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Updated: June 13, 2025
He never dreamed of marrying any other woman than Susie Barringer, and she sometimes tried a new pen by writing and carefully erasing the initials S.M.G., which, as she was christened Susan Minerva, may be taken as showing the direction of her thoughts.
She was greatly grieved when she thought she had broken a young man's heart: she was still more dismal at the slightest intimation that she had not. If any explanation of this paradox is required, I would observe, quoting a phrase much in vogue among the witty writers of the present age, that Miss Susie Barringer was "a very female woman."
So that Dame Barringer was not in the least surprised, on entering her little parlor one soft afternoon in that very May, to see the two young people economically occupying one chair, and Susie shouting the useless appeal, "Mother, make him behave!"
"Wail, maybe so," said Golyer with a weary smile "leastways I've been a-running this spade into the ground all the morning, and " "You want buttermilk that's your idee: ain't it, now?" "Well, Mizzes Barringer, I reckon you know my failin's." The good woman trotted off to the dairy, and Susie sewed demurely, waiting with some trepidation for what was to come next.
Lincoln. When Mr. Rives, of Virginia, was introduced, Mr. Lincoln said: "I always had an idea that you were a much taller man." He received James B. Clay, son of the Kentucky statesman, with marked attention, saying to him: "I was a friend of your father." The interchange of greetings with Mr. Barringer, of North Carolina, who was his colleague in Congress, was very cordial.
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