Mrs.  Partington  was  in  the  country  one  August;  and  for  a  whole
month  not  one  drop  of  rain  had  fallen.  One  day  she  was  slowly  walking
along  the  road,  with  her  umbrella  over  her  head,  when  an  old  man,  who
was  mending  up  a  little  gap  of  wall,  accosted  her,  at  the  same  time
depositing  a  large  stone  upon  the  top  of  the  pile.
''Mrs.  Partington,  what  do  you  think  can  help  this 're  drought?*'

The  old  lady  looked  at  him  through  her  spectacles,  at  the  same  time
smelling  a  fern  leaf.
''I  think,*'  said  she  in  a  tone  of  oracular  wisdom,  "I  think  a  little
rain  would  help  it  as  much  as  anything."  It  was  a  great  thought.  The
old  gentleman  took  of!  his  straw  hat  and  wiped  his  head  with  his  cotton
handkerchief,  at  the  same  time  saying  that  he  thought  so  too.
"Does  Isaac  manifest  any  taste  for  poetry,  Mrs.  Partington?"  asked
the  schoolmaster's  wife,  while  conversing  on  the  merits  of  the  youthful
Partington.
The  old  lady  at  the  time  was  basting  a  chicken  which  her  friends  had
sent  her  from  the  country.
MRS.  PARTINGTON.  427

'*0h,  yesl*'  she  said,  smiling;  "he  is  very  partially  fond  of  poultry,
and  it  always  seems  as  if  he  can't  get  enoagh  of  it/'

The  old  spit  turned  by  the  fire-place  in  response  to  her  answer,  while
the  basting  was  going  on.
**1  mean,*'  said  the  lady,  ''does  he  show  any  of  the  divine  afflatus/'

The  old  lady  thought  a  moment.
