot nor shoe.  And she'd just came in from her clean kept farm, for she carried a pitch fork under her arm.

I beg your pardon, continued he, it's Miss Simpkins I'd like to see.  Well said Simtha, that is me.  I persume you called to see about the hay I offered to sell the other day.  The Deacon didn't know what to say or how in the world to get away.  Say what do you want of me she cried, and stepped right up to the Deacon's side.  Nothing! he said in alarming grace, she slammed the door in the Deacons face.  The wonder is he didn't fall, for he went through the gate like a cannon ball.  And when he was safe from harm, a mile or so from Simtha's farm, he said to himself in smothering tones, if ever again tht wicked Jones crosses my path, I'll break his bones.

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