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diff --git a/3425-0.txt b/3425-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..62bd8db --- /dev/null +++ b/3425-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9301 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook of Samantha at Saratoga, by Marietta Holley + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you +will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before +using this eBook. + +Title: Samantha at Saratoga + +Author: Marietta Holley + +Release Date: April 26, 2001 [eBook #3425] +[Most recently updated: February 21, 2020] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +Produced by: an anonymous volunteer + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAMANTHA AT SARATOGA *** + +[Illustration] + + + + +Samantha at Saratoga + +by Marietta Holley + +Marietta Holley (1836-1926) has been called America’s first female +humorist. She was an extremely popular author and a well-known suffragette. +Holley, who never married, published her first books as Josiah Allen’s +Wife, only adding her own name after her success was established. She lived in +an 18 room home she built in Jefferson County, New York and drove a +Pierce-Arrow. Her legacy of more than 20 books has mostly been forgotten today +but they are still very good reading. + +I have no information about the illustrator. + + + Josiah + + TO THE GREAT ARMY OF SUMMER TRAMPS + + THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED + + BY THEIR COMRADE AND FELLOW WANDERER + THE AUTHOR + + * * * * * * * * * * * + + Samantha + + +Contents + + PREFACE + CHAPTER I. SAMANTHA AT SARATOGA + CHAPTER II. ARDELIA TUTT AND HER MOTHER + CHAPTER III. THE CHERITY OF THE JONESVILLIANS + CHAPTER IV. ARDELIA AND ABRAM GEE + CHAPTER V. WE ARRIVE AT SARATOGA + CHAPTER VI. SARATOGA BY DAYLIGHT + CHAPTER VII. SEEING THE DIFFERENT SPRINGS + CHAPTER VIII. JOSIAH AND SAMANTHA TAKE A LONG WALK + CHAPTER IX. JOSIAH’S FLIRTATIONS + CHAPTER X. MISS G. WASHINGTON FLAMM + CHAPTER XI. VISIT TO THE INDIAN ENCAMPMENT + CHAPTER XII. A DRIVE TO SARATOGA LAKE + CHAPTER XIII. VISITS TO NOTABLE PLACES + CHAPTER XIV. LAKE GEORGE AND MOUNT McGREGOR + HAPTER XV. ADVENTURES AT VARIOUS SPRINGS + CHAPTER XVI. AT A LAWN PARTY + CHAPTER XVII. A TRIP TO SCHUYLERVILLE + CHAPTER XVIII. THE SOCIAL SCIENCE MEETING + CHAPTER XIX. ST. CHRISTINA’S HOME + CHAPTER XX. AN ACCIDENT WITH RESULTS + + + + +A SORT OF PREFACE. +WHICH IT IS NOT NECESSARY TO READ. + + +When Josiah read my dedication he said “it wuz a shame to dedicate a +book that it had took most a hull bottle of ink to write, to a lot of +creeters that he wouldn’t have in the back door yard.” + +But I explained it to him, that I didn’t mean tramps with broken hats, +variegated pantaloons, ventilated shirt-sleeves, and barefooted. But I +meant tramps with diamond ear-rings, and cuff-buttons, and Saratoga +trunks, and big accounts at their bankers. + +And he said, “Oh, shaw!” + +But I went on nobly, onmindful of that shaw, as female pardners have to +be, if they accomplish all the talkin’ they want to. + +And sez I, “It duz seem sort o’ pitiful, don’t it, to think how sort o’ +homeless the Americans are a gettin’? How the posys that blow under the +winders of Home are left to waste their sweet breaths amongst the +weeds, while them that used to love ’em are a climbin’ mountain tops +after strange nosegays.” + +The smoke that curled up from the chimbleys, a wreathin’ its way up to +the heavens—all dead and gone. The bright light that shone out of the +winder through the dark a tellin’ everybody that there wuz a Home, and +some one a waitin’ for somebody—all dark and lonesome. + +Yes, the waiter and the waited for are all a rushin’ round somewhere, +on the cars, mebby, or a yot, a chasin’ Pleasure, that like as not +settled right down on the eves of the old house they left, and stayed +there. + +I wonder if they will find her there when they go back again. Mebby +they will, and then agin, mebby they won’t. For Happiness haint one to +set round and lame herself a waitin’ for folks to make up their minds. + +Sometimes she looks folks full in the face, sort o’ solemn like and +heart-searchin’, and gives ’em a fair chance what they will chuse. And +then if they chuse wrong, shee’ll turn her back to ’em, for always. +I’ve hearn of jest such cases. + +But it duz seem sort o’ solemn to think—how the sweet restful felin’s +that clings like ivy round the old familier door steps—where old 4 +fathers feet stopped, and stayed there, and baby feet touched and then +went away—I declare for’t, it almost brings tears, to think how that +sweet clingin’ vine of affection, and domestic repose, and content—how +soon that vine gets tore up nowadays. + +It is a sort of a runnin’ vine anyway, and folks use it as sech, they +run with it. Jest as it puts its tendrils out to cling round some fence +post, or lilock bush, they pull it up, and start off with it. And then +its roots get dry, and it is some time before it will begin to put out +little shoots and clingin’ leaves agin round some petickular mountain +top, or bureau or human bein’. And then it is yanked up agin, poor +little runnin’ vine, and run with—and so on—and so on—and so on. + +Why sometimes it makes me fairly heart-sick to think on’t. And I fairly +envy our old 4 fathers, who used to set down for several hundred years +in one spot. They used to get real rested, it must be they did. + +Jacob now, settin’ right by that well of his’n for pretty nigh two +hundred years. How much store he must have set by it during the last +hundred years of ’em! How attached he must have been to it! + +Good land! Where is there a well that one of our rich old American +patriarks will set down by for two years, leavin’ off the orts. There +haint none, there haint no such a well. Our patriarks haint fond of +well water, anyway. + +And old Miss Abraham now, and Miss Isaac—what stay to home wimmen they +wuz, and equinomical! + +What a good contented creeter Sarah Abraham wuz. How settled down, and +stiddy, stayin’ right to home for hundreds of years. Not gettin’ +rampent for a wider spear, not a coaxin’ old Mr. Abraham nights to take +her to summer resorts, and winter hants of fashion. + +No, old Mr. Abraham went to bed, and went to sleep for all of her. + +And when they did once in a hundred years, or so, make up their minds +to move on a mile or so, how easy they traveled. Mr. Abraham didn’t +have to lug off ten or twelve wagon loads of furniture to the Safe +Deposit Company, and spend weeks and weeks a settlin’ his bisness, in +Western lands, and Northern mines, Southern railroads, and Eastern +wildcat stocks, to get ready to go. And Miss Abraham didn’t have to +have a dozen dress-makers in the house for a month or two, and +messenger boys, and dry goods clerks, and have to stand and be fitted +for basks and polenays, and back drapery, and front drapery, and tea +gowns, and dinner gowns, and drivin’ gowns, and mornin’ gowns, and +evenin’ gowns, and etectery, etcetery, etcetery. + +No, all the preperations she had to make wuz to wrop her mantilly a +little closter round her, and all Mr. Abraham had to do wuz to gird up +his lions. That is what it sez. And I don’t believe it would take much +time to gird up a few lions, it don’t seem to me as if it would. + +And when these few simple preperations had been made, they jest histed +up their tent and laid it acrost a camel, and moved on a mild or two, +walkin’ afoot. + +Why jest imagine if Miss Abraham had to travel with eight or ten big +Saratoga trunks, how could they have been got up onto that camel? It +couldn’t lave been done. The camel would have died, and old Mr. Abraham +would also have expired a tryin’ to lift ’em up. No, it was all for the +best. + +And jest think on’t, for all of these simple, stay to home ways, they +called themselves Pilgrims and Sojourners. Good land! What would they +have thought nowadays to see folks make nothin’ of settin’ off for +China, or Japan or Jerusalem before breakfast. + +And what did they know of the hardships of civilization? Now to sposen +the case, sposen Miss Abraham had to live in New York winters, and go +to two or three big receptions every day, and to dinner parties, and +theatre parties, and operas and such like, evenin’s, and receive and +return about three thousand calls, and be on more ’n a dozen charitable +boards (hard boards they be too, some on ’em) and lots of other +projects and enterprizes—be on the go the hull winter, with a dress so +tight she couldn’t breathe instead of her good loose robes, and instead +of her good comfortable sandals have her feet upon high-heeled shoes +pinchin’ her corns almost unto distraction. And then to Washington to +go all through it agin, and more too, and Florida, and Cuba; and then +to the sea-shore and have it all over agin with sea bathin’ added. + +And then to the mountains, and all over agin with climbin’ round added. +Then to Europe, with seas sickness, picture galleries, etc., added. And +so on home agin in the fall to begin it all over agin. + +Why Miss Abraham would be so tuckered out before she went half through +with one season, that she would be a dead 4 mother. + +And Mr. Abraham—why one half hour down at the stock exchange would have +been too much for that good old creeter. The yells and cries, and +distracted movements of the crowd of Luker Gatherers there, would have +skairt him to death. He never would have lived to follow Miss Abraham +round from pillow to post through summer and winter seasons—he wouldn’t +have lived to waltz, or toboggen, or suffer other civilized agonies. +No, he would have been a dead patriark. And better off so, I almost +think. + +Not but what I realize that civilization has its advantages. Not but +what I know that if Mr. Abraham wanted Miss Abraham to part his hair +straight, or clean off his phylackrity when she happened to be out a +pickin’ up manny, he couldn’t stand on one side of his tent and +telephone to bring her back, but had to yell at her. + +And I realize fully that if one of his herd got strayed off into +another county, they hadn’t no telegraf to head it off, but the old man +had to poke off through rain or sun, and hunt it up himself. And he +couldn’t set down cross-legged in front of his tent in the mornin’, and +read what happened on the other side of the world, the evenin’ before. + +And I know that if he wanted to set down some news, they had to kill a +sheep, and spend several years a dressin’ off the hide into +parchment—and kill a goose, or chase it up till they wuz beat out, for +a goose-quill. + +And then after about 20 years or so, they could put it down that Miss +Isaac had got a boy—the boy, probably bein’ a married man himself and a +father when the news of his birth wuz set down. + +I realize this, and also the great fundimental fact that underlies all +philosophies, that you can’t set down and stand up at the same time—and +that no man, however pure and lofty his motives may be, can’t lean up +against a barn door, and walk off simultanious. And if he don’t walk +off, then the great question comes in, How will he get there? And he +feels lots of times that he must stand up so’s to bring his head up +above the mullien and burdock stalks, amongst which he is a settin’, +and get a wider view-a broader horizeon. And he feels lots of time, +that he must get there. + +This is a sort of a curius world, and it makes me feel curius a good +deal of the time as we go through it. But we have to make allowances +for it, for the old world is on a tramp, too. It can’t seem to stop a +minute to oil up its old axeltrys—it moves on, and takes us with it. It +seems to be in a hurry. + +Everything seems to be in a hurry here below. And some say Heaven is a +place of continual sailin’ round and goin’ up and up all the time. But +while risin’ up and soarin’ is a sweet thought to me, still sometimes I +love to think that Heaven is a place where I can set down, and set for +some time. + +I told Josiah so (waked him up, for he wuz asleep), and he said he sot +more store on the golden streets, and the wavin’ palms, and the +procession of angels. (And then he went to sleep agin.) + +But I don’t feel so. I’d love, as I say, to jest set down for quite a +spell, and set there, to be kinder settled down and to home with them +whose presence makes a home anywhere. I wouldn’t give a cent to sail +round unless I wuz made to know it wuz my duty to sail. Josiah wants +to. + +But, as I say, everybody is in a hurry. Husbands can’t hardly find time +to keep up a acquaintance with their wives. Fathers don’t have no time +to get up a intimate acquaintance with their children. Mothers are in +such a hurry—babys are in such a hurry—that they can’t scarcely find +time to be born. And I declare for’t, it seems sometimes as if folks +don’t want to take time to die. + +The old folks at home wait with faithful, tired old eyes for the letter +that don’t come, for the busy son or daughter hasn’t time to write +it—no, they are too busy a tearin’ up the running vine of affection and +home love, and a runnin’ with it. + +Yes, the hull nation is in a hurry to get somewhere else, to go on, it +can’t wait. It is a trampin’ on over the Western slopes, a trampin’ +over red men, and black men, and some white men a hurryin’ on to the +West—hurryin’ on to the sea. And what then? + +Is there a tide of restfulness a layin’ before it? Some cool waters of +repose where it will bathe its tired forward, and its stun-bruised +feet, and set there for some time? + +I don’t s’pose so. I don’t s’pose it is in its nater to. I s’pose it +will look off longingly onto the far off somewhere that lays over the +waters—beyend the sunset. + +JOSIAH ALLEN’S WIFE. + + +NEW YORK, June, 1887. + + + + +Chapter I. +SAMANTHA AT SARATOGA. + + +The idee on’t come to me one day about sundown, or a little before +sundown. I wuz a settin’ in calm peace, and a big rockin’ chair covered +with a handsome copperplate, a readin’ what the Sammist sez about +“Vanity, vanity, all is vanity.” The words struck deep, and as I said, +it was jest that very minute that the idee struck me about goin’ to +Saratoga. Why I should have had the idee at jest that minute, I can’t +tell, nor Josiah can’t. We have talked about it sense. + +But good land! such creeters as thoughts be never wuz, nor never will +be. They will creep in, and round, and over anything, and get inside of +your mind (entirely unbeknown to you) at any time. Curious, haint +it?—How you may try to hedge ’em out, and shet the doors and +everything. But they will creep up into your mind, climb up and draw up +their ladders, and there they will be, and stalk round independent as +if they owned your hull head; curious! + +Well, there the idee wuz—I never knew nothin’ about it, nor how it got +there. But there it wuz, lookin’ me right in the face of my soul, +kinder pert and saucy, sayin’, “You’d better go to Saratoga next +summer; you and Josiah.” + +But I argued with it. Sez I, “What should we go to Saratoga for? None +of the relations live there on my side, or on hison; why should we go?” + +But still that idee kep’ a hantin me; “You’d better go to Saratoga next +summer, you and Josiah.” And it whispered, “Mebby it will help Josiah’s +corns.” (He is dretful troubled with corns.) And so the idee kep’ a +naggin’ me, it nagged me for three days and three nights before I +mentioned it to my Josiah. And when I did, he scorfed at the idee. He +said, “The idee of water curing them dumb corns—“ + +Sez I, “Josiah Allen, stranger things have been done;” sez I, “that +water is very strong. It does wonders.” + +And he scorfed agin and sez, “Don’t you believe faith could cure em?” + +Josiah in woodlot + +Sez I, “If it wuz strong enough it could.” + +But the thought kep a naggin’ me stiddy, and then—here is the curious +part of it—the thought nagged me, and I nagged Josiah, or not exactly +nagged; not a clear nag; I despise them, and always did. But I kinder +kep’ it before his mind from day to day, and from hour to hour. And the +idee would keep a tellin’ me things and I would keep a tellin’ ’em to +my companion. The idee would keep a sayin’ to me, “It is one of the +most beautiful places in our native land. The waters will help you, the +inspirin’ music, and elegance and gay enjoyment you will find there, +will sort a uplift you. You had better go there on a tower;” and agin +it sez, “Mebby it will help Josiah’s corns.” + +And old Dr. Gale a happenin’ in at about that time, I asked him about +it (he doctored me when I wuz a baby, and I have helped ’em for years. +Good old creetur, he don’t get along as well as he ort to. Loontown is +a healthy place.) I told him about my strong desire to go to Saratoga, +and I asked him plain if he thought the water would help my pardner’s +corns. And he looked dreadful wise and he riz up and walked across the +floor 2 and fro several times, probably 3 times to, and the same number +of times fro, with his arms crossed back under the skirt of his coat +and his eyebrows knit in deep thought, before he answered me. Finely he +said, that modern science had not fully demonstrated yet the direct +bearing of water on corn. In some cases it might and probably did +stimulate ’em to greater luxuriance, and then again a great flow of +water might retard their growth. + +Sez I, anxiously, “Then you’d advise me to go there with him?” + +“Yes,” sez he, “on the hull, I advise you to go.” + +Samantha and Dr. Gale + +Them words I reported to Josiah, and sez I in anxious axents, “Dr. Gale +advises us to go.” + +And Josiah sez, “I guess I shan’t mind what that old fool sez.” + +Them wuz my pardner’s words, much as I hate to tell on ’em. But from +day to day I kep’ it stiddy before him, how dang’r’us it wuz to go +ag’inst a doctor’s advice. And from day to day he would scorf at the +plan. And I, ev’ry now and then, and mebby oftener, would get him a +extra good meal, and attack him on the subject immegatly afterwards. +But all in vain. And I see that when he had that immovible sotness onto +him, one extra meal wouldn’t soften or molify him. No, I see plain I +must make a more voyalent effort. And I made it. For three stiddy days +I put before that man the best vittles that these hands could make, or +this brain could plan. + +And at the end of the 3d day I gently tackled him agin on the subject, +and his state wuz such, bland, serene, happified, that he consented +without a parlay. And so it wuz settled that the next summer we wuz to +go to Saratoga. And he began to count on it and make preparation in a +way that I hated to see. + +Yes, from the very minute that our two minds wuz made up to go to +Saratoga Josiah Allen wuz set on havin’ sunthin new and uneek in the +way of dress and whiskers. I looked coldly on the idee of puttin’ a gay +stripe down the legs of the new pantaloons I made for him, and broke it +up, also a figured vest. I went through them two crisises and came out +triumphent. + +Then he went and bought a new bright pink necktie with broad long ends +which he intended to have float out, down the front of his vest. And I +immegatly took it for the light-colored blocks in my silk log-cabin +bedquilt. Yes, I settled the matter of that pink neck-gear with a high +hand and a pair of shears. And Josiah sez now that he bought it for +that purpose, for the bedquilt, because he loves to see a dressy +quilt,—sez he always enjoys seein’ a cabin look sort o’ gay. But good +land! he didn’t. He intended and calculated to wear that neck-tie into +Saratoga,—a sight for men and angels, if I hadn’t broke it up. + +But in the matter of whiskers, there I was powerless. He trimmed ’em +(unbeknow to me) all off the side of his face, them good honerable side +whiskers of hisen, that had stood by him for years in solemnity and +decency, and begun to cultivate a little patch on the end of his chin. +I argued with him, and talked well on the subject, eloquent, but it wuz +of no use, I might as well have argued with the wind in March. + +He said, he wuz bound on goin’ into Saratoga with a fashionable +whisker, come what would. + +And then I sithed, and he sez,—“ You have broke up my pantaloons, my +vest, and my neck-tie, you have ground me down onto plain broadcloth, +but in the matter of whiskers I am firm! Yes!” sez he “on these +whiskers I take my stand!” + +And agin I sithed heavy, and I sez in a dretful impressive way, as I +looked on ’em, “Josiah Allen, remember you are a father and a +grandfather!” + +And he sez firmly, “If I wuz a great-grandfather I would trim my +whiskers in jest this way, that is if I wuz a goin’ to set up to be +fashionable and a goin’ to Saratoga for my health.” + +And I groaned kinder low to myself, and kep’ hopin’ that mebby they +wouldn’t grow very fast, or that some axident would happen to ’em, that +they would get afire or sunthin’. But they didn’t. And they grew from +day to day luxurient in length, but thin. And his watchful care kep’ +’em from axident, and I wuz too high princepled to set fire to ’em when +he wuz asleep, though sometimes, on a moonlight night, I was tempted +to, sorely tempted. + +But I didn’t, and they grew from day to day, till they wuz the +curiusest lookin’ patch o’ whiskers that I ever see. And when we sot +out for Saratoga, they wuz jest about as long as a shavin’ brush, and +looked some like one. There wuz no look of a class-leader, and a +perfesser about ’em, and I told him so. But he worshiped ’em, and +gloried in the idee of goin’ afar to show ’em off. + +But the neighbors received the news that we wuz goin’ to a waterin’ +place coldly, or with ill-concealed envy. + +Uncle Jonas Bently told us he shouldn’t think we would want to go round +to waterin’ troughs at our age. + +And I told him it wuzn’t a waterin’ trough, and if it wuz, I thought +our age wuz jest as good a one as any, to go to it. + +He had the impression that Saratoga wuz a immense waterin’ trough where +the country all drove themselves summers to be watered. He is deef as a +Hemlock post, and I yelled up at him jest as loud as I dast for fear of +breakin’ open my own chest, that the water got into us, instid of our +gettin’ into the water, but I didn’t make him understand, for I hearn +afterwards of his sayin’ that, as nigh as he could make out we all got +into the waterin’ trough and wuz watered. + +The school teacher, a young man, with long, small lims, and some +pimpley on the face, but well meanin’, he sez to me: “Saratoga is a +beautiful spah.” + +Samantha and the school teacher + +And I sez warmly, “It aint no such thing, it is a village, for I have +seen a peddler who went right through it, and watered his horses there, +and he sez it is a waterin’ place, and a village.” + +“Yes,” sez he, “it is a beautiful village, a modest retiren city, and +at the same time it is the most noted spah on this continent.” + +I wouldn’t contend with him for it wuz on the stoop of the meetin’ +house, and I believe in bein’ reverent. But I knew it wuzn’t no +“spah,”—that had a dreadful flat sound to me. And any way I knew I +should face its realities soon and know all about it. Lots of wimen +said that for anybody who lived right on the side of a canal, and had +two good, cisterns on the place, and a well, they didn’t see why I +should feel in a sufferin’ condition for any more water; and if I did, +why didn’t I ketch rain water? + +Such wuz some of the deep arguments they brung up aginst my embarkin’ +on this enterprise, they talked about it sights and sights;—why, it +lasted the neighbors for a stiddy conversation, till along about the +middle of the winter. Then the Minister’s wife bought a new alpacky +dress—unbeknown to the church till it wuz made up—and that kind o’ +drawed their minds off o’ me for a spell. + +Aunt Polly Pixley wuz the only one who received the intelligence +gladly. And she thought she would go too. She had been kinder run down +and most bed rid for years. And she had a idee the water might help +her. And I encouraged Aunt Polly in the idee, for she wuz well off. +Yes, Mr. and Miss Pixley wuz very well off though they lived in a +little mite of a dark, low, lonesome house, with some tall Pollard +willows in front of the door in a row, and jest acrost the road from a +grave-yard. + +Her husband had been close and wuzn’t willin’ to have any other luxury +or means of recreation in the house only a bass viol, that had been his +father’s—he used to play on that for hours and hours. I thought that +wuz one reason why Polly wuz so nervous. I said to Josiah that it would +have killed me outright to have that low grumblin’ a goin’ on from day +to day, and to look at them tall lonesome willows and grave stuns. + +But, howsumever, Polly’s husband had died durin’ the summer, and Polly +parted with the bass viol the day after the funeral. She got out some +now, and wuz quite wrought up with the idee of goin’ to Saratoga. + +But Sister Minkley; sister in the church and sister-in-law by reason of +Wbitefield, sez to me, that she should think I would think twice before +I danced and waltzed round waltzes. + +And I sez, “I haint thought of doin’ it, I haint thought of dancin’ +round or square or any other shape.” + +Sez she, “You have got to, if you go to Saratoga.” + +Sez I, “Not while life remains in this frame.” + +And old Miss Bobbet came up that minute—it wuz in the store that we +were a talkin’—and sez she, “It seems to me, Josiah Allen’s wife, that +you are too old to wear low-necked dresses and short sleeves.” + +“And I should think you’d take cold a goin’ bareheaded,” sez Miss Luman +Spink who wuz with her. + +Sez I, lookin’ at ’em coldly, “Are you lunys or has softness begun on +your brains?” + +“Why,” sez they, “you are talking about goin’ to Saratoga, hain’t you?” + +“Yes,” sez I. + +“Well then you have got to wear ’em,” says Miss Bobbet. “They don’t let +anybody inside of the incorporation without they have got on a +low-necked dress and short sleeves.” + +“And bare-headed,” sez Miss Spink; “if they have’ got a thing on their +heads they won’t let ’em in.” + +Sez I, “I don’t believe it” + +Sez Miss Bobbet, “It is so, for I hearn it, and hearn it straight. +James Robbets’s wife’s sister had a second cousin who lived neighbor to +a woman whose niece had been there, been right there on the spot. And +Celestine Bobbet, Uncle Ephraim’s Celestine, hearn it from James’es +wife when she wuz up there last spring, it come straight. They all have +to go in low necks.” + +“And not a mite of anything on their heads,” says Miss Spink. + +Sez I in sarcastical axents, “Do men have to go in low necks too?” + +“No,” says Miss Bobbet. “But they have to have the tails of their coats +kinder pinted. Why,” sez she, “I hearn of a man that had got clear to +the incorporation and they wouldn’t let him in because his coat kinder +rounded off round the bottom, so he went out by the side of the road +and pinned up his coat tails, into a sort of a pinted shape, and good +land the incorporation let him right in, and never said a word.” + +I contended that these things wuzn’t so, but I found it wuz the +prevailin’ opinion. For when I went to see the dressmaker about makin’ +me a dress for the occasion, I see she felt just like the rest about +it. My dress wuz a good black alpacky. I thought I would have it begun +along in the edge of the winter, when she didn’t have so much to do, +and also to have it done on time. We laid out to start on the follerin’ +July, and I felt that I wanted everything ready. + +I bought the dress the 7th day of November early in the forenoon, the +next day after my pardner consented to go, and give 65 cents a yard for +it, double wedth. I thought I could get it done on time, dressmakers +are drove a good deal. But I felt that a dressmaker could commence a +dress in November and get it done the follerin’ July, without no great +strain bein’ put onto her; and I am fur from bein’ the one to put +strains onto wimmen, and hurry ’em beyend their strength. But I felt +Almily had time to make it on honor and with good buttonholes. + +“Well,” she sez, the first thing after she had unrolled the alpacky, +and held it up to the light to see if it was firm—sez she: + +“I s’pose you are goin’ to have it made with a long train, and low neck +and short sleeves, and the waist all girted down to a taper?” + +I wuz agast at the idee, and to think Alminy should broach it to me, +and I give her a piece of my mind that must have lasted her for days +and days. It wuz a long piece, and firm as iron. But she is a woman who +likes to have the last word and carry out her own idees, and she +insisted that nobody was allowed in Saratoga—that they wuz outlawed, +and laughed at if they didn’t have trains and low necks, and little +mites of waists no bigger than pipe-stems. + +Sez I, “Alminy Hagidone, do you s’pose that I, a woman of my age, and a +member of the meetin’ house, am a goin’ to wear a low-necked dress?” + +“Why not?,” sez she, “it is all the fashion and wimmen as old agin as +you be wear ’em.” + +Well, sez I, “It is a shame and a disgrace if they do, to say nothin’ +of the wickedness of it. Who do you s’pose wants to see their old skin +and bones? It haint nothin’ pretty anyway. And as fer the waists bein’ +all girted up and drawed in, that is nothin’ but crushed bones and +flesh and vitals, that is just crowdin’ down your insides into a state +o’ disease and deformity, torturin’ your heart down so’s the blood +can’t circulate, and your lungs so’s you can’t breathe, it is nothin’ +but slow murder anyway, and if I ever take it into my head to kill +myself, Alminy Hagidone, I haint a goin’ to do it in a way of perfect +torture and torment to me, I’d ruther be drownded.” + +She quailed, and I sez, “I am one that is goin’ to take good long +breaths to the very last.” She see I wuz like iron aginst the idee of +bein’ drawed in, and tapered, and she desisted. I s’pose I did look +skairful. But she seemed still to cling to the idee of low necks and +trains, and she sez sort a rebukingly: + +“You ortn’t to go to Saratoga if you haint willin’ to do as the rest +do. I spose,” sez she dreamily, “the streets are full of wimmen a +walkin’ up and down with long trains a hangin’ down and sweepin’ the +streets, and ev’ry one on ’em with low necks and short sleeves, and all +on ’em a flirting with some man” + +“Truly,” sez I, “if that is so, that is why the idee come to me. I am +_needed_ there. I have a high mission to perform about. But I don’t +believe it is so.” + +“Then you won’t have it made with a long train?” sez she, a holdin’ up +a breadth of the alpacky in front of me, to measure the skirt. + +“No mom!” sez I, and there wuz both dignity and deep resolve in that +“mom.” It wuz as firm and stern principled a “mom” as I ever see, +though I say it that shouldn’t. And I see it skairt her. She measured +off the breadths kinder trembly, and seemed so anxious to pacify me +that she got it a leetle shorter in the back than it wuz in the front. +And (for the same reason) it fairly clicked me in the neck it wuz so +high, and the sleeves wuz that long that I told Josiah Allen (in +confidence) I was tempted to knit some loops across the bottom of ’em +and wear ’em for mits. + +But I didn’t, and I didn’t change the dress neither. Thinkses I, mebby +it will have a good moral effect on them other old wimmen there. +Thinkses I, when they see another woman melted and shortened and choked +fur principle’s sake, mebby they will pause in their wild careers. + +Wall, this wuz in November, and I wuz to have the dress, if it wuz a +possible thing, by the middle of April, so’s to get it home in time to +sew some lace in the neck. And so havin’ everything settled about goin’ +I wuz calm in my frame most all the time, and so wuz my pardner. + +And right here, let me insert this one word of wisdom for the special +comfort of my sect and yet it is one that may well be laid to heart by +the more opposite one. If your pardner gets restless and oneasy and +middlin’ cross, as pardners will be anon, or even oftener—start them +off on a tower. A tower will in 9 cases out of 10 lift ’em out of their +oneasiness, their restlessness and their crossness. + +_Why_ this is so I cannot tell, no more than I can explain other +mysteries of creation, but I know it is so. I know they will come home +more placider, more serener, and more settled-downer. Why I have known +a short tower to Slab City or Loontown act like a charm on my pardner, +when crossness wuz in his mean and snappishness wuz present with him. I +have known him to set off with the mean of a lion and come back with +the liniment of a lamb. Curious, haint it? + +And jest the prospect of a tower ahead is a great help to a woman in +rulin’ and keepin’ a pardner straight and right in his liniments and +his acts. Somehow jest the thought of a tower sort a lifts him up in +mind, and happifys him, and makes him easier to quell, and pardners +_must_ be quelled at times, else there would be no livin’ with ’em. +This is known to all wimmen companions and and men too. Great great is +the mystery of pardners. + +Josiah mad and happy + + + + +Chapter II. +ARDELLA TUTT AND HER MOTHER. + + +But to resoom and continue on. I was a settin’ one day, after it wuz +all decided, and plans laid on; I wuz a settin’ by the fire a mendin’ +one of Josiah’s socks. I wuz a settin’ there, as soft and pliable in my +temper as the woosted I wuz a darnin’ ’em with, my Josiah at the same +time a peacefelly sawin’ wood in the wood-house, when I heard a rap at +the door and I riz up and opened it, and there stood two perfect +strangers, females. I, with a perfect dignity and grace (and with the +sock still in my left hand) asked ’em to set down, and consequently +they sot. Then ensued a slight pause durin’ which my two gray eyes +roamed over the females before me. + +The oldest one wuz very sharp in her face and had a pair of small round +eyes that seemed when they were sot onto you to sort a bore into you +like two gimlets. Her nose was very sharp and defient, as if it wuz +constantly sayin’ to itself, “I am a nose to be looked up to, I am a +nose to be respected, and feared if necessary.” Her chin said the same +thing, and her lips which wuz very thin, and her elbow, which wuz very +sharp. + +Her dress was a stiff sort of a shinin’ poplin, made tight acrost the +chest and elboes. And her hat had some stiff feathers in it that stood +up straight and sort a sharp lookin’. She had a long sharp breast-pin +sort a stabbed in through the front of her stiff standin’ collar, and +her knuckles sot out through her firm lisle thread gloves, her umberell +wuz long and wound up hard, to that extent I have never seen before nor +sense. She wuz, take it all in all, a hard sight, and skairful. + +The other one wuzn’t no more like her in looks than a soft fat young +cabbage head is like the sharp bean pole that it grows up by the side +on, in the same garden. She wuz soft in her complexion, her lips, her +cheeks, her hands, and as I mistrusted at that first minute, and found +out afterwards, soft in her head too. Her dress wuz a loose-wove +parmetty, full in the waist and sort a drabbly round the bottom. Her +hat wuz drab-colored felt with some loose ribbon bows a hangin’ down on +it, and some soft ostridge tips. She had silk mits on and her hands wuz +fat and kinder moist-lookin’. Her eyes wuz very large and round, and +blue, and looked sort o’ dreamy and wanderin’ and there wuz a kind of a +wrapped smile on her face all the time. She had a roll of paper in her +hand and I didn’t dislike her looks a mite. + +Finally the oldest female opened her lips, some as a steel trap would +open sudden and kinder sharp, and sez she: “I am Miss Deacon Tutt, of +Tuttville, and this is my second daughter Ardelia. Cordelia is my +oldest, and I have 4 younger than Ardelia.” + +I bowed real polite and said, “I wuz glad to make the acquaintance of +the hull 7 on ’em.” I can be very genteel when I set out, almost +stylish. + +“I s’pose,” says she, “I am talkin’ to Josiah Allen’s wife?” + +I gin her to understand that that wuz my name and my station, and she +went on, and sez she: “I have hearn on you through my husband’s 2d +cousin, Cephas Tutt.” + +“Cephas,” sez she, “bein’ wrote to by me on the subject of Ardelia, the +same letter containin’ seven poems of hern, and on bein’ asked to point +out the quickest way to make her name and fame known to the world at +large, wrote back that he havin’ always dealt in butter and lard, +wuzn’t up to the market price in poetry, and that you would be a good +one to go to for advice. And so,” sez she a pointin’ to a bag she +carried on her arm (a hard lookin’ bag made of crash with little +bullets and knobs of embroidery on it), “and so we took this bag full +of Ardelia’s poetry and come on the mornin’ train, Cephas’es letter +havin’ reached us at nine o’clock last night. I am a woman of +business.” + +The bag would hold about 4 quarts and it wuz full. I looked at it and +sithed. + +“I see,” sez she, “that you are sorry that we didn’t bring more poetry +with us. But we thought that this little batch would give you a idee of +what a mind she has, what a glorious, soarin’ genus wuz in front of +you, and we could bring more the next time we come.” + +I sithed agin, three times, but Miss Tutt didn’t notice ’em a mite no +more’n they’d been giggles or titters. She wouldn’t have took no notice +of them. She wuz firm and decided doin’ her own errent, and not payin’ +no attention to anything, nor anybody else. + +“Ardelia, read the poem you have got under your arm to Miss Allen! The +bag wuz full of her longer ones,” sez she, “but I felt that I _must_ +let you hear her poem on Spring. It is a gem. I felt it would be +wrongin’ you, not to give you that treat. Read it Ardelia.” + +I see Ardelia wuz used to obeyin’ her ma. She opened the sheet to once, +and begun. It wuz as follows: + +“ARDELIA TUTT ON SPRING.” + +“Oh spring, sweet spring, thou comest in the spring; +Thou comest in the spring time of the year. +We fain would have thee come in Autumn; fling- +est thou so sad a shade, oh Spring, so dear? + +“So dear the hopes thou draggest in thy rear, +So mournful, and so wan, and not so sweet; +So weird thou art, and oh, all! all! too dear +Art thou, alas! oh mournful spring; my ear— + +“My ear that long did lay at gate of hope, +Prone at the gate while years glided by— +I fain would lift that ear, alas, why cope +With cruel wrong, it must lie there so heavy ’tis my eye— + +“My eye, I fling o’er buried ruins long, +I flung it there, regardless of the loss; +That eye, I fain would gather in with song; +In vain! ’tis gone, I bow and own the cross. + +“Dear ear, lone eye, sweet buried hopes, alas, +I give thee to the proud inexorable main; +Deep calls to deep, and it doth not reply, +But sayeth my heart, they will not be mine own again.” + + +Ardelia reads + +Jest the minute Ardelia stopped readin’ Miss Tatt says proudly: “There! +haint that a remarkable poem,?” + +Sez I, calmly, “Yes it is a remarkable one.” + +“Did you ever hear anything like it?” says she, triumphly. + +“No,” sez I honestly, “I never did.” + +“Ardelia, read the poem on Little Ardelia Cordelia; give Miss Allen the +treat of hearin’ that beautiful thing.” + +I sort a sithed low to myself; it wuz more of a groan than a common +sithe, but Miss Tutt didn’t heed it, she kep’ right on— + +“I have always brought up my children to make other folks happy, all +they can, and in rehearsin’ this lovely and remarkable poem, Ardelia +will be not only makin’ you perfectly happy, givin’ you a rich +intellectual feast, that you can’t often have, way out here in the +country, fur from Tuttville; but she will also be attendin’ to the +business that brought us here. I have always fetched my children up to +combine joy and business; weld ’em together like brass and steel. +Ardelia, begin!” + +So Ardelia commenced agin’. It wuz wrote on a big sheet of paper and a +runnin’ vine wuz a runnin’ all ’round the edge of the paper, made with +a pen, it was as follows: + +“STANZAS ENTITLED +“SWEET LITTLE THING. + +“Wrote on the death of Ardelia Cordelia, who died at the age of seven +days and seven hours.” + +“Sweet little thing, that erst so soon did bloom, +And didest but fade, as falls the mystic flower! +Sweet little thing, we did but erst low croon +To thee a plaintive lay, and lo! for hour and hour— +Sweet little thing. + +“For hours we sang to thee of high emprise, the songs of hope +Though aged but week (and seven hours) thou laughested in thy sleep; +We cling to that in peace, though mope +The dullard knave, and biddest us go and weep— +Sweet little thing. + +“Thou laughested at high emprise, and yet, in sooth, +’Twere craven to say thou couldst not rise +To scale the mounts! to soar the cliffs! if worth +Were the test, twice worthy thou, in that the merit lies— +Sweet little thing. + +“Thy words that might have shook the breathless world with might; +Alas! I catchested not on any earthly ground, +That voice that might have guided nations high aright, +Congealed within thy tiny windpipe ’twas, it did not steal around— +Sweet little thing. + +“Sweet little thing, so soon thy wings unfurled +A wing, a feather lone low floated up the yard; +A world might weep, a world might stand appalled, +To hear it low rehearsed by tearful female bard— +Sweet little thing.” + + +Jest as soon as Ardelia stopped rehearsin’ the verses, Miss Tutt sez +agin to me: + +“Haint that a most remarkable poem?” + +And agin I sez calmly, and trutbfully, “Yes, it is a very remarkable +one!” + +“And now,” sez Miss Tutt, plungin’ her hand in the bag, and drawin’ out +a sheet of paper, “to convince you that Ardelia has always had this +divine gift of poesy—that it is not, all the effect of culture and high +education—let me read to you a poem she wrote when she wuz only a mere +child,” and Miss Tutt read: + +“LINES ON A CAT + +“WRITTEN BY ARDELIA TUTT, + + +“At the age of fourteen years, two months and eight days. + + +“Oh Cat! Sweet Tabby cat of mine; +6 months of age has passed o’er thee, +And I would not resign, resign +The pleasure that I find in you. +Dear old cat!” + + +“Don’t you think,” sez Miss Tutt, “that this poem shows a fund of +passion, a reserve power of passion and constancy, remarkable in one so +young?” + +“Yes,” sez I reasonably, “no doubt she liked the cat. And,” sez I, +wantin’ to say somethin’ pleasant and agreeable to her, “no doubt it +was a likely cat.” + +“Oh the cat itself is of miner importance,” sez Miss Tutt. “We will +fling the cat to the winds. It’s of my daughter I would speak. I simply +handled the cat to show the rare precocious intellect. Oh! how it +gushed out in the last line in the unconquerable burst of repressed +passion—’Dear old cat!’ Shakespeare might have wrote that line, do you +not think so?” + +“No doubt he might,” sez I, calmly, “but he didn’t.” + +I see she looked mad and I hastened to say: “He wuzn’t aquainted with +the cat.” + +She looked kinder mollyfied and continued: + +“Ardelia dashes off things with a speed that would astonish a mere +common writer. Why she dashed off thirty-nine verses once while she wuz +waitin’ for the dish water to bile, and sent ’em right off to the +printer, without glancin’ at ’em agin.’ + +“I dare say so,” sez I, “I should judge so by the sound on ’em.” + +“Out of envy and jealousy, the rankest envy, and the shearest jealousy, +them verses wuz sent back with the infamous request that she should use +’em for curl papers. But she sot right down and wrote forty-eight +verses on a ‘Cruel Request,’ wrote ’em inside of eighteen minutes. She +throws off things, Ardelia does, in half an hour, that it would take +other poets, weeks and weeks to write.” + +At the printers + +“I persume so,” sez I, “I dare persume to say, they _never_ could write +’em.” + +“And now,” sez Miss Tutt, “the question is, will you put Ardelia on the +back of that horse that poets ride to glory on? Will you lift her onto +the back of that horse, and do it _at once?_ I require nothin’ hard of +you,” sez she, a borin’ me through and through with her eyes. “It must +be a joy to you, Josiah Allen’s wife, a rare joy, to be the means of +bringin’ this rare genius before the public. I ask nothin’ hard of you, +I only ask that you demand, _demand_ is the right word, not ask; that +would be grovelin’ trucklin’ folly, but _demand_ that the public that +has long ignored my daugther Ardelia’s claim to a seat amongst the +immortal poets, demand them, _compel_ them to pause, to listen, and +then seat her there, up, up on the highest, most perpendiciler pinnacle +of fame’s pillow. Will you do this?” + +I sat in deep dejection and my rockin’ chair, and knew not what to +say—and Miss Tutt went on: + +“We demand more than fame, deathless, immortal fame for ’em. We want +money, wealth for ’em, and want it at once! We want it for extra +household expenses, luxuries, clothing, jewelry, charity, etc. If we +enrich the world with this rare genius, the world must enrich us with +its richest emmolients. Will you see that we have it! Will you _at +once_ do as I asked you to? Will you seat her immegately where I want +her sot? + +Sez I, considerin’, “I can’t get her up there alone, I haint strong +enough.” Sez I, sort a mekanikly, “I have got the rheumatez.” + +“So you scoff me do you? I came to you to get bread, am I to get worse +than a stun—a scoff?” + +“I haint gin you no scoff,” sez I, a spunkin’ up a little, “I haint +thought on it. I like Ardelia and wish her well, but I can’t do +merikles, I can’t compel the public to like things if they don’t.” + +Sez Miss Tutt, “You are jealous of her, you hate her.” + +“No, I don’t,” sez I, “I haint jealous of her, and I like her looks +first-rate. I love a pretty young girl,” sez I candidly, “jest as I +love a fresh posy with the dew still on it, a dainty rose-bud with the +sweet fragrance layin’ on its half-folded heart. I love ’em,” sez I, a +beginnin’ to eppisode a little unbeknown to me, “I love ’em jest as I +love the soft unbroken silence of the early spring mornin’, the sun all +palely tinted with rose and blue, and the earth alayin’ calm and +unwoke-up, fresh and fair. I love such a mornin’ and such a life, for +itself and for the unwritten prophecis in it. And when I see genius in +such a sweet, young life, why it makes me feel as it duz to see through +all the tender prophetic beauty of the mornin’ skies, a big white dove +a soarin’ up through the blue heavens.” + +Sez Miss Tutt, “You see that in Ardelia, but you wont own it, you know +you do.” + +“No!” sez I, “I would love to tell you that I see it in Ardelia; I +would honest, but I can’t look into them mornin’ skies and say I see a +white dove there, when I don’t see nothin’ more than a plump pullet, a +jumpin’ down from the fence or a pickin’ round calmly in the back +door-yard. Jest as likely the hen is, as the white dove, jest as +honerable, but you mustn’t confound the two together.” + +“A _hen_,” sez Miss Tutt bitterly. “To confound my Ardelia with a +_hen!_ And I don’t think there wuz ever a more ironieler ‘hen’ than +that wuz, or a scornfuller one.” + +“Why,” sez I reasonably. “Hens are necessary and useful in any +position, both walkin’ and settin’, and layin’. You can’t get’em in any +position hardly, but what they are useful and respectable, only jest +flyin’. Hens can’t fly. Their wings haint shaped for it. They look some +like a dove’s wings on the outside, the same feathers, the same way of +stretchin’ ’em out. But there is sunthin lackin’ in ’em, some +heaven-given capacity for soarin’ an for flight that the hens don’t +have. And it makes trouble, sights and sights of trouble when hens try +to fly, try to, and can’t! + +“At the same time it is hard for a dove to settle down in a back yard +and stay there, hard and tegus. She can and duz sometimes, but never +till after her wings have been clipped in some way. Poor little dove! I +am always sorry for ’em to see ’em a walkin’ round there, a wantin’ to +fly—a not forgettin’ how it seemed to have their wings soarin’ up +through the clear sky, and the rush of the pure liquid windwaves a +sweepin’ aginst ’em, as they riz up, up, in freedom, and happiness, and +glory. Poor little creeters. + +“Yes, but doves can, if you clip their wings, settle down and walk, but +hens CAN’T fly, not for any length of time they can’t. No amount of +stimulatin’ poultices applied to the ends of their tail feathers and +wings can ever make ’em fly. They can’t; it haint their nater. They can +make nests, and fill them with pretty downy chicks, they can be happy +and beautiful in life and mean; they can spend their lives in jest as +honerable and worthy a way as if they wuz a flyin’ round, and make a +good honerable appearance from day to day, _till_ they begin to flop +their wings, and fly—then their mean is not beautiful and inspirin’; +no, it is fur from it. It is tuff to see ’em, tuff to see the floppin’, +tuff to see their vain efforts to soar through the air, tuff to see ’em +fall percepitously down onto the ground agin. For they must come there +in the end; they are morally certain to. + +“Now Ardelia is a sweet pretty lookin’ girl, she can set down in a +cushioned arm-chair by a happy fireside, with pretty baby faces a +clusterin’ around her and some man’s face like the sun a reflectin’ +back the light of her happy heart. But she can’t sit up on the pinnacle +of fame’s pillow. I don’t believe she can ever get up there, I don’t. +Honestly speakin’, I don’t.” + +“Envy!” sez Miss Tutt, “glarin’, shameless envy! You don’t want Ardelia +to rise! You don’t want her to mount that horse I spoke of; you don’t +want to own that you see genius in her. But you do, Josiah Allen’s +wife, you know you do—“ + +“No,” sez I, “I don’t see it. I see the sweetness of pretty girlhood, +the beauty and charm of openin’ life, but I don’t see nothin’ else, I +don’t, honest. I don’t believe she has got genius,” sez I, “seein’ you +put the question straight to me and depend a answer; seein’ her future +career depends on her choice now, I must tell you that I believe she +would succeed better in the millionary trade or the mantilly maker’s +than she will in tryin’ to mount the horse you speak on. + +“Why,” sez I, candidly, “some folks _can’t_ get up on that horse, their +legs haint strong enough. And if they do manage to get on, it throws +’em, and they lay under the heels for life. I don’t want to see Ardelia +there, I don’t want to see her maimed and lamed and stunted so early in +the mornin’ of life, by a kick from that animal, for she can’t ride +it,” sez I, “honestly she can’t. + +“There is nothin’ so useless in life, and so sort a wearin’ as to be a +lookin’ for sunthin’ that haint there. And when you pretend it is there +when it haint, you are addin’ iniquity to uselessness; so if you’ll +take my advice, the advice of a wellwisher, you will stop lookin’, for +I tell you plain that it haint there.” + +Sez Miss Tutt, “Josiah Allen’s wife, you have for reasens best known to +your conscience baulked my hopes of a speedy immortality. You have +willfully tried to break down my hopes of an immense, immediate income +to flow out of them poems for luxuries, jewelry, charity, etc. But I +can at least claim this at your hands, I _demand honesty_. Tell me +honestly what you yourself think of them poems.” + +Sez I (gettin’ up sort a quick and goin’ into the buttery, and bringin’ +out a little basket), “Here are some beautiful sweet apples, won’t you +have one?” + +“_Apples_, at such a time as this;” sez Miss Tutt “When the slumberin’ +world trembles before the advancin’ tread of a new poet—When the +heavens are listenin’ intently to ketch the whispers of an Ardelia’s +fate—Sweet apples! in such a time as this!” sez she. But she took two. + +“I _demand the truth_,” sez she. “And you are a base, trucklin’ coward, +if you give it not.” + +Sez I, tryin’ to carry off the subject and the apples into the buttery; +“Poetry ort to have pains took with it.” + +“Jealousy!” sez Miss Tutt. “Jealousy might well whisper this. Envy, +rank envy might breathe the suspicion that Ardelia haint been took +pains with. But I can see through it,” sez she. “I can see through it.” + +“Well,” sez I, wore out, “if they belonged to me, and if she wuz my +girl, I would throw the verses into the fire, and set her to a trade.” + +She stood for a minute and bored me through and through with them eyes. +Why it seemed as if there wuz two holes clear through my very spirit, +and sole; she partly lifted that fearful lookin’ umberell as if to +pierce me through and through; it wuz a fearful seen. + +At last she turned, and flung the apple she wuz a holdin’ onto the +floor at my feet—and sez she, “I scorn ’em, and you too.” And she +kinder stomped her feet and sez, “I fling off the dust I have gethered +here, at your feet.” + +Now my floor wuz clean and looked like yeller glass, almost, it wuz so +shinin’ and spotless, and I resented the idee of her sayin’ that she +collected dust off from it. But I didn’t say nothin’ back. She had the +bag of poetry on her arm, and I didn’t feel like addin’ any more to her +troubles. + +But Ardelia, after her mother had swept out ahead, turned round and +held out her hand, and smiled a sweet but ruther of a despondent and +sorrowful smile, and I kissed her warmly. I like Ardelia. And what I +said, I said for her good, and she knew it. I like Ardelia. + +Well, Miss Tutt and Ardelia went from our house to Eben Pixley’s. They +are distant relatives of hern, and live about 3 quarters of a mile from +us. The Pixleys think everything of Ardelia but they can’t bear her +mother. There has been difficulties in the family. + +But Ardelia stayed there mor’n two weeks right along. She haint very +happy to home I believe. And before she went back home it wuz arranged +that she should teach the winter’s school and board to Miss Pixley’s. +But Miss Pixley wuz took sick with the tyfus before she had been there +two weeks—and, for all the world, if the deestrict didn’t want us to +board her. Josiah hadn’t much to do, so he could carry her back and +forth in stormy weather, and it wuz her wish to come. And it wuz +Josiah’s wish too, for the pay wuz good, and the work light—for _him_. +And so I consented after a parlay. + +But I didn’t regret it. She is a good little creeter and no more like +her mother than a feather bed is like a darnin’ needle. I like Ardelia: +so does Josiah. + +The schoolroom + + + + +Chapter III. +THE CHERITY OF THE JONESVILLIANS. + + +We have been havin’ a pound party here in Jonesville. There wuz a lot +of children left without any father or mother, nobody only an old +grandma to take care of ’em, and she wuz half bent with the rheumatiz, +and had a swelled neck, and lumbago and fits. + +They lived in an old tumble-down house jest outside of Jonesville. The +father wuz, I couldn’t deny, a shiftless sort of a chap, good-natured, +always ready to obleege a neighbor, but he hadn’nt no faculty. And I +don’t know, come to think of it, as anybody is any more to blame if +they are born without a faculty, than if they are born with only one +eye. Faculty is one of the things that you can’t buy. + +He loved to hunt. That is, he loved to hunt some kinds of things. He +never loved to hunt stiddy, hard work, and foller on the trail of it +till he evertook success and captured it. No, he druther hunt after +catamounts and painters, in woods where catamounts haint mounted, and +painters haint painted sence he wuz born. + +He generally killed nothin’ bigger than red squirrels and chipmunks. +The biggest game he ever brought down wuz himself. He shot himself one +cold day in the fall of the year. He wuz gettin’ over a brush fence, +they s’posed the gun hit against somethin’ and went off, for they found +him a layin’ dead at the bottom of the fence. + +I always s’posed that the shock of his death comin’ so awful sudden +unto her, killed his wife. She had been sick for a long spell, she had +consumption and dropsy, and so forth, and so forth, for a long time, +and after he wuz brought in dead, she didn’t live a week. She thought +her eyes of him, for no earthly reason as I could ever see. How +strange, how strange a dispensation of Providence it duz seem, that +some women love some men, and vicy versey and the same. + +But she did jest about worship him, and she died whisperin’ his name, +and reachin’ out her hands as if she see him jest ahead of her. And I +told Josiah I didn’t know but she did. I shouldn’t wonder a mite if she +did see him, for there is only the veil of mystery between us and the +other world at any time, and she had got so nigh to it, that I s’pose +it got so thin that she could see through it. + +Just as you can see through the blue haze that lays before our forest +in Injun summer. Come nigh up to it and you can see the silvery trunks +of the maples and the red sumac leaves, and the bright evergreens, and +the forms of the happy hunters a passin’ along under the glint of the +sunbeams and the soft shadows. + +They died in Injun summer. I made a wreath myself of the bright-colored +leaves to lay on their coffins. Dead leaves, dead to all use and +purpose here, and yet with the bright mysterious glow upon them that +put me in mind of some immortal destiny and blossoming beyond our poor +dim vision. Jane Smedley wuz a good woman, and so wuz Jim, good but +shiftless. + +But I made the same wreath for her and Jim, and the strange mellow +light lay on both of ’em, makin’ me think in spite of myself of some +happy sunrisin’ that haply may dawn on some future huntin’ ground, +where poor Jim Smedley even, may strike the trail of success and +happiness, hid now from the sight of Samantha, hid from Josiah. + +Wall, they died within a week’s time of each other, and left nine +children, the oldest one of ’em not quite fifteen. She, the oldest one, +wuz a good girl, only she had the rickets so that when she walked, she +seemed to walk off all over the house backwards, and sideways, and +every way, but when she sot down, she wuz a good stiddy girl, and +faithful; she took after her mother, and her mother took after her +grandmother, so there wuz three takin’ after each other, one right +after the other. + +Jane wuz a good, faithful, hard-workin’ creeter when she wuz well, +brought up her children good as she could, learnt ’em the catechism, +and took in all kinds of work to earn a little somethin’ towards +gettin’ a home for ’em; she and her mother both did, her mother lived +with ’em, and wuz a smart old woman, too, for one that wuz pretty nigh +ninety. And she wuzn’t worrysome much, only about one thing—she wanted +a home, wanted a home dretfully. Some wimmen are so; she had moved +round so much, from one poor old place to another, that she sort o’ +hankered after bein’ settled down into a stiddy home. + +Wall, there wuz eight children younger than Marvilla, that wuz the +oldest young girl’s name. Eight of ’em, countin’ each pair of twins as +two, as I s’pose they ort. The Town buried the father and mother, which +wuz likely and clever in it, but after that it wouldn’t give only jest +so much a week, which wuz very little, because it said, Town did, that +they could go to the poor-house, they could be supported easier there. + +I don’t know as the Town could really be blamed for sayin’ it, and yet +it seemed kinder mean in it, the Town wuz so big, and the children, +most of ’em, wuz so little. + +But any way, it wuz jest sot on it, and there wuz the end of it, for +you might jest as well dispute the wind as to dispute the Town when it +gets sot. + +Wall, the old grandma said she would die in the streets before she +would go to the poor-house. She had come from a good family in the +first place, + +They say she run away and left a good home and got married, and did +dretful poor in the married state. He waz shiftless and didn’t have +nothin’ and didn’t lay up any. And she didn’t keep any of her old +possessions only jest her pride. She kept that, or enough of it to say +that she would die on the road before she would go to the poor-house. +And once I see her cry she wanted a home so bad. + +And lots of folks blamed her for it, blamed the old woman awfully. They +said pride wuz so wicked. Wimmen who would run like deers if company +came when they wuzn’t dressed up slick, they would say the minute they +got back into the room, all out of breath with hurryin’ into their best +clothes, they’d say a pantin’ “That old woman ought to be _made_ to go +to the poorhouse, to take the pride out of her, pride wuz so awfully, +dretfully wicked, and it wuz a shame that she wuz so ongrateful as to +want a home of her own.” And then they would set down and rest. + +Wall, the family wuz in a sufferin’ state. The Town allowed ’em one +dollar a week. But how wuz ten human beings to live on a dollar a week. +The children worked every chance they got, but they couldn’t earn +enough to keep ’em in shoes, let alone other clothin’ and vittles. And +the old house wuz too cold for ’em to stay in durin’ the cold weather, +it wuz for Grandma Smedley, anyway, if the children could stand it she +couldn’t. And what wuz to be done. A cold winter wuz a cumin’ on, and +it wouldn’t delay a minute because Jim Smedley had got shot, and his +wife had follered him, into, let us hope, a happier huntin’ ground than +he had ever found in earthly forests. + +Wall, I proposed to have a pound party for ’em. I said they might have +it to our house if they wanted it, but if they thought they wanted it +in a more central place (our house wuz quite a little to one side), why +we could have it to the schoolhouse. + +I proposed to Josiah the first one. He wuz a settin’ by the fire +relapsed into silence. It wuz a cold night outside, but the red +curtains wuz down at our sitting-room winders, shettin’ out the cold +drizzlin’ storm of hail and snow that wuz a deseendin’ onto the earth. +The fire burned up warm and bright, and we sot there in our comfortable +home, with the teakettle singin’ on the stove, and the tea-table set +out cosy and cheerful, for Josiah had been away and I had waited supper +for him. + +As I sot there waitin’ for the tea-kettle to bile (and when I say bile, +I mean bile, I don’t, mean simmer) the thought of the Smedleys would +come in. The warm red curtains would keep the storm out, but they +couldn’t keep the thought of the children, and the feeble old +grandmother out of the room. They come right in, through the curtains, +and the firelight, and everything, and sot right down by me and hanted +me. + +And what curious creeters thoughts be, haint they? and oncertain, too. +You may make all your plans to get away from ’em. You may shet up your +doors and winders, and set with a veil on and an umbrell up - but good +land! how easy they jest ontackle the doors and windows, with no sounds +of ontacklin’ and come right in by you. + +First you know there they be right by the side of you, under your +umbrell, under your veil, under your spectacles, a lookin’ right down +into your soul, and a hantin’ you. + +And then agin, when you expect to be hanted by ’em, lay out to, why, +they’ll jest stand off somewhere else, and don’t come nigh you. Don’t +want to. Oncertain creeters, thoughts be, and curious, curious where +they come from, and how. + +Why, I got to thinkin’ about it the other day, and I got lost, some +like children settin’ on a log over a creek a ridin’; there they be, +and there the log is, but they don’t seem to be there, they seem to be +a floatin’ down the water. + +And there I wuz, a settin’ in my rockin’ chair, and I seemed to be a +floatin’ down deep water, very deep. A thinkin’ and a wonderin’. A +thinkin’ how all through the ages what secrets God had told to man when +the time had come, and the reverent soul below was ready to hear the +low words whispered to his soul, and a wonderin’ what strange +revelation God held now, ready to reveal when the soul below had fitted +itself to hear, and comprehend it. + +Ah! such mysteries as He will reveal to us if we will listen. If we +wait for God’s voice. If we did not heed so much the confusing clamor +of the world’s voices about us. Emulation, envy, anger, strife, +jealousy; if we turned our heads away from these discords, and in the +silence which is God’s temple, listened, listened,—who knows the +secrets He would make known to us? + +Secrets of the day, secrets of the night, the sunshine, the lightning, +the storm. The white glow of that wonderful light that is not like the +glow of the sun or of the moon, but yet lighteth the world. That +strange light that has a soul - that reads our thoughts, translates our +wishes, overleaps distance, carrying our whispered words after holding +our thoughts for ages, and then unfoldin’ ’em at will. What other +wondrous mysteries lie concealed, wrapped around by that soft pure +flame, mysteries that shall lie hidden until some inspired eye shall be +waiting, looking upward at the moment when God’s hand shall draw back +the shining veil for an instant, and let him read the glowing secret. + +Secrets of language! shall some simple power, some symbol be revealed, +and the nations speak together? + +Secrets of song! shall some serene, harmonious soul catch the note to +celestial melodies? + +Secrets of sight! shall the eyes too dim now, see the faces of the +silent throngs that surround them, “the great cloud of witnesses”? + +Secrets of the green pathways that lead up through the blue silent +fields of space - shall we float from star to star? + +Secrets of holiness! shall earthly faces wear the pure light of the +immortals? + +But oh! who shall be the happy soul that shall be listening when the +time has fully come and He shall reveal His great secret? The happy +soul listening so intently that it shall catch the low, clear whisper. + +Listening, maybe, through the sweet twilight shadows for the wonderful +secret, while the silver shallop of the moon is becalmed over the high +northern mountains, as if a fleet of heavenly guests had floated down +through the clear ocean waves of the sky to listen too - to hear the +wonderful heavenly secret revealed to man - and a clear star looks out +over the glowing rose of the western heavens, looking down like God’s +eye, searching his soul, searching if it be worthy of the great trust. + +Maybe it will be in the fresh dawning of the day, that the great secret +will grow bright and clear and luminous, as the dawning of the light. + +Maybe it will be in the midst of the storm - a mighty voice borne along +by the breath of the wind and the thunder, clamoring and demanding the +hearer to listen. + +Oh! if we were only good enough, only pure enough, what might not our +rapt vision discern? + +But we know not where or when the time shall be fully come, but who, +who, shall be the happy soul that shall, at the time, be listening? + +Oh! how deep, how strange the waters wuz, and how I floated away on +’em, and how I didn’t. For there I wuz a settin in my own rockin’ chair +and there opposite me sot my own Josiah a whittlin’, for the _World_ +hadn’t come, and he wuz restless and ill at ease, and time hung heavy +on his hands. + +There I sot the same Samantha - and the thought of the Smedleys, the +same old Smedleys, was a hantin’ of me, the same old hant, and I says +to my Josiah, says I: “Josiah, I can’t help thinkin’ about the +Smedleys,” says I. “What do you think about havin’ a pound party for +’em, and will you take holt, and do your part?” + +“Good land, Samantha! Are you crazy? Crazy as a loon? What under the +sun do you want to pound the Smedleys for? I should think they had +trouble enough without poundin’ ’em. Why,” says he, “the old woman +couldn’t stand any poundin’ at all, without killin’ her right out and +out, and the childern haint over tough any of ’em. Why, what has got +into you? I never knew you to propose anything of that wicked kind +before. I sha’n’t have anything to do with it. If you want ’em pounded +you must get your own club and do your own poundin’.” + +Says I, “I don’t mean poundin’ ’em with a club, but let folks buy a +pound of different things to eat and drink and carry it to ’em, and we +can try and raise a little money to get a warmer horse for ’em to stay +in the coldest of the weather.” + +“Oh!” says he, with a relieved look. “That’s a different thing. I am +willin’ to do that. I don’t know about givin’ ’em any money towards +gettin’ ’em a home, but I’ll carry ’em a pound of crackers or a pound +of flour, and help it along all I can.” + +Josiah is a clever creeter (though close), and he never made no more +objections towards havin’ it. + +Wall, the next day I put on my shawl and hood (a new brown hood knit +out of zephyr worsted, very nice, a present from our daughter Maggie, +our son Thomas Jefferson’s wife), and sallied out to see what the +neighbor’s thought about it. + +The first woman I called on wuz Miss Beazley, a new neighbor who had +just moved into the neighborhood. They are rich as they can be, and I +expected at least to get a pound of tea out of her. + +She said it wuz a worthy object, and she would love to help it along, +but they had so many expenses of their own to grapple with, that she +didn’t see her way clear to promise to do anything. She said the girls +had got to have some new velvet suits, and some sealskin sacques this +winter, and they had got to new furnish the parlors, and send their +oldest boy to college, and the girls wanted to have some diamond +lockets, and ought to have ’em but she didn’t know whether they could +manage to get them or not, if they did, they had got to scrimp along +every way they could. And then they wuz goin’ to have company from a +distance, and had got to get another girl to wait on ’em. And though +she wished the poor well, she felt that she could not dare to promise a +cent to ’em. She wished the Smedley family well—dretful well—and hoped +I would get lots of things for ’em. But she didn’t really feel as if it +would be safe for her to promise’em a pound of anything, though mebby +she might, by a great effort, raise a pound of flour for ’em, or meal. + +Says I dryly (dry as meal ever wuz in its dryest times), “I wouldn’t +give too much. Though,” says I, “A pound of flour would go a good ways +if it is used right.” And I thought to myself that she had better keep +it to make a paste to smooth over things. + +Wall, I went from that to Miss Jacob Hess’es, and Miss Jacob Hess +wouldn’t give anything because the old lady wuz disagreeable, old +Grandma Smedley, and I said to Miss Jacob Hess that if the Lord didn’t +send His rain and dew onto anybody only the perfectly agreeable, I +guessed there would be pretty dry times. It wuz my opinion there would +be considerable of a drouth. + +There wuz a woman there a visitin’ Miss Hess—she wuz a stranger to me +and I didn’t ask her for anything, but she spoke up of her own accord +and said she would give, and give liberal, only she wuz hampered. She +didn’t say why, or who, or when, but she only sez this that “she wuz +hampered,” and I don’t know to this day what her hamper wuz, or who +hampered her. + +And then I went to Ebin Garven’ses, and Miss Ebin Garven wouldn’t help +any because she said “Joe Smedley had been right down lazy, and she +couldn’t call him anything else.” + +“But,” says I, “Joe is dead, and why should his children starve because +their pa wasn’t over and above smart when he wuz alive?” But she +wouldn’t give. + +Wall, Miss Whymper said she didn’t approve of the _manner_ of giving. +Her face wuz all drawed down into a curious sort of a long expression +that she called religus and I called somethin’ that begins with +“h-y-p-o”—and I don’t mean hypoey, either. + +No, she couldn’t give, she said, because she always made a practise of +not lettin’ her right hand know what her left hand give. + +And I said, for I wuz kinder took aback, and didn’t think, I said to +her, a glancin’ at her hands which wuz crossed in front of her, that I +didn’t see how she managed it, unless she give when her right hand was +asleep. + +And she said she always gave secret. + +And I said, “So I have always s’posed—very secret.” + +I s’pose my tone was some sarcastic, for she says, “Don’t the Scripter +command us to do so?” + +Says I firmly, “I don’t believe the Scripter means to have us stand +round talkin’ Bible, and let the Smedleys starve,” says I. “I s’pose it +means not to boast of our good deeds.” + +Says she, “I believe in takin’ the Scripter literal, and if I can’t git +my stuff there entirely unbeknown to my right hand I sha’n’t give.” + +“Wall,” says I, gettin’ up and movin’ towards the door, “you must do as +you’re a mind to with fear and tremblin’.” + +I said it pretty impressive, for I thought I would let her see I could +quote Scripter as well as she could, if I sot out. + +But good land! I knew it wuz a excuse. I knew she wouldn’t give nothin’ +not if her right hand had the num palsy, and you could stick a pin into +it—no, she wouldn’t give, not if her right hand was cut off and throwed +away. + +Wall, Miss Bombus, old Dr. Bombus’es widow, wouldn’t give—and for all +the world—I went right there from Miss Whymper’ses. Miss Bombus +wouldn’t give because I didn’t put the names in the Jonesville _Augur_ +or _Gimlet_, for she said, “Let your good deeds so shine.” + +“Why,” says I, “Miss Whymper wouldn’t give because she wanted to give +secreter, and you won’t give because you want to give publicker, and +you both quote Scripter, but it don’t seem to help the Smedleys much.” + +She said that probably Miss Whymper was wrestin’ the Scripter to her +own destruction.” + +“Wall,” says I, “while you and Miss Whymper are a wrestin’ the +Scripter, what will become of the Smedleys? It don’t seem right to let +them ‘freeze to death, and starve to death, while we are a debatin’ on +the ways of Providence.” + +But she didn’t tell, and she wouldn’t give. + +A woman wuz there a visitin’, Miss Bombus’es aunt, I think, and she +spoke up and said that she fully approved of her niece Bombus’es +decision. And she said, “As for herself, she never give to any subject +that she hadn’t thoroughly canvassed.” + +Says I, “There they all are in that little hut, you can canvass them at +any time. Though,” says I, thoughtfully, “Marvilla might give you some +trouble.” And she asked why. + +And I told her she had the rickets so she couldn’t stand still to be +canvassed, but she could probably follow her up and canvass her, if she +tried hard enough. And says I, “There is old Grandma Smedley, over +eighty, and five children under eight, you can canvass them easy.” + +Says she, “The Bible says, ‘Search the Sperits.’” + +And I was so wore out a seein’ how place after place, for three times a +runnin the Bible was lifted up and held as a shield before stingy +creeters, to ward off the criticism of the world and their own souls, +that I says to myself—loud enough so they could hear me, mebbe, “Why is +it that when anybody wants to do a mean, ungenerous act, they will try +to quote a verse of Scripter to uphold ’em, jest as a wolf will pull a +lock of pure white wool over his wolfish foretop, and try to look +innocent and sheepish.” + +I don’t care if they did hear me, I wuz on the step mostly when I +thought it, pretty loud. + +Wall, from Miss Bombus’es I went to Miss Petingill’s. + +Miss Petingill is a awful high-headed creeter. She come to the door +herself and she said, I must excuse her for answerin’ the door herself. +(I never heard the door say anything and don’t believe she did, it was +jest one of her ways.) But she said I must excuse her as her girl wuz +busy at the time. + +She never mistrusted that I knew her hired girl had left, and she wuz +doin’ her work herself. She had ketched off her apron I knew, as she +come through the hall, for I see it a layin’ behind the door, all +covered with flour. And after she had took me into the parlor, and we +had set down, she discovered some spots of flour on her dress, and she +said she “had been pastin’ some flowers into a scrap book to pass away +the time.” But I knew she had been bakin’ for she looked tired, tired +to death almost, and it wuz her bakin’ day. But she would sooner have +had her head took right off than to own up that she had been doin’ +housework—why, they say that once when she wuz doin’ her work herself, +and was ketched lookin’ awful, by a strange minister, that she passed +herself off’ for a hired girl and said, “Miss Petingill wasn’t to home, +and when pressed hard she said she hadn’t “the least idee where Miss +Petingill wuz.” + +‘Hired’ girl + +Jest think on ’t once—and there she wuz herself. The idee! + +Wall, the minute I sot down before I begun my business or anything, +Miss Petingill took me to do about puttin’ in Miss Bibbins President of +our Missionary Society for the Relief of Indignent Heathens. + +The Bibbins’es are good, very good, but poor. + +Says Miss Petingill: “It seems to me as if there might be some other +woman put in, that would have had more influence on the Church.” + +Says I, “Haint Miss Bibbins a good Christian sister, and a great +worker?” + +“Why yes, she wuz good, good in her place. But,” she said, “the +Petingills hadn’t never associated with the Bibbins’es.” + +And I asked her if she s’posed that would make any difference with the +heathen; if the heathen would be apt to think less of Miss Bibbins +because she hadn’t associated with the Petingills? + +And she said, she didn’t s’pose “the heathens would ever know it; it +might make some difference to ’em if they did,” she thought, “for it +couldn’t be denied,” she said, “that Miss Bibbins did not move in the +first circles of Jonesville.” + +It had been my doin’s a puttin’ Miss Bibbins in and I took it right to +home, she meant to have me, and I asked her if she thought the Lord +would condemn Miss Bibbins on the last day, because she hadn’t moved in +the first circles of Jonesville? + +And Miss Petingill tosted her head a little, but had to own up, that +she thought “He wouldn’t.” + +“Wall, then,” sez I, “do you s’pose the Lord has any objections to her +working for Him now?” + +“Why no, I don’t know as the _Lord_ would object.” + +“Wall,” sez I, “we call this work the Lord’s work, and if He is +satisfied with Miss Bibbins, we ort to be.” + +But she kinder nestled round, and I see she wuzn’t satisfied, but I +couldn’t stop to argue, and I tackled her then and there about the +Smedleys. I asked her to give a pound, or pounds, as she felt disposed. + +But she answered me firmly that she could’t give one cent to the +Smedleys, she wuz principled against it. + +And I asked her, “Why?” + +And she said, because the old lady wuz proud and wanted a home, and she +thought that pride wuz so wicked, that it ort to be put down. + +Wall, Miss Huff, Miss Cephas Huff, wouldn’t give anything because one +of the little Smedleys had lied to her. She wouldn’t encourage lyin’. + +And I told her I didn’t believe she would be half so apt to reform him +on an empty stomach, as after he wuz fed up. But she wouldn’t yield. + +Wall, Miss Daggett said she would give, and give abundant, only she +didn’t consider it a worthy object. + +But it wuzn’t nothin’ only a excuse, for the object has never been +found yet that she thought wuz a worthy one. Why, she wouldn’t give a +cent towards painting the Methodist steeple, and if that haint a high +and worthy object, I don’t know what is. Why, our steeple is over +seventy feet from the ground. But she wouldn’t help us a mite—not a +single cent. + +Take such folks as them and the object never suits ’em. They won’t come +right out and tell the truth that they are too stingy and mean to give +away a cent, but they will always put the excuse onto the object—the +object don’t suit ’em. + +Why, I do believe it is the livin’ truth that if the angel Gabriel wuz +the object, if he wuz in need and we wuz gittin’ up a pound party for +him—she would find fault with Gabriel, and wouldn’t give him a ounce of +provisions. + +Yes, I believe it—I believe they would tost their heads and say, they +always had had their thoughts about anybody that tooted so loud—it +might be all right but it didn’t _look_ well, and would be apt to make +talk. Or they would say that he wuz shiftless and extravagant a loafin’ +round in the clouds, when he might go to work—or that he might raise +the money himself by selling the feathers offen his wings for down +pillers—or some of the rest of the Gabriel family might help him—or +something, or other—anyway they would propose some way of gittin’ out +of givin’ a cent to Gabriel. I believe it as much as I believe I live +and breathe; and so does Josiah. + +Wall, Miss Mooney wouldn’t give anything because she thought Jane +Smedley wuzn’t so sick as she thought she wuz; she said “she was +spleeny.” + +And I told Miss Mooney that when a woman was sick enough to die, I +thought she ort to be called sick. + +But Miss Mooney wouldn’t give up, and insisted to the very last that +Miss Smedley wuz hypoey and spleeny—and thought she wuz sicker than she +really wuz. And she held her head and her nose up in a very +disagreeable and haughty way, and said as I left, that she never could +bear to help spleeny people. + +Wall, all that forenoon did I traipse through the street and not one +cent did I get for the Smedleys, only Miss Gowdey said she would bring +a cabbage and Miss Deacon Peedick and Miss Ingledue partly promised a +squash apiece. And I mistrusted that they give ’em more to please me +than anything else. + +Wall, I wuz clean discouraged and beat out, and so I told Josiah. But +he encouraged me some by sayin’: + +“Wall, I could have told you jest how it would be,” and, “You would +have done better, Samantha, to have been to home a cookin’ for your own +famishin’ family.” And several more jest such inspirin’ remarks as men +will give to the females of their families when they are engaged in +charitable enterprises. + +But I got a good, a very good dinner, and it made me feel some better, +and then I haint one to give up to discouragements, anyway. + +So I put on a little better dress for after noon, and my best bonnet +and shawl, and set sail again after dinner. + +And if I ever had a lesson in not givin’ up to discouragements in the +first place I had it then. For whether it wuz on account of the more +dressy look of my bonnet and shawl—or whether it wuz that folks felt +cleverer in the afternoon—or whether it wuz that I had gone to the more +discouragin’ places in the forenoon, and the better ones in the +afternoon—or whether it wuz that I tackled on the subject in a better +way than I had tackled ’em—whether it wuz for any of these reasons, or +all of ’em or somethin’—anyway my luck turned at noon, 12 M., and all +that afternoon I had one triumph after another—place after place did I +collect pound or pounds as the case may be (or collected the promises +of ’em, I mean). I did _splendid_, and wuz prospered perfectly +amazing—and I went home feelin’ as happy and proud as a king or a zar. + +And the next Tuesday evenin’ we had the pound party. They concluded to +have it to our house. And Thomas Jefferson and Maggie, and Tirzah Ann +and Whitefield came home early in the afternoon to help trim the parlor +and setin’ room with evergreens and everlastin’ posies, and fern +leaves. + +They made the room look perfectly beautiful. And they each of ’em, the +two childern and their companions, brought home a motto framed in nice +plush and gilt frames, which they put up on each side of the settin’ +room, and left them there as a present to their pa and me. They think a +sight of us, the childern do—and visey versey, and the same. + +One of ’em wuz worked in gold letters on a red back-ground “Bear Ye One +Another’s Burdens.” And the other wuz “Feed my Lambs.” + +They think a sight on us, the childern do—they knew them mottoes would +highly tickle their pa and me. And they did seem to kinder invigorate +up all the folks that come to the party. + +And they wuz seemingly legions. Why, they come, and they kept a comin’. +And it did seem as if every one of ’em had tried to see who could bring +the most. Why, they brought enough to keep the Smedleys comfortable all +winter long. It wuz a sight to see ’em. + +The Pound Party + +It wuz a curious sight, too, to set and watch what some of the folks +said and done as they brought their pounds in. + +I had to be to the table all the time a’most, for I wuz appointed a +committee, or a board—I s’pose it would be more proper to call myself a +board, more business like. Wall, I wuz the board appointed to lay the +things on—to see that they wuz all took care of, and put where they +couldn’t get eat up, or any other casuality happen to ’em. + +And I declare if some of the queerest lookin’ creeters didn’t come up +to the table and talk to me. There wuz lots of ’em there that I didn’t +know, folks that come from Zoar, Jim Smedley’s old neighborhood. + +There wuz a long table stretched acrost one end of the settin’ room, +and I stood behind it some as if I wuz a dry goods merchant or grocery, +and some like a preacher. + +And the women would come up to me and talk. There wuz one woman who got +real talkative to me before the evenin’ wuz out. She said her home wuz +over two miles beyond Zoar. + +She had a young babe with her, a dark complexioned babe, with a little +round black head, that looked some like a cannon ball. She said she had +shingled the child that day about eight o’clock in the forenoon; she +talked real confidential to me. + +She said the babe had sights of hair, and she told her husband that day +that if he would shingle the babe she would come to the party and if he +wouldn’t shingle it she wouldn’t come. It seemed they had had a +altercation on the subject; she wanted it shingled and he didn’t. But +it seemed that ruther than stay away from the party—he consented, and +shingled it. So they come. + +They brought a eight pound loaf of maple sugar and two dozen eggs. They +did well. Then there wuz another woman who would walk her little girl +into the bedroom every few minutes, and wet her hair, and comb it over, +and curl it on her fingers. The child had a little blue flannel dress +on, with a long plain waist, and a long skirt gethered on full all +round. Her hair lay jest as smooth and slick as glass all the time, but +five times did she walk her off, and go through with that performance. +She brought ten yards of factory cloth, and a good woollen petticoat +for the old grandma. She did first-rate. + +And then there wuz another woman who stayed by the table most all the +evenin’. She would gently but firmly ask everybody who brought +anything, what the price of the article wuz—and then she would tackle +the different women who come up to the table for patterns. I do believe +she got the pattern of every bask waist there wuz there, and every +mantilly. + +And Abram Gee brought twenty-five loaves of bread—of different sizes, +but all on ’em good. And he looked at Ardelia Tutt every minute of the +time. And Ardelia brought a lot of verses,—“Stanzas on a Grandmother.” +I didn’t think they would do Grandma Smedley much good, and then on the +other hand I didn’t s’pose they would hurt her any. + +But we had a splendid good time after the things wuz all brought in—of +course, bein’ a board the fore part of the evenin’ I naturally had a +harder time than I did the latter part, after I had got over it. + +The children, Thomas J., and Tirzah Ann, and Ardelia Tutt, and Abram +Gee, and some of the rest of the young folks sung and played some +beautiful pieces, and they had four tablows, which wuz perfectly +beautiful. + +And then we passed good nice light biscuit and butter, and hot coffee, +and pop corn and apples. And it did seem, and all the neighbors said +so, that it wuz the very best party they had ever attended to. + +And before they went away they made a motion some of the responsable +men did—some made the motions and some seconded ’em—that they would +adjourn till jest one year from that night, when if the Smedleys was +still alive and in need—we would have jest such a party ag’in. + +And at the last on’t Elder Minkley made a prayer—a very thankful and +good prayer, but short. And then they went home. + +Wall, the next mornin’ we started to carry the things to the Smedleys. +It wuz very early, for Josiah had got to go clear to Loontown on +business, and I wuz goin’ to stay with the childern till he got back. + +It wuz a very cold mornin’. We hadn’t heard from the Smedleys for two +or three days, because we wanted to surprise ’em, so we didn’t want to +give ’em a hint beforehand of what we wuz a doin’. So, as I say, it wuz +a number of days sense we had heard from ’em, and the weather wuz cold. + +When we got to the door it seemed to be dretful still there inside. And +there wuz some white frost on the latch jest as if a icy, white hand +had onlatched the door, and had laid on it last. + +We rapped, but nobody answered. And then we opened the door and went +in, and there they all lay asleep. The children waked up. But old +Grandma didn’t. + +Nobody answered + +There wuzn’t any fire in the room, and you could see by the freezing +coldness of the air that there hadn’t been any for a day or two. + +Grandma Smedley had took the poor old coverin’s all off from herself, +and put ’em round the youngest baby, little Jim. And he lay there all +huddled up tight to his Grandma, with his red cheek close to her white +one, for he loved her. + +Josiah cried and wept, and wept and cried onto his bandana—but I +didn’t. + +The tears run down my face some, to see the childern feel so bad when +Grandma couldn’t speak to ’em. + +But I knew that the childern would be took care of now, I knew the +Jonesvillians would be all rousted up and sorry enough for ’em, and +would be willin’ to do anything now, when it wuz some too late. + +And I felt that I couldn’t cry nor weep (and told Josiah so), the tears +jest dripped down my face in a stream, but I wouldn’t weep—for as I +said to myself: + +While the Jonesvillians had been a disputin’ back and forth, and +wrestin’ Scripter, and the meanin’ of Providence in regard to helpin’ +Grandma Smedley and gittin’ her a comfortable place to stay in, and +somethin’ to eat, the Lord himself had took the case in hand and had +gin her a home and the bread that satisfies.” + +Samantha and Josiah at home + + + + +Chapter IV. +ARDELIA AND ABRAM GEE. + + +Wall, I don’t s’pose there had been a teacher in our deestrict for +years and years that gin’ better satisfaction than Ardelia Tutt. Good +soft little creeter, the scholars any one of ’em felt above hurtin’ on +her or plagin’ her any way. She sort a made ’em feel they had to take +care on her, she wuz so sort a helpless actin’, and good natured, and +yet her learnin’ wuz good, fust-rate. + +Yes, Ardelia was thought a sight on in Jonesville by scholars and +parents and some that wuzn’t parents. One young chap in perticiler, +Abram Gee by name, who had just started a baker’s shop in Jonesville, +he fell so deep in love with her from the very start that I pitied him +from about the bottom of my heart. It wuz at our house that he fell. + +The young folks of our meetin’-house had a sort of a evenin’ meetin’ +there to see about raisin’ some money for the help of the +steeple—repairin’ of it. Abram is a member, and so is Ardelia, and I +see the hull thing. I see him totter and I see him fall. And prostrate +he wuz, from that first night. Never was there a feller that fell in +love deeper, or lay more helpless. And Ardelia liked him, that wuz +plain to see; at fust as I watched and see him totter, I thought she +wuz a sort o’ wobblin’ too, and when he fell deep, deep in love, I +looked to see her a follerin’ on. But Ardelia, as soft as she wuz, had +an element of strength. She wuz ambitious. She liked Abram, but she had +read novels a good deal, and she had for years been lookin’ for a +prince to come a ridin’ up to their dooryard in disguise with a crown +on under his hat, and woo her to be his bride. + +The Prince + +And so she braced herself against the sweet influence of love and it +wuz tuff—I could see for myself that it wuz, when she had laid out to +set on a throne by the side of a prince, he a holdin’ his father’s +scepter in his hand—to descend from that elevation and wed a husband +who wuz a moulder of bread, with a rollin’ pin in his hand. It wuz tuff +for Ardelia; I could see right through her mind (it wuzn’t a great +distance to see), and I could see jest how a conflict wuz a goin’ on +between love and ambition. + +But Abram had my best wishes, for he wuz a boy I had always liked. The +Gees had lived neighbor to us for years. He wuz a good creeter and his +bread wuz delicious (milk emptin’s). He wuz a sort of a hard, sound +lookin’ chap, and she, bein’ so oncommon soft, the contrast kinder sot +each other off and made ’em look well together. + +He had a house and lot all paid for, with no incumbrances only a +mortgage of 150 dollars and a lame mother. But he laid out to clear off +the mortgage this year, and I wuz told that mother Gee wuz a goin’ to +live with her daughter Susan, who had jest come into a big property—as +much as 700 dollars worth of land, besides cows, 2 heads of cow, and +one head of a calf. + +I knew Mother Gee and she wuz goin’ to stay with Abram till he got +married and then she wuz goin’ to live with Susan. And I s’pose it is +so. She is a likely old woman with a milk leg. + +Wall, Abram paid Ardelia lots of attention, sech as walkin’ home with +her from protracted meetin’s nights, and lookin’ at her durin’ the +meetin’s more protracted than the meetin’s wuz fur. And 3 times he sent +her a plate of riz biscuit sweetened, sweetened too sweet almost, he +went too fur in this and I see it. + +Yes, he done his part as well as his condition would let him, paralyzed +by his feelin’s—but she acted kinder offish, and I see that sonthin’ +wuz in the way. I mistrusted at first, it might be Abram’s incumbrance, +but durin’ a conversation I had with her, I see I wuz in the wrong +on’t. And I could see plain, though some couldn’t, that she liked Abram +as she did her eyes. Somebody run him down a little one day before me +and she sprouted right up and took his part voyalent. I could see her +feelin’s towards him though she wouldn’t own up to ’em. But one day she +came out plain to me and lamented his condition in life. Somebody had +attact her that day before me about marryin’ of him—and she owned up to +me, that she had laid out to marry somebody to elevate her. Some one +with a grand pure mission in life. + +And I spoke right up and sez, “Why bread is jest as pure and innocent +as anything can be, you won’t find anything wicked about good yeast +bread, nor,” sez I, cordially, “in milk risin’, if it is made proper.” + +But she said she preferred a occupation that wuz risin’, and noble, and +that made a man necessary and helpful to the masses. + +And I sez agin—“Good land! the masses have got to eat. And I guess you +starve the masses a spell and they’ll think that good bread is as +necessary and helpful to ’em as anything can be. And as fer its bein’ a +risin’ occupation, why,” sez I, “it is stiddy risen’—risin’ in the +mornin,’ and risin’ at night, and all night, both hop and milk +emptin’s. Why,” sez I, “I never see a occupation so risin’ as his’n is, +both milk and hop.” But she wouldn’t seem to give in and encourage him +much only by spells. + +And then Abram didn’t take the right way with her. I see he wuz a goin’ +just the wrong way to win a woman’s love. For his love, his great +honest love for her made him abject, he groveled at her feet, loved to +grovel. + +I told him, for he confided in me from the first on’t and bewailed her +coldness to me, I told him to sprout up and act as if he had some will +of his own and some independent life of his own. Sez I, “Any woman that +sees a man a layin’ around under her feet will be tempted to step on +him,” sez I. “I don’t see how she can help it, if she calcerlates to +get round any, and walk.” Sez I, “Sprout up and be somebody. She is a +good little creeter, but no better than you are, Abram; be a man.” + +Abram + +And he would try to be. I could see him try. But one of her soft little +glances, specially if it wuz kind and tender to him, es it wuz a good +deal of the time, why it would just overthrow him ag’in. He would +collapse and become nothin’ ag’in, before her. Why I have hearn him +sing that old him, a lookin’ right at Ardelia stiddy: + +“Oh to be nothin’, nothin’!” + + +And thinks I to myself, “if this keeps on, you are in a fairway to git +your wish.” + +He wuz a good singer, a beartone, and she a secent. They loved to sing +together. They needed some air, but then they got along without it; and +it sounded quite well, though rather low and deep. + +Wall, it run along for weeks and weeks, he with his hopes a risin’ up +sometimes like his yeast and then bein’ pounded down ag’in like his +bread, under the hard knuckles of a woman’s capricious cruelty. For I +must say that she did, for sech a soft littte creeter, have cold and +cruel ways to Abram. (But I s’pose it wuz when she got to thinkin’ +about the Prince, or some other genteel lover.) + +But her real feelin’s would break out once in a while, and lift him up +to the 3d heaven of happiness and then he’d have to totter and fall +down ag’in. Abram Gee had a hard time on’t. I pitied him from nearly +the bottom of my heart. But I still kep’ a thinkin’ it would turn out +well in the end. For it wuz jest about this time that I happened to +find this poetry in a book where she had, I s’posed, left it. And I +read ’em, almost entirely unbeknown to myself. + +It wuz wrote in a dreatful blind way but I recognized it at once. I +looked right through it, and see what she wuz a writin’ about though +many wouldn’t, it wuz wrote in sech a deep style. + +“STANZAS ON BREAD; +“ or +“ A LAY OF A BROKEN HEART. + + +“Oh Bread, dear Bread, that seemest to us so cold, +Oft’times concealed thee within, may be a sting! +Sweet buried hopes may in thy crust be rolled; +A sad, burnt crust of deepest suffering. + +“There are some griefs the female soul don’t tell, +And she may weep, and she may wretched be; +Though she may like the name of Abram well +And she may not like dislike the name of G-, + +“Oh Fel Ambition, how thou lurest us on, +How by thy high, bold torch we’re stridin’ led: +Thou lurest us up, cold mountain top upon, +And seated by us there, thou scoffest at bread. + +“Thou lookest down, Ambition, on the ovens brim; +Thou brookest not a word of him save with contumalee: +And yet, wert thou afar, how sweet to set by him +And cut low slices of sweet joy with G—, + +“Oh! Fel Ambition, wert but thou away, +Could we thy hauntin’ form no more, nor see; +How sweet ’twould be to linger on with A—, +How sweet ’twould be to dwell for aye with G—.” + + +Wall, as I say, she gin good satisfaction in the deestrict and I +declare for it, I got to likin’ her dretful well before the winter wuz +over. Softer she wuz, and had to be, than any fuz that was ever on any +cotton flannel fur or near. And more verses she wrote than wuz good for +her, or for anybody else,—Why she would write “Lines on the Tongs,” or +“Stanzas on the Salt Suller,” if she couldn’t do any better; it beats +all! And then she would read ’em to me to get my idees on ’em. Why I +had to call on every martyr in the hull string of martyrs sometimes to +keep myself from tellin’ her my full mind about ’em unbeknown to me. +For, if I had, it would have skairt the soft little creeter out of what +little wit she had. + +So I kep’ middlin’ still, and see it go on. For she wuz a good little +soul, affectionate and kinder helpful. A good creeter now to find your +speks. Why she found ’em for me times out of number, and I got real +attached to her and visey versey. And when she came a visitin’ me in +the spring (at my request), and I happened to mention that Josiah and +me laid out to go to Saratoga for the summer, what did the soft little +creeter want to do but to go too. Her father was well off and wuz able +to send her, and she had relatives there on her own side, some of the +Pixleys, so her board wouldn’t cost nothin’. So it didn’t look nothin’ +unreasonable, though whether I could get her there and back without her +mashin’ all down on my hands, like a over ripe peach, she wuz that +soft, wuz a question that hanted me, and so I told Josiah. + +But Josiah kinder likes young girls (nothin’ light; a calm +meetin’-house affection), it is kinder nater that he should, and he +sez: “Better let her go, she won’t make much trouble.” + +“No,” sez I, “not to you, but if you had to set for hours and hours and +hear her verses read to you on every subject—on heaven, and earth, and +the seas, and see her a measurin’ of it with a stick to get the lines +the right length; if you had to go through all this, mebby you would +meditate on the subject before you took it for a summer’s job.” + +“ Wall,” sez he, “mebby she won’t write so much when she gets started; +she will be kinder jogged round and stirred up in body and mebby her +feelins’ will kinder rest. I shouldn’t wonder a mite if they did,” sez +he. “And then she can take a good many steps for you, and I love to see +you favored,” sez he. + +He wanted her to go, I see that, and I see that it wuz natur that he +should, and so I consented in my mind—after a parlay. + +She found his specks a sight and his hat. Nothin’ seemed to please her +better than to be gropin’ round after things to please somebody; her +disposition wuz such. So it wuz settled that she should accompany and +go with us. And the mornin’ we started she met us at the Jonesville +Depot in good sperits and a barege delaine dress, cream color, and a +hat of the same. + +At the depot + +I hadn’t seen her for some weeks, and she seemed softly tickled to see +Josiah and me, and asked a good many questions about Jonesville, kinder +turnin’ the conversation gradually round onto bread, as I could see. So +I branched right out, knowin’ what she wanted of me, and told her +plain, that “Abram Gee wuz a lookin’ kinder mauger. But doin’ his duty +_stiddy_,” sez I, lookin’ keenly at her, “a doin’ his duty by +everybody, and beloved by everybody, him and his bread too.” + +She turned her head away and kinder sithed, and I guess it wuz as much +as a quarter of a hour after that, that I see her take out a pencil and +a piece of paper out of her portmonny, and a little stick, and she went +to makin’ some verses, a measurin’ ’em careful as she wrote ’em, and +when she handed ’em to me they wuz named + +“A LAY ON A CAR; +“ or +“THE LESSON OF A LOCOMOTIVE.” + + +“Oh cars that bearest us on; oh cars that run +If backward thou didst go, we should not near +The place we started for at break of sun; +The place we love, with love devout, sincere. + +“Oh! snortin’ Engine, didst thou not so snort +Thou wouldst not start, and lo! we see— +Our sorrows’ hidden griefs, they do not come for nort +They start the Locomotive, Life, with screechin’ agony + +“Oh passengers that wail, and dread the screech, +Wail not; but lift eyes o’er the chimney top +As they bend over the Locomotive; beach +Thy hopes on fairer shores, a sweeter crop.” + + +After I had read it and handed it back to her, she sez, “Don’t you +think I improve on the melody and rhythm of my poetry? I take this +little stick with me now wherever I go, and measure my lines by it. +They are jest of a length, I am very particular; you know you advised +me to be.” + +“Yes,” sez I mechaniklly, “but I didn’t mean jest that.” Sez I, “the +poetry I wuz a thinkin’ on, is measured by the soul, the enraptured +throb of heart and brain; it don’t need takin’ a stick to it. +Howsumever,” sez I, for I see she looked sort a disapinted, +“howsumever, if you have measured ’em, they are probable about the same +length: it is a good sound stick, I haint no doubt;” and I kinder +sithed. + +And she sez, “What do you think of the first verse? Haint that verse as +true as fate, or sadness, or anything else you know of?” + +“Oh yes,” sez I candidly, “yes; if the cars run backwards we shouldn’t +go on; that is true as anything can be. But if I wuz in your place, +Ardelia,” sez I, “I wouldn’t write any more to-day. It is a kind of +muggy damp day. It is a awfully bad day for poetry to-day. And,” sez I, +to get her mind offen it, “Have you seen anything of my companion’s +specks?” + +And that took her mind offen poetry and she went a huntin’ for ’em, on +the seat and under the seat. She hunted truly high and low and at last +she found ’em on my pardner’s foretop, the last place any of us thought +of lookin’. And she never said another word about poetry, or any other +trouble, nor I nuther. + +Cupid + + + + +Chapter V. +WE ARRIVE AT SARATOGA. + + +We arrived at Saratoga jest as sunset with a middlin’ gorgeous dress on +wuz a walkin’ down the west and a biddin’ us and the earth good-bye. +There wuz every color you could think on almost, in her gown and some +stars a shinin’ through the floatin’ drapery and a half moon restin’ up +on her cloudy foretop like a beautiful orniment. + +(I s’pose mebby it is proper to describe sunset in this way on goin’ to +such a dressy place, though it haint my style to do so, I don’t love to +describe sunset as a female and don’t, much of the time, but I love to +see things correspond.) + +Wall, we descended from the cars and went to the boardin’ place +provided for us beforehand by the look out of friends. It wuz a good +place, there haint no doubt of that, good folks; good fare and clean. + +Ardelia parted away from us at the depo. She wuz a goin’ to board to a +smaller boardin’ house kep’ by a second cousin of her father’s +brother’s wife’s aunt. It wuz her father’s request that she should get +her board there on account of its bein’ in the family. He loved “to see +relations hang together;” so he said, and “get their boards of each +other.” But I thought then, and I think now, that it wuz because they +asked less for the board. Deacon Tutt is close. But howsumever Ardelia +went there, and my companion and me arrove at the abode where we wuz to +abide, with no eppisode only the triflin’ one of the driver bein’ +dretful mistook as to the price he asked to take us there. + +I thought, and Josiah thought, that 50 cents wuz the outlay of +expendatur he required to carry us where we would be; it wuz but a +short distance. But no! He said that 5 dollars wuz what he said, that +is, if we heard anything about a 5. But he thought we wuz deef, and +dident hear him. He thought he spoke plain, and said 4 dollars for the +trip. + +And on that price he sot down immovible. They arged, and Josiah Allen +even went so far as to use language that grated on my nerve, it wuz so +voyalent and vergin’ on the profane. But there the man sot, right onto +that price, and he had to me the appeerance of one who wuz goin’ to sot +there on it all night. And so rather than to spend the night out doors, +in conversation with him, he a settin’ on that price, and Josiah a +shakin’ his fist at it, and a jawin’ at it, I told Josiah that he had +better pay it. And finally he did, with groanin’s that could hardly be +uttered. + +They argued + +Wall, after supper (a good supper and enough on’t), Josiah proposed +that we should take a short walk, we two alone, for Ardelia wuz afar +from us, most to the other end of the village, either asleep or a +writin’ poetry, I didn’t know which, but I knew it wuz one or the other +of ’em. And I wuz tired enough myself to lay my head down and repose in +the arms of sleep, and told my companion so, but he said: + +“Oh shaw! Let old Morpheus wait for us till we get back, there’ll be +time enough to rest then.” + +Josiah felt so neat, that he wuz fairly beginnin’ to talk high learnt, +and classical. But I didn’t say nothin’ to break it up, and tied on my +bonnet with calmness (and a double bow knot) and we sallied out. + +Soon, or mebby a little after, for we didn’t walk fast on account of my +deep tucker, we stood in front of what seemed to be one hull side of a +long street, all full of orniments and open work, and pillows, and +flowers, and carvin’s, and scallops, and down between every scollop +hung a big basket full of posys, of every beautiful color under the +heavens. And over all, and way back as fur as we could see, wuz +innumerable lights of every color, gorgeousness a shinin’ down on +gorgeousness, glory above, a shinin’ down on glory below. And sweet +strains of music wuz a floatin, out from somewhere, a shinin’ +somewhere, renderin’ the seen fur more beautiful to all 4 of our +wraptured ears. + +And Josiah sez, as we stood there nearly rooted to the place by our +motions, and a picket fence, sez he dreamily, + +“I almost feel as if we had made a mistake, and that this is the land +of Beuler.” And he murmured to himself some words of the old him: + +“Oh Beuler land! Sweet Beuler land!” + + +And I whispered back to him and sez—“Hush they don’t have brass bands +in Beulah land.” + +And he sez, “How do you know what they have in Beuler?” + +“Wall,” sez I, “’taint likely they do.” + +But I don’t know as I felt like blamin’ him, for it did seem to me to +be the most beautiful place that I ever sot my eyes on. And it did seem +fairly as if them long glitterin’ chains and links of colored lights, a +stretchin’ fur back into the distance sort a begoned for us to enter +into a land of perfect beauty and Pure Delight. + +And then them glitterin’ chains of light would jine onto other golden, +and crimson, and orange, and pink, and blue, and amber links of glory +and hang there all drippin’ with radiance, and way back as fur as we +could see. And away down under the shinin’ lanes the white statues +stood, beautiful snow-white females, a lookin’ as if they enjoyed it +all. And the lake mirrowed back all of the beauty. + +Right out onto the lake stood a fairy-like structure all glowin’ with +big drops of light and every glitterin’ drop reflected down in the +water and the fountain a sprayin’ up on each side. Why it sprayed up +floods of diamonds, and rubys, and sapphires, and topazzes, and +turkeys, and pearls, and opals, and sparklin’ ’em right back into the +water agin. + +And right while we stood there, neerly rooted to the spot and gazin’ +through extacy and 2 pickets, the band gin a loud burst of melody and +then stopped, and after a minute of silence, we hearn a voice +angel-sweet a risin’ up, up, like a lark, a tender-hearted, +golden-throated lark. + +High, high above all the throngs of human folks who wuz cheerin’ her +down below - up above the sea of glitterin’ light - up above the +bendin’ trees that clasped their hands together in silent applaudin’ +above her, up, up, into the clear heavens, rose that glorious voice a +singin’ some song about love, love that wuz deathless, eternal. + +Why it seemed as if the very clouds wuz full of shadowy faces a bendin’ +down to hear it, and the new moon, shaped just like a boat, had glided +down, down the sky to listen. + +If the man of the moon was there he wuz a layin’ in the bottom of the +boat, he wuzn’t in sight. But if he heard that music I’ll bet he would +say he wuzn’t in the practice of hearin’ any better. And Josiah stood +stun still till she had got done, and then he sort a sithed out: + +“Oh, it seems as if it must be Beuler land! Do you s’pose, Samantha, +Beuler land is any more beautiful?” + +And I sez, “I haint a thinkin’ about Beulah.” I sez it pretty middlin’ +tart, partly to hide my own feelin’s, which wuz perfectly rousted up, +and partly from principle, and sez I, “Don’t for mercy’s sake call it +Beuler.” + +Josiah always will call it so. I’ve got a 4th cousin, Beulah Smith (my +own age and unmarried up to date), and he always did and would call her +Beuler. Truly in some things a pardner’s influence and encouragement +fails to accomplish the ends aimed at. + +Wall, it wuz after some words that I drew Josiah away from that seen of +enchantment - or he me, I don’t exactly know which way it wuz - and we +wended onwards in our walk. + +The hull broad streets wuz full of folks, full as they could be, all on +’em perfect strangers to us and who knew what motives or weapons they +wuz a carryin’ with ’em; but we knew we wuz safe, Josiah and me did, +for way up over all our heads, stood a big straight soldier, a +volunteer volunteerin, to see to the hull crew on ’em below, a seein’ +that they behaved themselves. His age wuz seventy-seven as near as I +could make out but he didn’t look more’n half that. He had kep’ his age +remarkable. + +The soldier + +Wall, it wuz, if I remember right, jest about now that we see a +glitterin’ high up over our heads some writen in flame. I never see +such brilliant writin, before nor don’t know as I ever shall ag’in. + +And Josiah stopped stun still, and stood a lookin’ perfectly +dumfoundered at it. And finally he sez, “I’d give a dollar bill if I +could write like that.” + +I see he wuz deeply rousted up for 2 cents is as high as he usually +goes in betted. I see he felt deep and I didn’t blame him. Why,” sez +he, “jest imagine, Samantha, a hull letter wrote like that! how I’d +love to send one back to Uncle Nate Gowdey. + +“How Uncle Nate’s eyes would open, and he wouldn’t want no spectacles +nor nothin’ to read it with, would he? I wonder if I could do it,” sez +he, a beginnin’ to be all rousted up. + +But I sez, “Be calm,” for so deep is my mind that I grasped the +difficuties of the undertaken’ at once. “How could yon send it, Josiah +Allen? Where would you get a envelop? How could you get it into the +mail bag?” Sez I, “When anybody would send a letter wrote like that, +they would want to write it on sheets of lightnin’, and fold it up in +the envelopin’ clouds of the skies, and it should be received by a +kneelin’ and reverent soul. Who is Uncle Nate that he should get it? He +has not a reverent Soul and he has also rheumatiz in his legs.” + +And then I thought, so quick and active is my mind when it gets to +startin’ off on a tower, I thought of what I had hearn a few days +before, of how the secret had been learnt by somebody who lived right +there in the village, of floatin’ letters up at sea from one ship to +another, sigualin’ out in letters of flame - + +“Help! I’m a sinkin’!” or “Danger ahead! Look out!” + +And I thought what it must be to stand on a dusky night on a lone deck +and see up on the broad, dark; lonesome sky above, a sudden message, a +flash of vivid lightnin’, takin’ to itself the form of language. And I +wondered to myself if in the future we should use the great pages of +the night-sky to write messages from one city to another, or from sea +to land, of danger and warnin’; and then I thought to myself, if souls +clog-bound to earth are able to accomplish so much, who knows but the +freed soul goin’ outward and onward from height to height of wisdom may +yet be able to signal down from the Safe Land messages of help and +warnin’ to the souls it loved below. + +The souls a sailin’ and a driftin’ through the dark night of despair - +a dashin’ along through fog and mist and darkness aginst rocks. What it +would be to one kneelin’ in the lonesome night watches by a grave, if +the dark sky could grow luminous and he could read, - “Do not despair! +I am alive! I love you!” + +Or, in the hour of the blackest temptation and dread, when the earth is +hollow and the sky a black vault, and the only way of happiness on +God’s earth seems down the dangerous, beautiful way, God-forbidden, +what would it be to have the empty vault lit up with “Danger ahead! We +will help you! be patient a little longer!” + +Oh how fur my thoughts wuz a travellin’, and at what a good jog, but +not one trace did my companion see on my forward of these thoughts that +wuz a passin’ through my foretop: and at that very minute, we came up +nigh enough to see that right back of the glitterin’ language overhead, +went a long line of big, glowin’ stars of glory way up over our heads, +and leadin’ down a gentle declivity and Josiah sez, “Let’s foller on, +and see what it will lead us to, Samantha.” + +“Wall,” sez I, “light is pretty generally, safe to foller, Josiah +Allen.” And so we meandered along, keepin’ our 2 heads as nigh as we +could under that long glitterin’ chain of golden drops that wuz high +overhead. And on, and on, we follered it dilligently; till for the +land’s sake! if it didn’t lead us to another one of them openwork +buildin’s, fixed off beautiful, and we could see inside 2 big wells +like, with acres of floor seemin’ly on each side of ’em, and crowds of +folks a walkin’ about and settin’ at little tables and most all of ’em +a drinkin’. + +The water they drinked we could see wuz a bubblin’ up and a runnin’ +over all the time, in big round crystal globes. And up, up on a slender +pole way up over one of the wells hung another one of them crystal +bowls, a bubblin’ over with the water and sparklin’. + +And ag’in Josiah asked me if I thought Beuler land could compare with +it? + +And I told him ag’in kinder sharp, That I wuzn’t a thinkin’ about +Beuler, I didn’t know any sech a place or name. I wish he would call +things right. + +Wall, he wuz so dead tired by this time, that we sot sail homewards; +that is, my feet wuz tired, and my bones, but my mind seemed more +rousted up than common. + +Josiah + + + + +Chapter VI. +SARATOGA BY DAYLIGHT. + + +Wall, the next mornin’ Josiah and me sallied out middlin’ early to +explore still further the beauties and grandness of Saratoga. I had on +a black straw bonnet, a green vail, and a umbrell. I also have my black +alpacky, that good moral dress. + +My dress bein’ such a high mission one choked me. It wuz so high in the +neck it held my chin up in a most uncomfortable position, but sort a +grand and lofty lookin’. My sleeves wuz so long that more’n half the +time my hand wuz covered up by ’em and I wuz too honerable to wear ’em +for mits; no, in the name of principle I wore ’em for sleeves, good +long sleeves, a pattern to other grandmas that I might meet. + +I felt that when they see me and see what I wuz a doin’ and endurin’ +fur the cause of female dressin’ they would pause in their wild career, +and cover up their necks and pull their sleeves down. + +Wall, it haint to be expected that I could walk along carryin’ such +hefty emotions as I wuz a carryin’, and havin’ my neck held high and +stiddy both by principle and alpacky, and see to every step I wuz a +takin’. And, first I knew, right while I was enjoyin’ the loftiest of +these emotions, I ketched my foot in sunthin’, and most fell down. +Instinctively (such is the power of love) I put out my hand and +clutched at the arm of my pardner. But he too wuz nearly fallin’ at the +same time. It wuz a narrow chance that we wuz a runnin’ from having our +prostrate forms a layin’ there outstretched on the highway. + +Instinctively I sez, “Good land!” and Josiah sez—wall, it is fur from +me to tell what he said, but it ended up with these words, “Dumb them +dumb sidewalks anyway;” and sez he, “I should think it would pay to +have a little less gilt paint and spangles and orniments overhead and a +few more solid bricks unless they want more funerals here, dumb ’em!” + +Sez I,”Be calm! who be you a talkin’ about? who do you want to bring +down your fearful curses on, Josiah Allen?” + +“Why, onto the dumb bricks,” sez he. + +He wuz agitated and I said no more. But four times in that first walk, +did I descend almost precipitously into declivities amongst the bricks, +risin’ simultaneously on similar elevations. + +It wuz a fearful ordeel and I felt it so, but upheld by principle and +Josiah, I moved onwards, through what seemed to be 5 great throngs and +masses of people, 3 on the ground and 2 hinted up above us on tall +pillows. + +Them immense places overhead long as the streets, wuz kinder scalloped +out and trimmed off handsum with railin’s, etc. And on it—oh! what a +vast congregation of heads of all sorts and sizes and colors. And oh! +what a immense display of parasols; why no parasol store in the land +could begin with what I see there. + +I can truly say that I thought I knew somethin’ about parasols;, havin’ +owned 3 different ones in the course of my life, and havin’ one covered +over. I thought I knew somethin’ of their nater and habits, which is a +good deal, so I had always s’posed, like a umbrell’s. But good land! I +gin up that I knew them not, nor never had. + +Why anybody could learn more on ’em through one jerney down that +street, than from a hull lifetime in Jonesville. Truly travel is very +upliftin’ and openin’ and spreadin’ out to the mind, both in parasols +and human nater. + +Wall, them 2 masses over our heads wuz 2, then the one in which we wuz +a strugglin’ and the one opposite to it made 4. For anybody with any +pretence to learnin’ knows that twice 2 is 4. And then in the middle of +the broad street was a bigger mass of chariots and horsemen, and carts +and carriages, and great buggies and little ones, and big loads of +barrels, and big loads of ladies, and then a load of wood, and then a +load of hay, and then a pair of young folks pretty as a picture. And +then came some high big coaches as big as our spare bedroom, and as +high as the roof on our horse barn, with six horses hitched to e’m, all +runnin’ over on top with men; and wimmen, and children, and parasols, +and giggles, and ha ha’s. And a man wuz up behind a soundin’ out on a +trumpet, a dretful sort of a high, sweet note, not dwindlin’ down to +the end as some music duz, but kinder crinklin’ round and endin’ up in +the air every time. + +Josiah wuz dretful took with it and he told me in confidence that he +laid out when he got home to buy a trumpet and blow out jest them +strains every time he went into Jonesville or out of it. He said it +would sound so sort a warlike and impressive. + +I expostulated aginst the idee. But sez he, “You’ll enjoy it when you +get used to it.” + +“Never!” sez I. + +“Yes you will,” sez he, “and while I live I lay out that you shall have +advantages, and shall enjoy things new and uneek.” + +“Yes,” sez I feelin’ly, “I expect to, Josiah Allen, as long as I live +with you.” And I sithed. But I had little time to enjoy even sithin’, +for oh! the crowd that wuz a pressin’ onto us and surroundin’ us on +every side, some on ’em curius and strange lookin’, some on ’em +beautiful and grand. Pretty young girls lookin’ sweet enough to kiss, +and right behind ’em a Chinese man with a long dress, and wooden shoes, +and his hair in a long braid behind, and his eyes sot in sideways. And +then would come on a hull lot of wimmen in dresses ev’ry color of the +rainbow, and some men. Then a few childern, lookin’ sweet as roses, +with their mothers a pushin’ the little carts ahead on ’em. And if +you’ll believe it, I don’t s’pose you will, but it is true, that lots +of black ma’s had childern jest as white as snow, and pretty as +rosebuds, took after their fathers I s’pose. But I don’t believe in a +mixin’ of the races. And when I see ’em a kissin’ the pretty babys, I +begun to muse a very little on the feelin’s of the indignent South, at +havin’ a colered girl set in the same car with ’em, or on a bench in +the same school room. + +Black Ma’s + +I mewsed on how they held the white forms clost to their black breasts +at birth, and in the hour of death—the black lips pressed to the white +cheeks and lips, in both cases. And all the way between life and death +they mingle clost as they can, some in some cases like the hill of +knowledge. Then the contact is too clost, when they sot out to climb up +by ’em. Truly there are deep conundrums and strange ones, all along +through life; though the white man may be, and is, cleer up out of his +way, on the sunshiny brow of the hill, and the black man at the foot, +way down amongst the shadows and darkness of the low grounds. They +don’t come very nigh each other. But the arms that have felt the clasp +and the lips that have felt the kisses of that very same black climber +all through life, moves ’em and shouts ’em to “go down,” to “go back,” + +“The contact is getting too clost, danger is ahead.” Curious, haint it? +Jest as if any danger is so dangerous as ignorance and brutality. +Curious, haint it? But I am a eppisodin’, and to resoom. + +Wall, right after the babies we’d meet a Catholic priest with a calm +and fur away look on his face, a lookin’ at the crowd as if he wuz in +it, but not of it. And then a burgler, mebby, anyway a mean lookin’ +creeter, ragged and humble. And then 2 or 3 men foreign lookin’, +jabberin’ in a tongue I know nothin’ of, nor Josiah either. And then +some more childern, and wimmen, and dogs, and parasols, and men, and +babies, and Injuns, and Frenchmen, and old young wimmen, and young old +ones, and handsome ones, and hombly ones, and parasols, and some sweet +young girls ag’in, and some black men, and some white men, and some +more wimmen, and parasols, and silk, and velvet, and lace, and puckers, +and raffles, and gethers, and gores, and flowers, and feathers, and +fringes, and frizzles, and then some men, some Southerners from the +South, some Westerners from the West, some Easterners from the East, +and some Cubebs from Cuba, and some Chinamen from China. + +Oh! what a seen! What a seen! back and forth, passin’ and repassin’, to +and fro, parasols, and dogs, and wimmen, and men, and babies, and +parasols, to and fro, to and fro. Why, if I stood there long so crazed +would I have become at the seen, that I should have felt that Josiah +wuz a To and I wuz a Fro, or I wuz a parasol and he wuz a dog. + +And to prevent that fearful catastrophe, I sez, “If we ever get beyond +this side of the village that seems all run together, if we ever do get +beyond it, which seems doubtful, le’s go and sit down, in some quiet +spot, and try to collect our scattered minds.” Sez I, “I feel curius, +Josiah Allen!” and sez I, “How do you feel?” + +His answer I will not translate; it was neither Biblical nor even +moral. And I sez agin, “Hain’t it strange that they have the village +all run together with no streets turnin’ off of it.” Sez I, “It makes +me feel queer, Josiah Allen, and I am a goin’ to enquire into it.” So +we wended our way some further on amongst the dense crowd I have spoken +of, only more crowded and more denser, and anon, if not oftener, +Josiah’s head would be scooped in by passin’ parasols, and then in low, +deep tones, Josiah would use words that I wouldn’t repeat for a dollar +bill, till at last I asked a by bystander a standin’ by, and sez I, “Is +this village all built together—don’t you have no streets a turnin’ off +of it?” + +“Yes,” sez he, “you’ll find a street jest as soon as you get by this +hotel.” + +I stopped right in my tracts; I wuz dumbfoundered. Sez I, “Do you mean +to say that this hull side of the street that we have been a traversin’ +anon, or long before anon,—do you say that this is all one buildin’?” + +“Yes mom,” sez he. + +Sez I, in faint axents, “When shall we get to the end on it?” + +Sez he, “You have come jest about half way.” + +Josiah gin a deep groan and turned him round in his tracts and sez, +“Le’s go back this minute.” + +I too thought of the quiet haven from whence we had set out, with a +deep longin’, but sech is the force and strength of my mind that I +grasped holt of the situation and held it there tight. If we wuz half +way across it wouldn’t be no further to go on than it would to go back. +Such wuz my intellect that I see it to once, but Josiah’s mind couldn’t +grasp it, and with words murmured in my ears which I will never repeat +to a livin’ soul he wended on by my side through the same old +crowd—parasols, and wimmen, and dogs, and babies, and men, and +parasols, and Injuns, and Spanards, and Creoles, and pretty girls, and +old wimmen, and puckers, and gethers, and bracelets, and diamonds, and +lace, and parasols. Several times, if not more, wuz Josiah Allen +scooped in by a parasol held by a female, and I felt he wuz liable to +be torn from me. His weight is but small. 3 times his hat fell off in +the operation and wuz reskued with difficulty, and he spoke words I +blush to recall as havin’ passed my pardner’s lips. + +Wall, in the fullness of time, or a little after, for truly I wuz not +in a condition to sense things much, we arrove at a street and we +gladly turned our 2 frames into it, and wended our way on it, goin’ at +a pretty good jog. The crowd a growin’ less and less and we kep a +goin’, and kep a goin’, till Josiah sez in weary axents: + +“Where be you a goin’, Samantha? Haint you never goin’ to stop? I am +fairly tuckered out.” + +And I sez in faint axents, “I would fain reach a land where parasols +and puckers are not and dogs and diamonds are no more.” + +I wuz middlin’ incoherent from my agitation. But I meant well. I wuz +truly in hopes I would reach some quiet place where Josiah and me could +set down alone. Where I could look in quiet and repose upon that dear +bald head, and recooperate my strength. + +We went by beautiful places, grand houses of different colors but every +one on ’em good lookin’ ones, a settin’ back amongst their green trees, +with shady grass-covered yards, and fountains and flower beds in front +of ’em, and more grand handsome houses, and more big beautiful yards, +green velvet grass and beautiful flowers and fountains, and birds and +beauty on every side on us. + +And though I felt and knew that in them big carriages that was a +passin’ 2 and fro all the time, though I felt that parasols, and +puckers, and laces, and dogs, and diamonds, wuz a bein’ borne past me +all the time, yet sech is the force of my mind that I could withdraw my +specks from ’em, and look at the beautiful works of nater (assisted by +man) that wuz about me on every hand. + +Finally my long search wuz rewarded, we came to a big open gateway that +seemed to lead into a large, quiet delightful forest. And in that +lovely, lonesome place, Josiah and me sot down to recooperate our 2 +energies. + +Josiah looked good to me. Men are nice creeters, but you don’t want to +see too meny of ’em to once, likeways with wimmen. Josiah looked to me +at that moment some like a calico dress that you have picked out of a +dense quantity of patterns of calico at a store, it looks better to you +when you get it away from the rest. Josiah Allen looked good to me. + +But anon, after I had bathed my distracted eyes (as you may say) in the +liniment of my pardner, I began to take in the rare beauty of the seen +laid out before me and we arose and wended our way onwards peaceful and +serene, as 2 childern led on by their mother. + +Dear Mother Nature! how dost thou rest and soothe thy distracted +childern when too hardly used by the grindin’, oppressive hands of +fashion,and the weerisome elements of a too civilized life. Maybe thou +art a heathen mother, oneducated and ignorant in all but the wisdom of +love, but thy bosom is soft and restful, and thy arms lovin’ and +tender. And, heathen if thou art, we love thee first and at last. We +are glad to slip out of all the vain and gilded supports that have held +us weerily up, and lay down our tired heads on thy kindly and +unquestionin’ bosom and rest. + +As we rose from the soft turf, on which we had been a restin’, and +meandered on through that beautiful park, (so tenderly had nature used +him,) not one trace of the wild commotion that had almost rent Josiah +Allen’s breast, could be seen save one expirin’ threeoh of agony. As we +started out ag’in, he looked down onto my faithful umberell, that had +stiddied me on so many towers of principle, and sez he, in low +concentrated axents of skern and bitterness, “If that wuz a dumb +parasol, Samantha, I would crush it to the earth and grind it to +atoms.” + +Truly he could not forget how his bald head had been gethered in like a +ripe sheaf, by 7 females, during that very walk, hombly ones too, so it +had happened. But I sez nothin’ in reply to this expirin’ note of the +crysis he had passed through, knowin’ this was not the time for silver +speech but for golden silence, and so we meandered onwards. + +And it wuz anon that we see in the distance a fair white female a +standin’ kinder still in the edge of the woods, and Josiah spoke in a +seemin’ly careless way, and sez he, “She don’t seem to have many +clothes on, Samantha.” + +Sez I, “Hush, Josiah! she has probably overslept herself, and come out +in a hurry, mebby to look for some herbs or sunthin’. I persoom one of +her childern are sick, and she sprung right up out of bed, and come out +to get some weather-wort, or catnip, or sunthin’.” + +And as I spoke I drawed Josiah down a side path away from her. But he +stopped stun still and sez he, “Mebby I ought to go and help her +Samantha.” + +Sez I, “Josiah Allen, sense I lived with you, I don’t think I have been +shamder of you;” sez I, “it would mortify her to death if she should +_mistrust_ you had seen her in that condition.” + +“Wall,” sez he, still a hangin’ back, “if the child is very sick, and I +can be any help to her, it is my duty to go.” + +His eye had been on her nearly every moment of the time, in spite of my +almost voyalent protests, and sez he, kinder excited like, “She is +standin’ stun still, as if she is skarit; mebby there is a snake in +front of her or sunthin’, or mebby she is took paralysed, I’d better go +and see.” + +Sez I, in low, deep axents, “You stay where you be, Josiah Allen, and I +will go forward, bein’ 2 females together, it is what it is right to do +and if we need your help I will holler.” + +Woman in the woods + +And finally he consented after a parlay. + +Wall, as I got up to her I see she wuzn’t a live, meat woman, but a +statute and so I hastened back to my Josiah and told him there wuzn’t +no need of his help and he wuz in the right on’t—she wuz stun still.” + +He said he guessed we’d better go that way. And I sez, “No, Josiah, I +want to go round by the other road.” + +Wall, we got back to our abode perfectly tuckered out, but perfectly +happy. And we concluded that after dinner we would set out and see the +different springs and partake of ’em. Had it not been for our almost +frenzied haste to get away from parasols and dogs and destraction into +a place of rest we should have beheld them sooner. And our afternoon’s +adventures I will relate in another epistol. + +crowed street + + + + +Chapter VII. +SEEING THE DIFFERENT SPRINGS. + + +Taking a walk + +Immegeatly after dinner (a good one) Josiah Allen, Ardelia Tutt and me +sot out to view and look at the different springs and to partake of the +same. We hadn’t drinked a drop of it as yet. Ardelia had come over to +go with us. She had on a kind of a yellowish drab dress and a hat made +of the same, with some drab and blue bows of ribbon and some pink +holly-hawks in it, and she had some mits on (her hands prespired +dretfully, and she sweat easy). As I have said, she is a good lookin’ +girl but soft. And most any dress she puts on kinder falls into the +same looks. It may be quite a hard lookin’ dress before she puts it on, +but before she has wore it half a hour it will kinder crease down into +the softest lookin, thing you ever see. And so with her bonnets, and +mantillys, and everything. + +The down onto a goslin’s breast never looked softer than every rag she +had on this very afternoon, and no tender goslin’ itself wuz ever +softer than she wuz on the inside on’t. But that didn’t hinder my +likin’ her. + +Wall, anon, or a little before, we came to that long, long buildin’, +beautiful and dretful ornimental, but I could see plain by daylight +what I had mistrusted before, that it wuzn’t built for warmth. It must +be dretful cold in the winter, and I don’t see how the wimmen folks of +the home could stand it, unless they hang up bed quilts and blankets +round the side, and then, I should think they would freeze. They +couldn’t keep their house plants over winter any way - and I see they +had sights of ’em - unless they kep’ ’em down suller. + +But howsumever, that is none of my lookout. If they want to be so +fashionable, as to try to live out doors and in the house too, that is +none of my business. And of course it looked dretful ornimental and +pretty. But I will say this, it haint bein’ mejum. I should rather live +either out doors, or in the house, one of the 2. But I am a eppisodin’. +And to resoom. + +Josiah Allen paid the money demanded of him and we went in and advanced +onwards to where a boy wuz a pullin’ up the water and handin’ of it +round. + +It looked dretful bubblin’ and sparklin’. Why sunthin’ seemed to be a +sparklin’ up all the time in the water and I thought to myself mebby it +wuz water thoughts, mebby it wanted to tell sunthin’, mebby it has all +through these years been a tryin’ to bubble up and sparkle out in +wisdom but haint found any one yet who could understand its liquid +language. Who knows now? + +I took my glass and looked close - sparkle, sparkle, up came the tiny +thought sparks! But I wuzn’t wise enough to read the glitterin’ +language. No I wuzn’t deep enough. It would take a deep mind, mebby +thousands of feet deep, to understand the great glowin’ secret that it +has been a tryin’ to reveal and couldn’t. Mebby it has been a tryin’ to +tell of big diamond mines that it has passed through - great cliffs and +crags of gold sot deep with the crystalized dew of diamonds. + +But no, I didn’t believe that wuz it. That wouldn’t help the world, +only to make it happier, and these seemed to me to be dretful +inspirin’, upliftin’ thoughts. No, mebby it is a tryin’ to tell a cold +world about a way to heat it. Mebby it has been a runnin’ over and is +sparklin’ with bright thoughts about how deep underneath the earth lay +a big fireplace, that all the cold beggars of mortality could set round +and warm _their_ frozen fingers by,—a tryin’ to tell how the heat of +that fire that escapes now up the chimbleys of volcanoes, and sometimes +in sudden drafts blows out sideways into earthquakes, etc., could be +utilized by conveyin’ it up on top of the ground, and have it carried +into the houses like Croton water. Who knows now? Mebby that is it! + +Oh! I felt that it would be a happy hour for Samantha when she could +bile her potatoes by the heat of that large noble fire-place. And more +than that, far more wuz the thought that heat might become, in the +future, as cheap as cold. That the little cold hands that freeze every +winter in the big cities, could be stretched out before the big +generous warmth of that noble fire-place. And who built that fire in +the first place? Who laid the first sticks on the handirons, and put +the match to it? Who wuz it that did it, and how did he look, and when +wuz he born, and why, and where? + +These, and many other thoughts of similar size and shape, filled my +brane almost full enough to lift up the bunnet, that reposed gracefully +on my foretop, as I stood and held the sparklin’ glass in my hands. + +Sparkle! sparkle! sparkle! what wuz it, it wuz a tryin’ to say to me +and couldn’t? Good land! I couldn’t tell, and Josiah couldn’t, I knew +instinctively he couldn’t, though I didn’t ask him. + +No, I turned and looked at that beloved man, for truly I had for the +time bein’ been by the side of myself, and I see that he wuz a drinkin’ +lavishly of the noble water. I see that he wuz a drinkin’ more than wuz +for his good, his linement showed it, and sez I, for he wuz a liftin’ +another tumbler full onto his lips, sez I, “Pause, Josiah Allen, and +don’t imbibe too much.” + +Taking the water + +“Why,” he whispered, “you can drink all you are a mind to for 5 cents. +I am bound for once, Samantha Allen, to get the worth of my money.” + +And he drinked the tumbler full down at one swoller almost, and turned +to the weary boy for another. He looked bad, and eager, and sez I, “How +many have you drinked?” + +Sez he, in a eager, animated whisper, “9.” And he whispered in the same +axents, “5 times 9 is 45 ; if it had been to a fair, or Fourth of July, +or anything, it would have cost me 45 cents, and if it had been to a +church social - lemme see - 9 times 10 is 90. It would have cost me a +dollar bill! And here I am a havin’ it all for 5 cents. Why,” sez he, +“I never see the beat on’t in my life.” + +And ag’in he drinked a tumbler full down, and motioned to the +frightened boy for another. + +But I took him by the vest and whispered to him, sez I, “Josiah Allen, +do you want to die, because you can die cheap? Why,” sez I, “it will +kill you to drink so much.” + +“But think of the cheapness on’t Samantha! The chance I have of getting +the worth of my money.” + +But I whispered back to him in anxus axents and told him, that I +guessed if funeral expenses wuz added to that 5 cents it wouldn’t come +so cheap, and sez I, “you wont live through many more glasses, and +you’ll see you wont. Why,” sez I, “you are a drowndin’ out your +insides.” + +He wuz fairly a gettin’ white round the mouth, and I finally got him to +withdraw, though he looked back longingly at the tumblers and murmured +even after I had got him to the door, that it wuz a dumb pity when +anybody got a chance to get the worth of their money, which wuzn’t +often, to think they couldn’t take advantage on it. + +And I sez back to him in low deep axents, “There is such a thing as +bein’ too graspin’, Josiah Allen.” Sez I, “The children of Israel used +to want to lay up more manny than they wanted or needed, and it spilte +on their hands.” And sez I, “you see if it haint jest so with you; you +have been in too great haste to enrich yourself, and you’ll be sorry +for it, you see if you haint.” + +And he was. Though he uttered language I wouldn’t wish to repeat, about +the children of Israel and about me for bringin’ of ’em up. But the man +wuz dethly sick. Why he had drinked 11 tumblers full, and I trembled to +think what would have follered on, and ensued, if I hadn’t interfered. +As it wuz, he wuz confined to our abode for the rest of the day. + +But I wouldn’t have Josiah Allen blamed more than is due for this +little incedent, for it only illustrates a pervailin’ trait in men’s +nater, and sometimes wimmen’s - a too great desire to amass sudden +riches, and when opportunity offers, burden themselves with useless and +wearysome and oft-times painful gear. + +They don’t need it but seeing they have a chance to get it cheap, “dog +cheap “ as the poet observes, why they weight themselves down with it, +and then groan under the burden of unnecessary and wearin’ wealth. This +is a deep subject, deep as the well from which my companion drinked, +and nearly drinked himself into a untimely grave. + +Men heap up more riches than they can enjoy and then groan and rithe +under the taxes, the charity given, the envy, the noteriety, the glare, +and the glitter, the crowd of fortune-hunters and greedy hangers-on, +and the care and anxiety. They orniment the high front of their houses +with the paint, the gildin’, the fashion, and the show of enormous +wealth, and while the crowd of fashion-seekers and fortune-hunters pour +in and out of the lofty doorway they set out on the back stoop a +groanin’ and a sithin’ at the cares and sleepless anxietes of their big +wealth, and then they git up and go down street and try their best to +heap up more treasure to groan over. + +And wimmen now, when wuz there ever a woman who could resist a good +bargain? Her upper beauro draws may be a runnin’ over with laces and +ribbons, but let her see a great bargain sold for nothin’ almost, and +where is the female woman that can resist addin’ to that already too +filled up beauro draw. + +A baby, be he a male, or be he a female child, when he has got a appel +in both hands, will try to lay holt of another, if you hold it out to +him. It is human nater. Josiah must not be considered as one alone in +layin’ up more riches than he needed. He suffered, and I also, for sech +is the divine law of love, that if one member of the family suffers, +the other members suffer also, specially when the sufferin’ member is +impatient and voyalent is his distress, and talks loud and angry at +them who truly are not to blame. + +Now I didn’t make the springs nor I wuzn’t to blame for their bein’ +discovered in the first place. But Josiah laid it to me. And though I +tried to make him know that it wuz a Injun that discovered ’em first, +he wouldn’t gin in and seemed to think they wouldn’t have been there if +it hadn’t been for me. + +I hated to hear him go on so. And in the cause of Duty, I brung up Sir +William Johnson and others. But he lay there on the lounge, and kep’ +his face turned resolute towards the wall, in a dretful oncomfertable +position (sech wuz his temper of mind), and said, he never had heard of +them, nor the springs nuther, and shouldn’t if it hadn’t been for me. + +Why, sez I, “A Injun brought Sir William Johnson here on his back.” + +“Wall,” sez he, cross as a bear, “that is the way you’ll have to take +me back, if you go on in this way much longer.” + +“In what way, Josiah?” sez I. + +“Why a findin’ springs and draggin’ a man off to ’em, and makin’ him +drink.” + +“Why, Josiah Allen,” sez I, “I told you not to drink - don’t you +remember?” + +“No! I don’t remember nuthin’, nor don’t want to. I want to go to +sleep!” sez he, snappish as anything, so I went out and let him think +if he wanted to, that I made the Springs, and the Minerals, and the +Gysers, and the Spoutin’ Rock, and everything. Good land! I knew I +didn’t; but I had to rest under the unkind insinnuation. Such is some +of the trials of pardners. + +But Josiah waked up real clever. And I brung him up some delicate warm +toast and some fragrant tea, and his smile on me wuz dretful +good-natured, almost warm. And I forgot all his former petulence and +basked in the rays of love and happiness that beamed on me out of the +blue sky of my companion’s eyes. The clear blue sky that held two +stars, to which my heart turned. + +Such is some of the joys of pardners with which the world don’t meddle +with, nor can’t destroy. + +But to resoom. Ardelia sot down awhile in our room before she went back +to her boardin’ house. I see she wuz a writin’ for she had a long lead +pencil in her right hand and occasionally she would lean her forrerd +down upon it, in deep thought, and before she went, she slipped the +verses into my hand: + +“STANZAS ON A MINERAL SPRING. + + +“Oh! waters that doth bubble up and spout +Oh, didst thou bubble down insted of up, +Thou couldest not with all thy minerals get out +We could not then arise and drink thee in a cup. + +“Oh! human waves that float and seeth and tear +Oh wiltest thou not too a learn to bubble up +Instead of down, a lesson deep to bear, +Oh Soul, can here be learned, one smooth, or rough. + +“A lesson deep of powerful min-er-als +That act with power the constitution on,[1] +And still that softly bubbles up, and tells +To souls unborn, how sweetly they have ron. + +“Oh water that doth mount on slender tip, +And spoutest up some 30 feet, through pole; +Oh Hope, learn thou a lesson from the water’s lip, +Spout out, spout out, in peace from hollow soul.” + + + [1] As in the case of Mr. Allen, poor dear man. + + +Sez I, a lookin’ over my specks at Ardelia after I had finished readin’ +the verses: “What does ‘ron’ mean? I never heerd of that word before, +nor knew there wuz sech a one.” + +Sez she, “I meant ran, but I s’pose it is a poetical license to say +‘ron,’ don’t you think so?” + +“Oh, yes,” sez I, “I s’pose so, I don’t know much about licenses, nor +don’t want to, they are suthin’ I never believed in. But,” sez I, for I +see she looked red and overcasted by my remarks, “I don’t s’pose it +will make any difference in a 100 years whether you say ran or ron.” + +But sez I, “Ardelia, it is a hot day, and I wouldn’t write any more if +I wuz in your place. If you should heat your bra-, the upper part of +your head, you might not get over it for some time.” + +“But,” sez she, “you have told me sometimes to stop on account of cold +weather.” + +“Wall,” sez I, “most any kind of weather is hard on some kinds of +poetry.” Sez I, “Poetry is sunthin’ that takes particular kinds of +folks and weather to be successful.” Sez I, “It is sunthin’ that can’t +be tampered with with impunity by Christians or world’s people. It is a +kind of a resky thing to do, and I wouldn’t write any more to-day, +Ardelia.” + +And she heard to me and after a settin’ a while with us, she went back +to Mr. Pixley’s. + +Samantha tastes the water + + + + +Chapter VIII. +JOSIAH AND SAMANTHA TAKE A LONG WALK. + + +Wall, we hadn’t been to Saratoga long before Aunt Polly Pixley came +over to see us, for Aunt Polly had been as good as her word and had +come to Saratoga, to her 2d cousins, the Mr. Pixley’ses, where Ardelia +wuz a stopping. Ardelia herself is a distant relation to Aunt Polly, +quite distant, about 40 or 50 miles distant when they are both to home. + +Wall, the change in Aunt Polly is wonderful, perfectly wonderful. She +don’t look like the same woman. + +She took her knittin’ work and come in the forenoon, for a all day’s +visit, jest as she wuz used to in the country, good old soul - and I +took her right to my room and done well by her, and we talked +considerable about other wimmen, not runnin’ talk, but good plain talk. + +She thinks a sight of the Saratoga water, and well she may, if that is +what has brung her up, for she wuz always sick in Jonesville, kinder +bedrid. And when she sot out for Saratoga she had to have a piller to +put on the seat behind her to sort a prop her up (hen’s feather). + +And now, she told me she got up early every mornin’ and walked down to +the spring for a drink of the water - walked afoot. And she sez, “It is +astonishin’ how much good that water is a doin’ me; for,” sez she, +“when I am to home I don’t stir out of the house from one day’s end to +the other; and here,” sez she, “I set out doors all day a’most, a +listenin’ to the music in the park mornin’ and evenin’ I hear every +strain on’t.” + +Aunt Polly is the greatest one for music I ever see, or hearn on. And I +sez to her, “Don’t you believe that one great thing that is helpin’ +you, is bein’ where you are kep’ gay and cheerful, - by music and good +company; and bein’ out so much in the sunshine and pure air.” (Better +air than Saratoga has got never wuz made; that is my opinion and +Josiah’s too.) And sez I, “I lay a good deal to that air.” + +“No,” she said, “it wuz the water.” + +Sez I, “The water is good, I don’t make no doubts on’t.” But I +continued calmly - for though I never dispute, I do most always +maintain my opinion - and I sez again calmly, “There has been a great +change in you for the better, sense you come here, Miss Pixley. But +some on’t I lay to your bein’ where things are so much more cheerful +and happyfyin’. You say you haint heerd a strain of music except a base +viol for over 14 years before you come here. And though base viols if +played right may be melodious, yet Sam Pixley’s base viol wuz a old +one, and sort a cracked and grumbly in tone, and he wuzn’t much of a +player anyway, and to me, base viols always sounded kinder base +anyway.” + +And sez I, “Don’t you believe a gettin’ out of your little low dark +rooms, shaded by Pollard willers and grave stuns, and gettin’ out onto +a place where you can heer sweet music from mornin’ till night, a +liftin’ you up and makin’ you happier - don’t you believe that has +sunthin’ to do with your feelin’ so much better - that and the pure +sweet air of the mountains comin’ down and bein’ softened and enriched +by the breath of the valley, and the minerals, makin’ a balmy +atmosphere most full of balm - I lay a good deal to that.” + +“Oh no,” sez she, “it is the water.” + +“Yes,” sez I, in a very polite way, - I will be polite, “the water is +good, first rate.” + +But at that very minute, word come to her that she had company, and she +sot sail homewards immegetly, and to once. + +And now I don’t care anything for the last word, some wimmen do, but I +don’t. But I sez to her, as I watched her a goin’ down the stairway, +steppin’ out like a girl almost, sez I, “How well you do seem, Aunt +Polly; and I lay a good deal on’t to that air.” + +Now who would have thought she would speak out from the bottom of the +stairway and say, “No, it is the water?” + +Wall, the water is good, there haint no doubt, and anyway, through the +water and the air, and bein’ took out of her home cares, and old +surroundin’s onto a brght happy place, the change in Polly Pixley is +sunthin’ to be wondered at. + +Yes, the water is good. And it is dretful smart, knowin’ water too. +Why, wouldn’t anybody think that when it all comes from the same place, +or pretty nigh the same place anyway, that they would get kinder +flustrated and mixed up once in a while? + +But they don’t. These hundreds and thousands of years, and I don’t know +how much longer, they have kep’ themselves separate from each other, +livin’ nigh neighbors there down under the ground, but never +neighborin’ with each other, or intermarryin’ in each other’s families. +No, they have kep’ themselves apart, livin’ exclosive down below and +bubblin’ up exclosive. + +They know how to make each other keep their proper distance, and I +s’pose through all the centuries to come they will bubble up, right +side by side, entirely different from each other. + +Curius, hain’t it? Dretful smart, knowin’ waters they be, fairly +sparklin’ and flashin’ with light and brightness, and intelligence. +They are for the healin’ and refreshin’ of ,the nations, and the +nations are all here this summer, a bein’ healed by ’em. But still I +lay a good deal to that air. + +Amongst the things that Aunt Polly told me about wimmen that day, wuz +this, that Ardelia Tutt had got a new Bo, Bial Flamburg, by name. + +She said Mr. Flamburg had asked Ardelia’s 3d cousin to introduce him to +her, and from that time his attentions to her had been unremittent, +voyalent, and close. She said that to all human appearance he wuz in +love with her from his hat band down to his boots and she didn’t know +what the result would be, though she felt that the situation wuz +dangerus, and more’n probable Abram Gee had more trouble ahead on him. +(Aunt Polly jest worships Abram Gee, jest as everybody duz that gets to +know him well.) And I too, felt that the situation wuz dubersome. For +Ardelia I knew wuz one of the soft little wimmen that has _got_ to have +men a trailin’ round after ’em; and her bein’ so uncommon tender +hearted, and Mr. Flamburg so deep in love, I feared the result. + +Wall, I wuz jest a thinkin’ of this that day after dinner when Josiah +proposed a walk, so we sot out. He proposed we should walk through the +park, so we did. The air wuz heavenly sweet and that park is one of the +most restful and beautiful places this side of Heaven, or so it seemed +to us that pleasant afternoon. The music was very soft and sweet that +day, sweet with a undertone of sadness, some like a great sorrowful +soul in a beautiful body. + +The balmy south wind whispered through the branches of the bendin’ +trees on the hill where we sot. The light was a shinin’ and a siftin’ +down through the green leaves, in a soft golden haze, and the music +seemed to go right up into them shadowy, shinin’ pathways of golden +misty light, a climbin’ up on them shadowy steps of mist and gold, and +amber, up, up into the soft depths of the blue overhead - up to the +abode of melody and love. + +Down the hill in the beautiful little valley, all amongst the fountains +and windin’ walks and white statutes, and green, green, grass, little +children wuz a playin’. Sweet little toddlers, jest able to walk about, +and bolder spirits, though small, a trudgin’ about with little canes, +and jumpin’ round, and havin’ a good time. + +Little boys and little girls (beautiful creeters, the hull on ’em), for +if their faces, every one on ’em, wuzn’t jest perfect! They all had the +beauty of childhood and happiness. And crowds of older folks wuz there. +And some happy young couples, youths and maidens, wuz a settin’ round, +and a wanderin’ off by themselves, and amongst them we see the form of +Ardelia, and a young man by her side. + +She wuz a leanin’ on the stun railin’ that fences in the trout pond. +She wuz evidently a lookin’ down pensively at the shinin’ dartin’ +figures of the trout, a movin’ round down in the cool waters. + +I wuzn’t nigh enough to ’em to see really how her companion looked, but +even at that distance I recognized a certain air and atmosphere a +surroundin’ Ardelia that I knew meant poetry. + +And Josiah recognized it too, and he sez to me, “We may as well go +round the hill and out to the road that way,” sez he, (a pointin’ to +the way furthest from Ardelia) “and we may as well be a goin’.” + +That man abhors poetry. + +Wall, we wandered down into the high way and havin’ most the hull +afternoon before us, we kinder sauntered round amongst the stores that +wuz pretty nigh to where we wuz. There is some likely good lookin’ +stores kep’ by the natives, as they call the stiddy dwellers in +Saratoga. Good lookin’ respectable stores full of comfort and +consolation, for the outer or inner man or woman. (I speak it in a +mortal sense). + +But with the hundred thousand summer dwellers, who flock here with the +summer birds, and go out before the swallers go south, there comes lots +of summer stores, and summer shops, and picture studios, etc., etc. +Like big summer bird’s-nests, all full and a runnin’ over with summer +wealth, to be blowed down by the autumn winds. These shops are full of +everything elegant and beautiful and useful. The most gorgeous vases +and plaks and chiner ware of every description and color, and books, +and jewelry, and rugs, and fans, and parasols, and embroideries, and +laces, and etc., etc., etc. + +And one shop seemed to be jest full of drops of light, light and +sunshine, crystalized in golden, clear, tinted amber. There wuz a young +female statute a standin’ up in the winder of that store with her hands +outstretched and jest a drippin’ with the great glowin’ amber drops. +Some wuz a hangin’ over her wings for she was a young flyin’ female. +And I thought to myself it must be she would fly better with all that +golden light a drippin’ about her. + +Josiah liked her looks first rate. And he liked the looks of some of +the pictures extremely. There wuz lots of places all full of pictures. +A big collection of water colors, though as Josiah said and well said, +How they could get so many colors out of water wuz a mystery to him. + +But my choice out of all the pictures I see, wuz a little one called +“The Sands of Dee.” It wuz “Mary a callin’ the cattle home.” The cruel +treacherus water wuz a risin’ about her round bare ankles as she stood +there amongst the rushes with her little milk-bucket on her arm. + +Her pretty innocent face wuz a lookin’ off into the shadows, and the +last ray of sunset was a fallin’ on her. Maybe it wuz the pity on’t +that struck so hard as I looked at it, to know that the “cruel, +crawli’n foam” wuz so soon to creep over the sweet young face and round +limbs. And there seemed to be a shadow of the comin’ fate, a sweepin’ +in on the gray mist behind her. + +I stood for some time, and I don’t know but longer, a lookin’ at it, my +Josiah a standin’ placidly behind me, a lookin’ over my shoulder and +enjoyin’ of it too, till the price wuz mentioned. But at that fearful +moment, my pardner seized me by the arm, and walked me so voyalently +out of that store and down the walk that I did not find and recover +myself till we stood at the entrance to Philey street. + +At the art gallery + +And I wuz so out of breath, by his powerful speed, that she didn’t look +nateral to me, I hardly recognized Philey. But Josiah hurried me down +Philey and wanted to get my mind offen Mary Dee I knew, for he says as +we come under a sign hangin’ down over the road, “Horse Exchange,” sez +he, “What do you say, Samantha, do you spose I could change off the old +mair, for a camel or sunthin’? How would you like a camel to ride?” + +I looked at him in speechless witherin’ silence, and he went on +hurridly, “It would make a great show in Jonesville, wouldn’t it, to +see us comin’ to meetin’ on a camel, or to see us ridin’ in a cutter +drawed by one. I guess I’ll see about it, some other time.” + +And he went on hurridly, and almost incoherently as we see another +sign, over the road - oh! how vollubly he did talk - “Quick, Livery.” + +“I hate to see folks so dumb conceeted! Now I don’t spose that man has +got any hosses much faster than the old mair.” + +“‘Wing’s!’ Shaw! I don’t believe no such thing - a livery on wings. I +don’t believe a word on’t. And you wouldn’t ketch me on one on ’em, if +they had!” + +“‘Yet Sing!’” sez he, a lookin’ accost the street into a laundry house. +“What do I care if you do sing? ’Taint of much account if you do any +way. _I_ sing sometimes, I _yet_ sing,” says he. + +“_Sing_,” sez I in neerly witherin’ tone. “I’d love to hear you sing, I +haint yet and I’ve lived with you agoin’ on 30 years.” + +“Wall, if you haint heerd me, it is because you are deef,” sez he. + +But that is jest the way he kep’ on, a hurryin’ me along, and a talkin’ +fast to try to get the price of that picture out of my head. Anon, and +sometimes oftener, we would come to the word in big letters on signs, +or on the fence, or the sides of barns, “Pray.” And sometimes it would +read, “Pray for my wife!” And Josiah every time he came to the words +would stop and reflect on ’em. + +“‘Pray!’ What business is it of yourn, whether I pray or not? ‘Pray for +my wife!’ That haint none of your business.” + +Sez he, a shakin’ his fist at the fence, “’Taint likely I should have a +wife without prayin’ for her. She needs it bad enough,” sez he once, as +he stood lookin’ at it. + +I gin him a strange look, and he sez, “You wouldn’t like it, would you, +if I didn’t pray for you?” + +“No,” sez I, “and truly as you say, the woman who is your wife needs +prayer, she needs help, morn half the time she duz.” + +He looked kinder dissatisfied at the way I turned it, but he sez, +“‘Plumbin’ done here!’” + +“I’d love to know where they are goin’ to plum. I don’t see no sign of +plum trees, nor no stick to knock ’em off with.” And agin he sez, “You +would make a great ‘fuss, Samantha, if I should say what is painted up +right there on that cross piece. You would say I wuz a swearin’.” + +Sez I coldly, (or as cold as I could with my blood heated by the +voyalence and rapidity of the walk he had been a leadin’ me,) “There is +a Van in front of it. Van Dam haint swearin’.” + +“You would say it wuz if _I_ used it,” sez he reproachfully. “If I +should fall down on the ice, or stub my toe, and trip up on the meetin’ +house steps, and I should happen to mention the name of that street +about the same time, you would say I wuz a swearin’.” + +I did not reply to him; I wouldn’t. And ag’in he hurried me on’ards by +some good lookin’ bildin’s, and trees, and tavrens, and cottages, and +etc., etc., and we come to Caroline street, and Jane, and Matilda, and +lots of wimmen’s names. + +And Josiah sez, “I’ll bet the man that named them streets wuz love +sick!” + +But he wuzn’t no such thing. It was a father that owned the land, and +laid out the streets, and named ’em for his daughters. Good old +creeter! I wuzn’t goin’ to have him run at this late day, and run down +his own streets too. + +But ag’in Josiah hurried me on’ards. And bimeby we found ourselves a +standin’ in front of a kind of a lonesome lookin’ house, big and +square, with tall pillows in front. It wuz a standin’ back as if it wuz +a kinder a drawin’ back from company, in a square yard all dark and +shady with tall trees. And it all looked kinder dusky, and solemn like. +And a bystander a standin’ by told us that it wuz “ha’nted.” + +The haunted house + +Josiah pawed at it, and shawed at the idee of a gost. + +But I sez, “There! that is the only thing Saratoga lacked to make her +perfectly interestin’, and that is a gost!” + +But agin Josiah pawed at the idee, and sez, “There never wuz such a +thing as a gost! and never will be.” And sez he, “what an extraordenary +idiot anybody must be to believe in any sech thing.” And ag’in he +looked very skernful and high-headed, and once ag’in he shawed. + +And I kep’ pretty middlin’ calm and serene and asked the bystander, +when the gost ha’nted, and where? + +And he said, it opened doors and blowed out lights mostly, and trampled +up stairs. + +“Openin’, and blowin’, and tramplin’,” sez I dreamily. + +“Yes,” sez the man, “that’s what it duz.” + +And agin Josiah shawed loud. And agin I kep’ calm, and sez I, “I’d give +a cent to see it.” And sez I, “Do you suppose it would blow out and +trample if we should go in?” + +But Josiah grasped holt of my arm and sez, “’Taint safe! my dear +Samantha! don’t le’s go near the house.” + +“Why? “ sez I coldly, “you say there haint no sech thing as a gost, +what are you afraid on?” + +His teeth wuz fairly chatterin’. “Oh! there might be spiders there, or +mice, it haint best to go.” + +I turned silently round and started on, for my companion’s looks was +pitiful in the extreme. But I merely observed this, as we wended +onwards, “I have always noticed this, Josiah Allen, that them that shaw +the most at sech things, are the ones whose teeth chatter when they +come a nigh ’em, showin’ plain that the shawers are really the ones +that believe in ’em.” + +“My teeth chattered,” sez he, “because my gooms ache.” + +“Well,” sez I, “the leest said the soonest mended.” And we went on fast +ag’in by big houses and little, and boardin’ houses, and boardin’ +houses, and boardin’ houses, and tavrens, and tavrens, and he kept me a +walkin’ till my feet wuz most blistered. + +I see what his aim wuz; I had recognized it all the hull time. + +But as we went up the stairway into our room, perfectly tuckered out, +both on us, I sez to him, in weary axents, “That picture wuz cheap +enough, for the money, wuzn’t it?” + +He groaned aloud. And sech is my love for that man, that the minute I +heard that groan I immegetly added, “Though I hadn’t no idee of buyin’ +it, Josiah.” + +Immegetly he smiled warmly, and wuz very affectionate in his demeener +to me for as much as two hours and a half. Sech is the might of human +love. + +His hurryin’ me over them swelterin’ and blisterin’ streets, and +showin’ me all the beauty and glory of the world, and his conversation +had no effect, skercely on my mind. But what them hours of frenzied +effert could not accomplish, that one still, small groan did. I love +that man. I almost worship him, and he me, vise versey, and the same. + +We found that Ardelia Tutt had been to see us in our absence. She had +been into our room I see, for she had dropped one of her mits there. +And the chambermaid said she had been in and waited for us quite a +spell - the young man a waitin’ below on the piazza, so I s’posed. + +I expect Ardelia wanted to show him off to us and I myself wuz quite +anxus to see him, feelin’ worried and oncomfertable about Abram Gee and +wantin’ to see if this young chap wuz anywhere nigh as good as Abram. + +Well about a hour after we came back, Josiah missed his glasses he +reads with. And we looked all over the house for ’em, and under the +bed, and on the ceilin’, and through our trunks and bandboxes, and all +our pockets, and in the Bible, and Josiah’s boots, and everywhere. And +finely, after givin’ ’em up as lost, the idee come to us that they +might possibly have ketched on the fringe of Ardelia’s shawl, and so +rode home with her on it. + +So we sent one of the office-boys home with her mit and asked her if +she had seen Josiah’s glasses. And word come back by the boy that she +hadn’t seen ’em, and she sent word to me to look on my pardner’s head +for ’em, and sure enough there we found ’em, right on his foretop, to +both of our surprises. + +She sent also by the boy a poem she had wrote that afternoon, and sent +word how sorry she wuz I wuzn’t to home to see Mr. Flamburg. But I see +him only a day or two after that, and I didn’t like his looks a mite. + +But he said, and stuck to it, that his father owned a large bank, that +he wuz a banker, and a doin’ a heavy business. + +Wall, that raised him dretfully in Ardelia’s eyes; she owned up to me +that it did. She owned to me that she lead always thought she would +love to be a Banker’s Bride. She thought it sounded rich. She said, +“banker sounded so different from baker.” + +I sez to her coolly, that “it wuz only a difference of one letter, and +I never wuz much of a one to put the letter N above any of the others, +or to be haughty on havin’ it added to, or diminished from my name.” + +But she kep’ on a goin’ with him. She told me it wuz real romanticle +the way he got aquanted with her. He see her onbeknown to her one day, +when she wuz a writin’ a poem on one of the benches in the park. + +“A Poem on a Bench!” + +She wuz a settin’ on the bench, and a writin’ about it, she was a +writin’ on the bench in two different ways. Curius, haint it? + +But to resoom. He immegetly fell in love with her. And he got a feller +who wuz a boardin’ to his boardin’ place to interduce him to Ardelia’s +relative, Mr. Pixley, and Mr. Pixley interduced him to Ardelia. He told +Ardelia’s relatives the same story - That his father wuz a banker, that +he owned a bank and wuz doin’ a heavy business. + +Wall, I watched that young chap, and watched him close, and I see there +wuz one thing about him that could be depended on, he wuz truthful. + +He seemed almost morbid on the subject, and would dispute himself half +a hour, to get a thing or a story he wuz tellin’ jest exactly right. +But he drinked; that I know for I know the symptoms. Coffee can’t blind +the eyes of her that waz once Smith, nor peppermint cast a mist before +’em. My nose could have took its oath, if noses wuz ever put onto a bar +of Justice - my nose would have gin its firm testimony that Bial +Flamburg drinked. + +And there wuz that sort of a air about him, that I can’t describe +exactly - a sort of a half offish, half familier and wholly +disagreeable mean, that can be onderstood but not described. No, you +can’t picture that liniment, but you can be affected by it. Wall, Bial +had it. + +And I kep’ on a not likin’ him, and kep’ stiddy onwards a likin’ Abram +Gee. I couldn’t help it, nor did’nt want to. And I looked out constant +to ketch him in some big story that would break him right down in +Ardelia’s eyes, for I knew if she had been brought up on any one +commandment more’n another, it wuz the one ag’inst lyin’. She hated +lyin’. + +She had been brought up on the hull of the commandments but on that one +in particeler; she wuz brung up sharp but good. But not one lie could I +ketch him in. And he stuck to it, that his father wuz a banker and +doin’ a heavy business. + +Wall, it kep’ on, she a goin’ with him through ambition, for I see +plain, by signs I knoo, that she didn’t love him half as well as she +did Abram. And I felt bad, dretful bad, to set still and see Ambition +ondoin’ of her. For oft and oft she would speak to me of Bial’s +father’s bank and the heft of the business he wuz a doin’. + +And I finally got so worked up in my mind that I gin a sly hint to +Abram Gee, that if he ever wanted to get Ardelia Tutt, he had better +make a summer trip to Saratoga. I never told Ardelia what I had done, +but trusted to a overrulin’ destiny, that seems to enrap babys, and +lunatiks, and soft little wimmen, when their heads get kinder turned by +a man, and to Abram’s honest face when she should compare it with Bial +Flamburg’s, and to Abram’s pure, sweet breath with that mixture of +stale cigars, tobacco, beer, and peppermint. + +But Abram wrote back to me that his mother wuz a lyin’ at the p’int of +death with a fever - that his sister Susan wuz sick a bed with the same +fever and couldn’t come a nigh her and he couldn’t leave what might be +his mother’s death-bed. And he sez, if Ardelia had forgot him in so +short a time, mebby it wuz the best thing he could do, to try and +forget her. Anyway, he wouldn’t leave his dying mother for anything or +anybody. + +That wuz Abram Gee all over, a doin’ his duty every time by bread and +humanity. But he added a postscript and it wuz wrote in a agitated hand +- that jest as soon as his mother got so he could leave her, he should +come to Saratoga. + +The verses that Ardelia sent over to me wuz as follers: + +“A LAY ON A FEMALE TROUT IN CENTRAL PARK. +“BY ARDELIA TUTT. + +“Oh trout, sweet female trout, oh fain would I +In hottest day, perspirin’ dretfelee +Desend, and dressed most cool like thee, would lie +As deep in water, some two feet, or three +Or even four. + +“Who would not dress like thee on summer day? +How cool thy robes—lo! not one boddice waist +Or corset stay, to make thee taper small. +Thou taperest without them, and not then with haste, +Or Bandaline. + +“Thou crimpest not, or bangest up thy hair; +Thou hast no hair to bang, sweet trout so dear, +Thou dost not dance round dances, nor repair +Unto the thronged piazzas, nor appear, +Sweet modest trout. + +“In long and haughty trains thou never dost appear +And switch them up and down the corredere and hall +With diamond jewels hanging to thy ear; +Thou hast not ears to hang them on, no! not at all. +No, not one ear. + +“Thou walkest not in high heeled shoes, thou cannest not +For reesons it were vain to now relate. +Ah no! But let us cast one eye adown thy grot +And see thee sweet and patient wear thy fate, +And wear it well. + +“At Garden parties, Race Course, Music Hall, +We ne’er have set our weary eyes thy form upon; +Thou dost not ramble in the crowded maul, +Thou hast no legs sweet trout to ramble on; +Ah! no! dear one. + +“And so thou seemest well content to saunter not, +Or waltz about in garments fine and gay; +Oh. Mortal Man! a lesson learn of Trout +If thou no legs hast got, why seek to waltz away, +Or promenade? + +“And, beautius female, learn thou of dear trout +So move and swim in thine own native way; +Seek not high stations, titles great, and flout +Not thou at fate, but gently swim away +On native waves. + +“Cool blooded hold thy heart, like female trout; +Melt not at sweet, false words, that melt and seeth and burn; +She melteth not, oh no! she cooly turns about +And nibbles on, so thou, and follow on +Sweet female one.” + + + + + +Chapter IX. +JOSIAH’S FLIRTATIONS. + + +They say there is a sight of flirtin’ done at Saratoga. I didn’t hear +so much about it as Josiah did, naturally there are things that are +talked of more amongst men than women. Night after night he would come +home and tell me how fashionable it wuz, and pretty soon I could see +that he kinder wanted to follow the fashion. + +I told him from the first on’t that he’d better let it entirely alone. +Says I, “Josiah Allen, you wouldn’t never carry it through successful +if you should undertake it—and then think of the wickedness on’t.” + +But he seemed sot. He said “it wuz more fashionable amongst married men +and wimmen, than the more single ones,” he said “it wuz dretful +fashionable amongst pardners.” + +“Wall,” says I, “I shall have, nothin’ to do with it, and I advise you, +if you know when you are well off, to let it entirely alone.” + +“Of course,” says he, fiercely, “_You_ needn’t have nothin’ to do with +it. It is nothin’ you would want to foller up. And I would ruther see +you sunk into the ground, or be sunk myself, than to see you goin’ into +it. Why,” says he, savagely, “I would tear a man lim from lim, if I see +him a tryin’ to flirt with you.” (Josiah Allen worships me.) “But,” +says he, more placider like, “men _have_ to do things sometimes, that +they know is too hard for their pardners to do—men sometimes feel +called upon to do things that their pardners don’t care about—that they +haint strong enough to tackle. Wimmen are fragile creeters anyway.” + +No flirting + +“Oh, the fallacy of them arguments—and the weakness of ’em. + +But I didn’t say nothin’ only to reiterate my utterance, that “if he +went into it, he would have to foller it up alone, that he musn’t +expect any help from me.” + +“Oh no!” says he. “Oh! certainly not.” + +His tone wuz very genteel, but there seemed to be sumthin’ strange in +it. And I looked at him pityin’ly over my specks. The hull idea on it +wuz extremely distasteful to me, this talk about flirtin’, and etc., at +our ages, and with our stations in the Jonesville meetin’ house, and +with our grandchildren. + +But I see from day to day that he wuz a hankerin’ after it, and I +almost made up my mind that I should have to let him make a trial, +knowin’ that experience wuz the best teacher, and knowin’ that his +morals wuz sound, and he wuz devoted to me, and only went into the +enterprize because he thought it wuz fashionable. + +There wuz a young English girl a boardin’ to the same place we did. She +dressed some like a young man, carried a cane, etc. But she wuz one of +the upper 10, and wuz as pretty as a picture, and I see Josiah had +kinder sot his eyes on her as bein’ a good one to try his experiment +with. He thought she wuz beautiful. But good land! I didn’t care. I +liked her myself. But I could see, though he couldn’t see it, that she +wuz one of the girls who would flirt with the town pump, or the meetin’ +house steeple, if she couldn’t get nobody else to flirt with. She wuz +born so, but I suppose ontirely unbeknown to her when she wuz born. + +Wall, Josiah Allen would set and look at her by the hour—dretful +admirin’. But good land! I didn’t care. I loved to look at her myself. +And then too I had this feelin’ that his morals wuz sound. But after +awhile, I could see, and couldn’t help seein’, that he wuz a tryin’ in +his feeble way to flirt with her. And I told him kindly, but firmly, +“that it wuz somethin’ that I hated to see a goin’ on.” + +Josiah admires + +But he says, “Well, dumb it all, Samantha, if anybody goes to a +fashionable place, they ort to try to be fashionable. ’Taint nothin’ I +_want_ to do, and you ort to know it.” + +And I says in pityin’ axents but firm, “If you don’t want to, Josiah, I +wouldn’t, fashion or no fashion.” + +But I see I couldn’t convince him, and there happened to be a skercity +of men jest then—and he kep’ it up, and it kep’ me on the _key veav_, +as Maggie says, when she is on the tenter hooks of suspense. + +I felt bad to see it go on, not that I wuz jealous, no, my foretop lay +smooth from day to day, not a jealous hair in it, not one—but I felt +sorry for my companion. I see that while the endurin’ of it wuz hard +and tejus for him (for truly he was not a addep at the business; it +come tuff, feerful tuff on him), the endin’ wuz sure to be harder. And +I tried to convince him, from a sense of duty, that she wuz makin’ fun +of him—he had told me lots of the pretty things she had said to him—and +out of principle I told him that she didn’t mean one word of ’em. But I +couldn’t convince him, and as is the way of pardners, after I had sot +the reasen and the sense before him, and he wouldn’t hear to me, why +then I had to set down and bear it. Such is some of the trials of +pardners? + +Wall, it kep’ agoin’ on, and a goin’ on, and I kep’ a hatin’ to see it, +for if anybody has _got_ to flirt, which I am far from approvin’ of, +but if I have _got_ to see it a goin’ on, I would fain see it well +done, and Josiah’s efforts to flirt wuz like an effort of our old mair +to play a tune on the melodian, no grace in it, no system, nor comfort +to him, nor me. + +I s’pose the girl got some fun out of it; I hope she did, for if she +didn’t it wuz a wearisome job all round. + +Wall, a week or so rolled on, and it wuz still in progress. And one day +an old friend of ours, Miss Ezra Balch, from the east part of +Jonesville, come to see me. She come to Saratoga for the rheumatiz, and +wuz gettin’ well fast, and Ezra was gettin’ entirely cured of biles, +for which he had come, carbunkles. + +Wall, she invited Josiah and me to take a ride with ’em, and we both +accepted of it, and at the appointed time I wuz ready to the minute, +down on the piazza, with my brown cotton gloves on, and my mantilly +hung gracefully over my arm. But at the last minute, Josiah Allen said +“he couldn’t go.” + +I says “Why can’t you go?” + +“Oh,” he says, kinder drawin’ up his collar, and smoothin’ down his +vest, “Oh, I have got another engagement.” + +He looked real high-headed, and I says to him: + +“Josiah Allen didn’t you promise Druzilla Balch that you would go with +her and Ezra to-day?” + +“Wall yes,” says he, “but I can’t.” + +“Why not?” says I. + +“Wall, Samantha, though they are well meanin’, good people, they haint +what you may call fashionable, they haint the upper 10.” + +Says I, “Josiah Allen you have fell over 15 cents in my estimation, +sense we have begun talkin’, you won’t go with ’em because they haint +fashionable. They are good, honest Christian Methodists, and have stood +by you and me many a time, in times of trouble, and now,” says I, “you +turn against ’em because they haint fashionable.” Says I, “Josiah Allen +where do you think you’ll go to?” + +“Oh, probable down through Congress Park, and we may walk up as fur as +the Indian Encampment. I feel kinder mauger to-day, and my corns ache +feerful.” (His boots wuz that small that they wuz sights to behold, +sights!) “We probably shan’t walk fur,” says he. + +I see how ’twuze in a minute. That English girl had asked him to walk +with her, and my pardner had broken a solemn engagement with Ezra and +Druzilla Balch to go a walkin’ with her. I see how ’twuz, but I sot in +silence and one of the big rockin’ chairs, and didn’t say nothin’. + +Finally he says, with a sort of a anxious look onto his foreward: + +“You don’t feel bad, do you Samantha? You haint jealous, are you?” + +“Jealous!” says I, a lookin’ him calmly over from head to feet—it wuz a +witherin’ look, and yet pitiful, that took in the hull body and soul, +and weighed ’em in the balances of common sense, and pity, and justice. +It wuz a look that seemed to envelop him all to one time, and took him +all in, his bald head, his vest, and his boots, and his mind (what he +had), and his efforts to be fashionable, and his trials and +tribulations at it, and—and everything. I give him that one long look, +and then I says: + +“Jealous? No, I haint jealous.” + +Then silence rained again about us, and Josiah spoke out (his +conscience was a troublin’ him), and he says: + +“You know in fashionable life, Samantha, you have to do things which +seem unkind, and Ezra, though a good, worthy man, can’t understand +these things as I do.” + +Says I: “Josiah Allen, you’ll see the day that you’ll be sorry for your +treatment of Druzilla Balch, and Ezra.” + +“Oh wall,” says he, pullin’ up his collar, “I’m bound to be +fashionable. While I can go with the upper 10, it is my duty and my +privilege to go with ’em, and not mingle in the lower classes like the +Balches.” + +Says I firmly, “You look out, or some of them 10 will be the death of +you, and you may see the day that you will be glad to leave ’em, the +hull 10 of em, and go back to Druzilla and Ezra Balch.” + +But what more words might have passed between us, wuz cut short by the +arrival of Ezra and Druzilla in a good big carriage, with Miss Balch on +the back seat, and Ezra acrost from her, and a man up in front a +drivin’. It wuz a good lookin’ sight, and I hastened down the steps, +Josiah disappearin’ inside jest as quick as he ketched sight of their +heads. + +They asked me anxiously “where Josiah wuz and why he didn’t come?” And +I told ’em, “that Josiah had told me that mornin’ that he felt manger, +and he had some corns that wuz a achin’.” + +So much wuz truth, and I told it, and then moved off the subject, and +they seein’ my looks, didn’t pursue it any further. They proposed to go +back to their boardin’ place, and take in Deacon Balch, Ezra’s brother +from Chicago, who wuz stayin’ there a few days to recooperate his +energies, and get help for tizick. So they did. He wuz a widowed man. +Yes, he was the widower of Cornelia Balch who I used to know well, a +good lookin’ and a good actin’ man. And he seemed to like my appeerance +pretty well, though I am fur from bein’ the one that ort to say it. + +And as we rolled on over the broad beautiful road towards Saratoga +Lake, I begun to feel better in my mind. + +The Deacon wuz edifyin’ in conversation, and he thought, and said, +“that my mind was the heftiest one that he had ever met, and he had met +hundreds and hundreds of ’em.” He meant it, you could see that, he +meant every word he said. And it wuz kind of comfortin’ to hear the +Deacon say so, for I respected the Deacon, and I _knew_ he meant just +what he said. + +He said, and believed, though it haint so, but the Deacon believed it, +“that I looked younger than I did the day I wuz married.” + +I told him “I didn’t feel so young.” + +“Wall,” he said, “then my looks deceived me, for I looked as young, if +not younger.” + +Deacon Balch is a good, kind, Christian man. + +His conversation was very edifyin’, and he looked kinder good, and +warm-hearted at me out of his eyes, which wuz blue, some the color of +my Josiah’s. But alas! I felt that though some comforted and edified by +his talk, still, my heart was not there, not there in that double buggy +with 2 seats, but wuz afur off with my pardner. I felt that Josiah +Allen wuz a carryin’ my heart with him wherever he wuz a goin’. +Curious, haint it? Now you may set and smile, and talk, and seem to be +enjoyin’ yourself first-rate, with agreeable personages all around you, +and you do enjoy yourself with that part of your nater. But with it +all, down deep under the laughs, and the bright words, the comfort you +get out of the answerin’ laughs, the gay talk, under it all is the +steady consciousness that the real self is fur away, the heart, the +soul is fur away, held by some creeter whether he be high, or whether +he be low, it don’t matter—there your heart is, a goin’ towards +happiness, or a travellin’ towards pain as the case may be—curious, +haint it? + +Wall, Ezra and Druzilla wanted to go to the Sulphur Springs way beyend +Saratoga Lake, and as the Deacon wuz agreeable, and I also, we sot out +for it, though, as we all said, it wuz goin’ to be a pretty long and +tegus journey for a hot day. But we went along the broad, beautiful +highway, by the high, handsome gates of the Racing Park, down, down, by +handsome houses and shady woods, and fields of bright-colored wild +flowers on each side of the road, down to the beautiful lake, acrost it +over the long bridge, and then into the long, cool shadows of the +bendin’ trees that bend over the road on each side, while through the +green boughs, jest at our side we could ketch a sight of the blue, +peaceful waters, a lyin’ calm and beautiful jest by the side of us—on, +on, through the long, sheltered pathway, out into the sunshine for a +spell, with peaceful fields a layin’ about us, and peaceful cattle a +wanderin’ over ’em, and then into the shade agin, till at last we see a +beautiful mountin’, with its head held kinder high, crowned with ferns +and hemlocks, and its feet washed by the cool water of the beautiful +lake. + +The shadows of this mountin’, tree crowned, lay on the smooth, placid +wave, and a white sail boat wuz a comin’ round the side on’t, and +floatin’ over the green, crystal branches, and golden shadows. It wuz a +fair seen, seen for a moment, and then away we went into the green +shadows of the woods again, round a corner, and here we wuz, at the +Sulphur Springs. + +It wuz a quiet peaceful spot. The house looked pleasant, and so did the +Landlord, and Landlady, and we dismounted and walked through a long +clean hall, and went out onto a back piazza and sot down. And I thought +as I sot there, that I would be glad enough to set there, for some +time. Everything looked so quiet and serene. The paths leadin’ up the +hills in different directions, out into the green woods, looked quiet; +the pretty, grassy backyard leadin’ down to the water side looked green +and peaceable, and around all, and beyond all, wuz the glory of the +waters. They lay stretched out beautiful and in heavenly calm, and the +sun, which wuz low in the West, made a gold path acrost ’em, where it +seemed as if one could walk over only a little ways, into Perfect +Repose. The Lake somehow looked like a glowin’ pavement, it didn’t look +like water, but it seemed like broad fields of azure and palest +lavender, and pinky grey, and pearly white, and every soft and delicate +color that water could be crystalized into. And over all lay the +glowin’, tender sunset skies—it wuz a fair seen. And even as I looked +on in a almost rapped way, the sun come out from behind a soft cloud, +and lay on the water like a pillow of fire jest as I dream that pillow +did, that went ahead of my old 4 fathers. + +The rest on ’em seemed to be more intent on the lemonade with 2 straws +in ’em. I didn’t make no fuss. They are nice, clean folks, I make no +doubt. I wouldn’t make no fuss and tell on the hired man—women of the +house have enough to worry ’em anyway. But he had dropped some straws +into our tumblers, every one on ’em, I dare presume to say they had +been a fillin’ straw ticks. I jest took mine out in a quiet way, and +throwed ’em to one side. The rest on ’em, I see, and it wuz real good +in ’em, drinked through ’em, as we used to at school. It wuz real good +in Druzilla, and Ezra, and also in the Deacon. It kinder ondeared the +hull on ’em to me. I hope this won’t be told of, it orto be kep—for he +wuz a goodnatured lookin’ hired man, black, but not to blame for +that—and good land! what is a straw?—anyway they wuz clean. + +There wuz some tents sot up there in the back yard, lookin’ some as I +s’pose our old 4 fathers tents did, in the pleasant summer times of +old. And I asked a bystander a standin’ by, whose tents they wuz, and +he said they wuz Free Thinkers havin’ a convention. + +And I says, “How free?” + +And he said “they wuz great cases to doubt everything, they doubted +whether they wuz or not, and if they wuz or when, and if so, why?” + +And he says, “won’t you stay to-night over and attend the meetin’?” + +And I says, “What are they goin’ to teach tonight?” + +And he says, “The Whyness of the What” + +I says, “I guess that is too deep a subject for me to tackle,” and says +I, “Don’t they believe anything easier than that?” + +And he says, “They don’t believe anything. That is their belief—to +believe nothin’.” + +“Nothin’!” says I. + +“Yes,” says he, “Nothin’.” And, says he, “to-morrer they are goin’ to +prove beyond any question, that there haint any God, nor anything, and +never wuz anything.” + +“Be they?” sez I. + +“Yes,” says he, “and won’t you come and be convinced?” + +I looked off onto the peaceful waters, onto the hills that lay as the +mountains did about Jerusalem, onto the pillow of fire that seemed to +hold in it the flames of that light that had lighted the old world onto +the mornin’ of the new day,—and one star had come out, and stood +tremblin’ over the brow of the mountain and I thought of that star that +had riz so long time ago, and had guided the three wise men, guided ’em +jest alike from their three different homes, entirely unbeknown to each +other, guidin’ ’em to the cradle where lay the infant Redeemer of the +world, so long foretold by bard and prophet. I looked out onto the +heavenly glory of the day, and then inside into my heart, that held a +faith jest as bright and undyin’ as the light of that star—and I says, +“No, I guess I won’t go and be convinced.” + +Wall, we riz up to go most immediately afterwerds, and the Deacon (he +is very smart) observed: + +“How highly tickled and even highlarious the man seemed in talkin’ +about there not bein’ any future.” And he says, “It wuz a good deal +like a man laughin’ and clappin’ his hands to see his house burn down” + +And I sez, “it wuz far wurse, for his home wouldn’t stand more’n a 100 +years or so, and this home he wuz a tryin’ to destroy, wuz one that +would last through eternity.” “But,” says I, “it hain’t built by hands, +and I guess their hands hain’t strong enough to tear it down, nor high +enough to set fire to it.” + +And the Deacon says, “Jest so, Miss Allen, you spoke truthfully, and +eloquent.” (The Deacon is very smart.) + +When we got into the buggy to start, the Deacon says, “I would like to +resoom the conversation with you, Josiah Allen’s wife, a goin’ back.” + +And Druzilla spoke right out and says, “I will set on the front seat by +Ezra.” I says, “Oh no, Druzilla, I can hear the Deacon from where I sot +before.” + +But the Deacon says, Talkin’ loud towards night always offected his +voice onpleasantly, mebby Druzilla and he had better change seats. + +Again I demurred. And then Druzilla said she must set by Ezra, she +wanted to tell him sumthin’ in confidence. + +And so it wuz arraigned, for I felt that I wuz not the one to come +between pardners, no indeed. The road laid peacefuller and beautifuller +than ever, or so it seemed under the sunset glory that sort o’ hung +round it. Jest about half way through the woods we met the English +girl, a stridin’ along alone, each step more’n 3 feet long, or so it +seemed to me. There wuz a look of health, and happy determination on +her forwerd as she strided rapidly by. + +I would have fain questioned her concernin’ my pardner, as she strode +by, but before I could call out, or begon to her she wuz far in the +rearwerd, and goin’ in a full pressure and in a knot of several miles +an hour. + +Wall, from that minute I felt strange and curious. And though Druzilla +and Ezra was agreeable and the Deacon edifyin’, I didn’t seem to feel +edified, and the most warm-hearted looks didn’t seem to warm my heart +none, it wuz oppressed with gloomy forebodings of, Where wuz my +pardner? They had laid out to set out together. Had they sot? This +question was a goverin’ me, and the follerin’ one: If they had sot out +together, where wuz my pardner, Josiah Allen, now? As I thought these +feerful thoughts, instinctively I turned around to see if I could see a +trace of his companion in the distance. Yes, I could ketch a faint +glimpse of her as she wuz mountin’ a diclivity, and stood for an +instant in sight, but long before even, she disopeered agin, for her +gait wuz tremendous, and at a rate of a good many knots she wuz a +goin’, that I knew. And the fearful thought would rise, Josiah Allen +could not go more than half a knot, if he could that. He wuz a slow +predestinatur any way, and then his corns was feerful, and never could +be told—and his boots had in ’em the elements of feerful sufferin’. It +wuz all he could do when he had ’em on to hobble down to the spring, +and post-office. Where? where wuz he? And she a goin’ at the rate of so +many knots. + +Oh! the agony of them several minutes, while these thoughts wuz +rampagin through my destracted brain. + +Oh! if pardners only knew the agony they bring onto their devoted +companions, by their onguarded and thoughtless acts, and attentions to +other females, gin without proper reseerch and precautions, it would +draw their liniments down into expressions of shame and remorse. Josiah +wouldn’t have gone with her if he had known the number of knots she wuz +a goin’, no, not one step—then why couldn’t he have found out the +number of them knots—why couldn’t he? Why can’t pardners look ahead and +see to where their gay attentions, their flirtations that they call +mild and innercent, will lead ’em to? Why can’t they realize that it +haint only themselves they are injurin’, but them that are bound to ’em +by the most sacred ties that folks can be twisted up in? Why can’t they +realize that a end must come to it, and it may be a fearful and a +shameful one, and if it is a happiness that stops, it will leave in the +heart when happiness gets out, a emptiness, a holler place, where like +as not onhappiness will get in, and mebby stay there for some time, +gaulin’ and heart-breakin’ to the opposite pardner to see it go on? + +If it is indifference, or fashion, or anything of that sort, why it +don’t pay none of the time, it don’t seem to me it duz, and the end +will be emptier and hollerer then the beginnin’. + +In the case of my pardner it wuz fashion, nothing but the butterfly of +fashion he wuz after, to act in a high-toned, fashionable manner, like +other fashionable men. And jest see the end on’t why he had brought +sufferin’ of the deepest dye onto his companion, and _what_, _what_ hed +he brought onto himself—onto his feet? + +Oh! the agony of them several moments while them thoughts was a rackin’ +at me. The moments swelled out into a half hour, it must have been a +long half hour, before I see far ahead, for the eyes of love is keen - +a form a settin’ on the grass by the wayside, that I re_cog_nized as +the form of my pardner. As we drew nearer we all re_cog_nized the +figure—but Josiah Allen didn’t seem to notice us. His boots was off, +and his stockin’s, and even in that first look I could see the agony +that was a rendin’ them toes almost to burstin’. Oh, how sorry I felt +for them toes! He was a restin’ in a most dejected and melancholy +manner on his hand, as if it wuz more than sufferin’ that ailed him—he +looked a sufferer from remorse, and regret, and also had the air of one +whom mortification has stricken. + +He never seemed to sense a thing that wuz passin’ by him, till the +driver pulled up his horses clost by him, and then he looked up and see +us. And far be it from me to describe the way he looked in his lowly +place on the grass. There wuz a good stun by him on which he might have +sot, but no, he seemed to feel too mean to get up onto that stun; +grass, lowly, unassumin’ grass, wuz what seemed to suit him best, and +on it he sot with one of his feet stretched out in front of him. + +Oh! the pitifulness of that look he gin us, oh! the meakinness of it. +And even, when his eye fell on the Deacon a settin’ by my side, oh! the +wild gleam of hatred, and sullen anger that glowed within his orb, and +revenge! He looked at the Deacon, and then at his boots, and I see the +wild thought wuz a enterin’ his sole, to throw that boot at him. But I +says out of that buggy the very first thing the words I have so oft +spoke to him in hours of danger: + +“Joisiah, be calm!” + +His eye fell onto the peaceful grass agin, and he says: “Who hain’t a +bein’ calm? I should say I wuz calm enough, if that is what you want.” + +But, oh, the sullenness of that love. + +Says Ezra, good man—he see right through it all in a minute, and so did +Druzilla and the Deacon—says Ezra, “Get up on the seat with the driver, +Josiah Allen, and drive back with us.” + +“No,” says Josiah, “I have no occasion, I am a settin’ here,” (looking +round in perfect agony) “I am a settin’ here to admire the scenery.” + +Then I leaned over the side of the buggy, and says I, “Josiah Allen, do +you get in and ride, it will kill you to walk back; put on your boots +if you can, and ride, seein’ Ezra is so perlite as to ask you.” + +“Yes, I see he is very perlite, I see you have set amongst very perlite +folks, Samantha,” says he, a glarin’ at Deacon Balch as if he would +rend him from lim to lim, “But as I said, I have no occasion to ride, I +took off my boots and stockin’s merely—merely to pass away time. You +know at fashionable resorts,” says he, “it is sometimes hard for men to +pass away time.” + +Says I in low, deep accents, “Do put on your stockin’s, and your boots, +if you can get ’em on, which I doubt, but put your stockin’s on this +minute, and get in, and ride.” + +“Yes,” says Ezra, “hurry up and get in, Josiah Allen, it must be +dretful oncomfortabe a settin’ down there in the grass.” + +“Oh, no!” says Josiah, and he kinder whistled a few bars of no tune +that wuz ever heard on, or ever will be heard on agin, so wild and +meloncholy it wuz—“I sot down here kind o’ careless. I thought seein’ I +hadn’t much on hand to do at this time o’ year, I thought I would like +to look at my feet—we hain’t got a very big lookin’ glass in our room.” + +Oh, how incoherent and over-crazed he was a becomin’! Who ever heard of +seein’ anybody’s feet in a lookin’ glass—of dependin’ on a lookin’ +glass for a sight on ’em? Oh, how I pitied that man! and I bent down +and says to him in soothin’ axents: “Josiah Allen, to please your +pardner you put on your stockin’s and get into this buggy. Take your +boots in your hand, Josiah, I know you can’t get ’em on, you have +walked too far for them corns. Corns that are trampled on, Josiah +Allen, rise up and rends you, or me, or anybody else who owns ’em or +tramples on ’em. It hain’t your fault, nobody blames you. Now get right +in.” + +“Yes, do,” says the Deacon. + +Oh! the look that Josiah Allen gin him. I see the voyolence of that +look, that rested first on the Deacon, and then on that, boot. + +And agin I says, “Josiah Allen.” And agin the thought of his own +feerful acts, and my warnin’s came over him, and again mortification +seemed to envelop him like a mantilly, the tabs goin’ down and coverin’ +his lims—and agin he didn’t throw that boot. Agin Deacon Balch escaped +oninjured, saved by my voice, and Josiah’s inward conscience, inside of +him. + +Wall, suffice it to say, that after a long parley, Josiah Allen wuz a +settin’ on the high seat with the driver, a holdin’ his boots in his +hand, for truly no power on earth could have placed them boots on +Josiah Allen’s feet in the condition they then wuz. + +And so he rode on howewards, occasionally a lookin’ down on the Deacon +with looks that I hope the recordin’ angel didn’t photograph, so dire, +and so revengeful, and jealous, and—and everything, they wuz. And ever, +after ketchin’ the look in my eye, the look in his’n would change to a +heart-rendin’ one of remorse, and sorrow, and shame for what he had +done. And the Deacon, wantin’ to be dretful perlite to him, would ask +him questions, and I could see the side of Josiah’s face, all glarin’ +like a hyena at the sound of his voice, and then he would turn round +and ossume a perlite genteel look as he answered him, and then he glare +at me in a mad way every time I spoke to the Deacon, and then his mad +look would change, even to one of shame and meakinness. And he in his +stockin’ feet, and a pertendin’ that he didn’t put his boots on, +because it wuzn’t wuth while to put ’em on agin so near bed-time. And +he that sot out that afternoon a feelin’ so haughty, and lookin’ down +on Ezra and Druzilla, and bein’ brung back by ’em, in that +condition—and bein’ goured all the time by thoughts of the ignominious +way his flirtin’ had ended, by her droppin’ him by the side of the +road, like a weed she had trampled on too hardly. And a bein’ gourded +deeper than all the rest of his agonies, by a senseless jealousy of +Deacon Balch—and a thinkin’ for the first time in his life, what it +would be, if her affections, that had been like a divine beacon to him +all his life, if that flame should ever go out, or ever flicker in its +earthly socket—oh, those thoughts that he had seemed to consider in his +own mad race for fashion—oh, how that sass that had seemed sweet to him +as a gander, oh how bitter and poisonous it wuz to partake of as a +goose. + +Oh! the agony of that ride. We went middlin’ slow back—and before we +got to Saratoga the English girl went past us, she had been to the +Sulphur Springs and back agin. She didn’t pay no attention to us, for +she wuz alayin’ on a plan in her own mind, for a moonlight pedestrian +excursion on foot, that evenin’, out to the old battle ground of +Saratoga. + +Josiah never looked to the right hand or the left, as she passed him, +at many, many a knot an hour. And I felt that my pardner’s sufferin +from that cause was over, and mine too, but oh! by what agony wuz it +gained. For 3 days and 3 nights he never stood on any of his feet for a +consecutive minute and a half, and I bathed him with anarky, and bathed +his very soul with many a sweet moral lesson at the same time. And when +at last Josiah Allen emerged from that chamber, he wuz a changed man in +his demeanor and liniment, such is the power of love and womanly +devotion. + +Sore feet + +He never looked at a woman durin’ our hull stay at Saratoga, save with +the eye of a philosopher and a Methodist. + +Changed man + + + + +Chapter X. +MISS G. WASHINGTON FLAMM. + + +Miss G. Washington Flamm is a very fashionable woman. Thomas Jefferson +carried her through a law-suit, and carried her stiddy and safe. (She +wuz in the right on’t, there haint no doubt of that.) + +She had come to Jonesville for the summer to board, her husband bein’ +to home at the time in New York village, down on Wall street. He had to +stay there, so she said. I don’t know why, but s’pose sunthin’ wuz the +matter with the wall; anyway he couldn’t leave it. And she went round +to different places a good deal for her health. There didn’t seem to be +much health round where her husband wuz, so she had to go away after +it, go a huntin’ for it, way over to Europe and back ag’in; and away +off to California, and Colorado, and Long Branch, and Newport, and +Saratoga, and into the Country. It made it real bad for Miss Flamm. + +Now I always found it healthier where Josiah wuz than in any other +place. Difference in folks I s’pose. But they say there is sights and +sights of husbands and wives jest like Miss Flamm. Can’t find a mite of +health anywhere near where their families is, and have to poke off +alone after it. It makes it real bad for ’em. + +But anyway she came to Jonesville for her health. And she hearn of +Thomas Jefferson and employed him. It wuz money that fell onto her from +her father, or that should have fell, that she wuz a tryin’ to git it +to fall. And he won the case. It fell. She wuz rich as a Jew before she +got this money, but she acted as tickled over it as if she wuzn’t worth +a cent. (Human nater.) She paid Thomas J. well and she and Maggie and +he got to be quite good friends. + +She is a well-meanin’, fat little creeter, what there is of her. I have +seen folks smaller than she is, and then ag’in we seen them that wuzn’t +so small. She is middlin’ good lookin’, not old by any means, but there +is a deep wrinkle plowed right into her forward, and down each side of +her mouth. They are plowed deep. And I have always wondered to myself +who held the plow. + +It wuz’nt age, for she haint old enough. Wuz it Worry? That will do as +good a day’s work a plowin’ as any creeter I ever see, and work as +stiddy after it gits to doin’ day’s works in a female’s face. + +Waz it Dissatisfaction and Disappointment? They, too, will plow deep +furrows and a sight of ’em. I don’t know what it wuz. Mebby it wuz her +waist and sleeves. Her sleeves wuz so tight that they kep’ her hands +lookin’ a kinder bloated and swelled all the time, and must have been +dretful painful. And her waist—it wuz drawed in so at the bottom, that +to tell the livin’ truth it wuzn’t much bigger’n a pipe’s tail. It beat +all to see the size immegatly above and below, why it looked perfectly +meraculous. She couldn’t get her hands up to her head to save her life; +if she felt her head a tottlin’ off her shoulders she couldn’t have +lifted her hands to have stiddied it, and, of course, she couldn’t get +a long breath, or short ones with any comfort. + +Mebby that worried her, and then ag’in, mebby it wuz dogs. I know it +would wear me out to take such stiddy care on one, day and night. I +never seemed to feel no drawin’s to take care of animals, wash ’em, and +bathe ’em, and exercise ’em, etc., etc., never havin’ been in the +menagery line and Josiah always keepin’ a boy to take care of the +animals when he wuzn’t well. Mebby it wuz dogs. Anyway she took +splendid care of hern, jest wore herself out a doin’ for it stiddy day +and night and bein’ trampled on, and barked at almost all the time she +wuz a bringin’ on it up. + +Yes, she took perfectly wonderful care on’t, for a woman in her health. +She never had been able to take any care of her children, bein’ _very_ +delicate. Never had been well enough to have any of ’em in the room +with her nights, or in the day time either. They tired her so, and she +wuz one of the wimmen who felt it wuz her _duty_ to preserve her health +for her family’s sake. Though _when_ they wuz a goin’ to get the +benefit of her health I don’t know. + +But howsumever she never could take a mite of care of her children, +they wuz brought up on wet nurses, and bottles, etc., etc., and wuz +rather weakly, some on ’em. The nurses, wet and dry ones both, used to +gin ’em things to make ’em sleep, and kinder yank ’em round and scare +’em nights to keep ’em in the bed, and neglect ’em a good deal, and +keep ’em out in the brilin’ sun when they wanted to see their bows; and +for the same reeson keepin’ em out in their little thin dresses in the +cold, and pinch their little arms black and blue if they went to tell +any of their tricks. And they learnt the older ones to be deceitful and +sly and cowerdly. Learnt ’em to use jest the same slang phrases and low +language that they did; tell the same lies, and so they wuz a spilin’ +’em in every way; spilin’ their brains with narcotics, their bodies by +neglect and bad usage, and their minds and morals by evil examples. + +You see some nurses are dretful good. But Miss Flamm’s health bein’ so +poor and her mind bein’ so took up with fashion, dogs, etc., that she +couldn’t take the trouble to find out about their characters and they +wuz dretful poor unbeknown to her. She had dretful bad luck with ’em, +and the last one drinked, so I have been told. + +Yes, it made it dretful bad for Miss Flamm that her health was so poor, +and her fashionable engagements so many and arduous that she didn’t +have the time to take a little care of her children and the dog too. +For you could see plain, by the care that she took of that dog, what a +splendid hand she would be with the children, if she only had the time +and health. + +Why, I don’t believe there wuz another dog in America, either the upper +or lower continent, that had more lovin’, anxus, intelligent, devoted +attention than that dog had, day and night, from Miss Flamm. She took 2 +dog papers, so they say, to get the latest information on the subject; +she compared notes with other dog wimmen, I don’t say it in a runnin’ +way at all. I mean wimmen who have gin their hull minds to dog, havin’, +some on ’em, renounced husbands, and mothers, and children for dog +sake. + +You know there are sich wimmen, and Miss Flamm read up and studied with +constant and absorbed attention all the latest things on dog. Their +habits, their diet, their baths, their robes, their ribbons, and bells, +and collars, their barks—nothin’ escaped her; she put the best things +she learned into practice, and studied out new ones for herself. She +said she had reduced the subject to a science, and she boasted proudly +that her dog, the last one she had, went ahead of any dog in the +country. And I don’t know but it did. I knew it had a good healthy +bark. A loud strong bark that must have made it bad for her in the +night. It always slept with her, for she didn’t dast to trust it out of +her sight nights. It had had some spells in the night, kinder chills, +or spuzzums like, and she didn’t dast to be away from it for a minute. + +She wouldn’t let the wet nurse tech it, for her youngest child, little +G. Washington Flamm, Jr., wuzn’t very healthy, and Miss Flamm thought +that mebby the dog might ketch his weakness if the nurse handled it +right after she had been nursin’ the baby. And then she objected to the +nurse, so I hearn, on account of her bein’ wet. She wanted to keep the +dog dry. I hearn this; I don’t know as it wuz so. But I hearn these +things long enough before I ever see her. And when I did see her I see +that they didn’t tell me no lies about her devotion to the dog, for she +jest worshiped it, that was plain to be seen. + +Wall, she has got a splendid place at Saratoga; a cottage she calls it. +_I_, myself, should call it a house, for it is big as our house and +Deacon Peddick’ses and Mr. Bobbett’ses all put together, and I don’t +know but bigger. + +Wall, she invited Josiah and me to drive with her, and so her dog and +she stopped for us. (I put the dog first, for truly she seemed to put +him forward on every occasion in front of herself, and so did her +high-toned relatives, who wuz with her.) + +Or I s’pose they wuz her relatives for they sot up straight, and wuz +dretful dressed up, and acted awful big-feelin’ and never took no +notice of Josiah and me, no more than if we hadn’t been there. But good +land! I didn’t care for that. What if they didn’t pay any attention to +us? But Josiah, on account of his tryin’ to be so fashionable, felt it +deeply, and he sez to me while Miss Flamm wuz a bendin’ down over the +dog, a talkin’ to him, for truly it wuz tired completely out a barkin’ +at Josiah, it had barked at him every single minute sense we had +started, and she wuz a talkin’ earnest to it a tryin’ to soothe it, and +Josiah whispered to me, “I’ll tell you, Samantha, why them fellers feel +above me; it is because I haint dressed up in sech a dressy fashion. +Let me once have on a suit like their’n, white legs and yellow +trimmin’s, and big shinin’ buttons sot on in rows, and white gloves, +and rosettes in my hat—why I could appear in jest as good company as +they go in.” + +In the Carriage + +Sez I, “You are too old to be dressed up so gay, Josiah Allen. There is +a time for all things. Gay buttons and rosettes look well with brown +hair and sound teeth, but they ort to gently pass away when they do. +Don’t talk any more about it, Josiah, for I tell you plain, you are too +old to dress like them, they are young men.” + +“Wall,” he whispered, in deep resolve, “I will have a white rosette in +my hat, Samantha. I will go so far, old or not old. What a sensation it +will create in the Jonesville meetin’-house to see me come a walkin’ +proudly in, with a white rosette in my hat.” + +“You are goin’ to walk into meetin’ with your hat on, are you?” sez I +coldly. + +“Oh, ketch a feller up. You know what I mean. And don’t you think I’ll +make a show? Won’t it create a sensation in Jonesville?” + +Sez I: “Most probable it would. But you haint a goin’ to wear no bows +on your hat at your age, not if I can break it up,” sez I. + +He looked almost black at me, and sez he, “Don’t go too fur, Samantha! +I’ll own you’ve been a good wife and mother and all that, but there is +a line that you must stop at. You _mustn’t_ go too fur. There is some +things in which a man must be footloose, and that is in the matter of +dress. I shall have a white rosette on my hat, and some big white +buttons up and down the back of my overcoat! That is my aim, Samantha, +and I shall reach it if I walk through goar.” + +He uttered them fearful words in a loud fierce whisper which made the +dog bark at him for more’n ten minutes stiddy, at the top of its voice, +and in quick short yelps. + +If it had been her young child that wuz yellin’ at a visitor in that +way and ketchin’ holt of him, and tearin’ at his clothes, the child +would have been consigned to banishment out of the room, and mebby +punishment. But it wuzn’t her babe and so it remained, and it dug its +feet down into the satin and laces and beads of Miss Flamm’s dress, and +barked to that extent that we couldn’t hear ourselves think. + +And she called it “sweet little angel,” and told it it might “bark its +little cunnin’ bark.” The idee of a angel barkin’; jest think on’t. And +we endured it as best we could with shakin’ nerves and achin’ earpans. + +It wuz a curius time. The dog harrowin’ our nerve, and snappin’ at +Josiah anon, if not oftener, and ketchin’ holt of him anywhere, and she +a callin’ it a angel; and Josiah a lookin’ so voyalent at it, that it +seemed almost as if that glance could stun it. + +It wuz a curius seen. But truly worse wuz to come, for Miss Flamm in an +interval of silence, sez, “We will go first to the Gizer Spring, and +then, afterwards, to the Moon.” + +Or, that is what I understand her to say. And though I kep’ still, I +wuz determined to keep my eyes out, and if I see her goin’ into +anything dangerus, I wuz goin’ to reject her overtures to take us. But +thinkses I to myself, “We always said I believed we should travel to +the stars some time, but I little thought it would be to-day, or that I +should go in a buggy.” + +Josiah shared my feelin’s I could see, for he whispered to me, “Don’t +le’s go, Samantha, it must be dangerus!” + +But I whispered back, “Le’s wait, Josiah, and see. We won’t do nothin’ +percipitate, but,” sez I, “this is a chance that we most probable never +will have ag’in. Don’t le’s be hasty.” We talked these things in +secret, while Miss Flamm wuz a bendin’ over, and conversin’ with the +dog. For Josiah would ruther have died than not be s’pozed to be “Oh +Fay,” as Maggie would say, in everything fashionable. And it has always +been my way to wait and see, and count 10, or even 20, before speakin’. + +And then Miss Flamin sez sunthin’ about what beautiful fried potatoes +you could get there in the moon, and you could always get them, any +time you wanted ’em. + +And the very next time she went to kissin’ the dog so voyalently as not +to notice us, my Josiah whispered to me and sez, “Did you have any idee +that wuz what the old man wuz a doin’? I knew he wuz always a settin’ +up there in the moon, but it never passed my mind that he wuz a fryin’ +potatoes.” + +But I sez, “Keep still, Josiah. It is a deep subject, a great +undertakin’, and it requires caution and deliberation.” + +But he sez,”I haint a goin’, Samantha! Nor I haint a goin’ to let you +go. It is dangerus.” + +But I kinder nudged him, for she had the dog down on her lap, and was +ready to resoom conversation. And about that time we got to the +entrance of the spring, and one of her relatives got down and opened +the carriage door. + +I wondered ag’in that she didn’t introduce us. But I didn’t care if she +didn’t. I felt that I wuz jest as good as they wuz, if they wuz so +haughty. But Josiah wantin’ to make himself agreeable to ’em (he +hankers after gettin’ into high society), he took off his hat and bowed +low to ’em, before he got out, and sez he, “I am proud to know you, +sir,” and tried to shake hands with him. But the man rejected his +overtoors and looked perfectly wooden, and oninterested. A big-feelin’, +high-headed creeter. Josiah Allen is as good as he is any day. And I +whispered to him and sez, “Don’t demean yourself by tryin’ to force +your company onto them any more.” + +“Wall,” he whispered back, “I do love to move in high circles.” + +Sez I, “Then I shouldn’t think you would be so afraid of the +undertakin’ ahead on us. If neighborin’ with the old man in the moon, +and eatin’ supper with him, haint movin’ in high circles, then I don’t +know what is.” + +“But I don’t want to go into anything dangerus,” sez he. + +But jest then Miss Flamm.spoke to me, and I moved forward by her side +and into a middlin’ big room, and in the middle wuz a great sort of a +well like, with the water a bubblin’ up into a clear crystal globe, and +a sprayin’ up out of it, in a slender misty sparklin’ spray. It wuz a +pretty sight. And we drinked a glass full of it a piece, and then we +wandered out of the back door-way, and went down into the pretty; +old-fashioned garden back of the house. + +Josiah and me and Miss Flamm went. The dog and the two relatives didn’t +seem to want to go. The relatives sot up there straight as two sticks, +one of ’em holdin’ the dog, and they didn’t even look round at us. + +“Felt too big to go with us,” sez Josiah, bitterly, as we went down the +steps. “They won’t associate with me.” + +“Wall, I wouldn’t care if I wuz in your place, Josiah Allen,” sez I, +“you are jest as good as they be, and I know it.” + +“You couldn’t make ’em think so, dumb ’em,” sez he. + +I liked the looks of it down there. It seems sometimes as if Happiness +gets kinder homesick, in the big dusty fashionable places, and so goes +back to the wild, green wood, and kinder wanders off, and loafs round, +amongst the pine trees, and cool sparklin’ brooks and wild flowers and +long shinin’ grasses and slate stuns, and etc., etc. + +I don’t believe she likes it half so well up in the big hotel gardens +or Courtin’ yards, as she does down there. You see it seems as if +Happiness would have to be more dressed up, up there, and girted down, +and stiff actin’, and on her good behavior, and afraid of actin’ or +lookin’ onfashionable. But down here by the side of the quiet little +brook, amongst the cool, green grasses, fur away from diamonds, and +satins, and big words, and dogs, and parasols, and so many, many that +are a chasin’ of her and a follerin’ of her up, it seemed more as if +she loved to get away from it all, and get where she could take her +crown off, lay down her septer, onhook her corset, and put on a long +loose gown, and lounge round and enjoy herself (metafor). + +We had a happy time there. We went over the little rustick bridges +which would have been spilte in my eyes if they had been rounded off on +the edges, or a mite of paint on ’em. Truly, I felt that I had seen +enough of paint and gildin’ to last me through a long life, and it did +seem such a treat to me to see a board ag’in, jest a plain rough +bass-wood board, and some stuns a lyin’ in the road, and some deep tall +grass that you had to sort a wade through. + +Miss Flamm seemed to enjoy it some down there, though she spoke of the +dog, which she had left up with her relatives. + +“3 big-feelin’ ones together,” I whispered to Josiah. + +And he sez, “Yes, that dog is a big-feelin’ little cuss-tomer. And if I +wuz a chipmunk he couldn’t bark at me no more than he duz.” + +And I looked severe at Josiah and sez I, “If you don’t jine your +syllables closer together you will see trouble, Josiah Allen. You’ll +find yourself swearin’ before you know it.” + +“Oh shaw, sez he, “customer haint a swearin’ word; ministers use it. +I’ve hearn ’em many a time.” + +“Yes,” sez I, “but they don’t draw it out as you did, Josiah Allen.” + +“Oh! wall! Folks can’t always speak up pert and quick when they are off +on pleasure exertions and have been barked at as long as I have been. +But now I’ve got a minutes chance,” sez he, “let me tell you ag’in, +don’t you make no arraingments to go to the Moon. It is dangerus, and I +won’t go myself, nor let you go.” + +“_Let_,” sez I to myself. “That is rather of a gaulin’ word to me. +Won’t _let_ me go.” But then I thought ag’in, and thought how love and +tenderness wuz a dictatin’ the term, and I thought to myself, it has a +good sound to me, I _like_ the word. I love to hear him say he won’t +_let_ me go. + +And truly to me it looked hazerdus. But Miss Flamm seemed ready to go +on, and onwillin’ly I followed on after her footsteps. But I looked +’round, and said “Good-bye” in my heart, to the fine trees, and cleer, +brown waters of the brook, the grass, and the wild flowers, and the +sweet peace that wuz over all. + +“Good-bye,” sez I. “If I don’t see you ag’in, you’ll find some other +lover that will appreciate you, though I am fur away.” + +They didn’t answer me back, none on ’em, but I felt that they +understood me. The pines whispered sunthin’ to each other, and the +brook put its moist lips up to the pebbly shore and whispered sunthin’ +to the grasses that bent down to hear it. I don’t know exactly what it +wuz, but it wuz sunthin’ friendly I know, for I felt it speak right +through the soft, summer sunshine into my heart. They couldn’t exactly +tell what they felt towards me, and I couldn’t exactly tell what I felt +towards them, yet we understood each other; curi’us, haint it? + +Wall, we got into the carriage ag’in, one of her relatives gettin’ down +to open the door. They knew what good manners is; I’ll say that for +’em. And Miss Flamm took her dog into her arms seemin’ly glad to get +holt of him ag’in, and kissed it several times with a deep love and +devotedness. She takes good care of that dog. And what makes it harder +for her to handle him is, her dress is so tight, and her sleeves. I +s’pose that is why she can’t breathe any better, and what makes her +face and hands red, and kinder swelled up. She can’t get her hands to +her head to save her, and if a assassin should strike her, she couldn’t +raise her arm to ward off the blow if he killed her. I s’pose it worrys +her. + +And she has to put her bunnet on jest as quick as she gets her +petticoats on, for she can’t lift he arms to save her life after she +gets her corsets on. She owned up to me once that it made her feel +queer to be a walkin’ ’round her room with not much on only her bunnet +all trimmed off with high feathers and artificial flowers. + +But she said she wuz willing to do anythin’ _necessary_, and she felt +that she _must_ have her waist taper, no matter what stood in the way +on’t. She loves the looks of a waist that tapers. That wuz all the +fault she found with the Goddus of Liberty enlightenin’ the world in +New York Harber. We got to talkin’ about it and she said, “If that +Goddus only had corsets on, and sleeves that wuz skin tight, and her +overskirt looped back over a bustle, it would be perfect!” + +But I told her I liked her looks as well ag’in as she wuz. “Why,” sez +I, “How could she lift her torch above her head? And how could she ever +enlighten the world, if she wuz so held down by her corsets and sleeves +that she couldn’t wave her torch?” + +She see in a minute that it couldn’t be done. She owned up that she +couldn’t enlighten the world in that condition, but as fur as looks +went, it would be perfectly beautiful. + +But I don’t think so at all. But, as I say, Miss Flamm has a real hard +time on’t, all bard down as she is, and takin’ all the care of that +dog, day and night. She is jest devoted to it. + +Why jest before we started a little lame girl with a shabby dress, but +a face angel sweet, came to the side of the carriage to sell some water +lilies. Her face looked patient, and wistful, and she jest held out her +flowers silently, and stood with her bare feet on the wet ground and +her pretty eyes lookin’ pitifully into our’n. She wanted to sell ’em +awfully, I could see. And I should have bought the hull of ’em +immegitly, my feelin’s was sech, but onfortionably I had left my +port-money in my other pocket, and Josiah said he had left his (mebby +he had). But Miss Flamm would have bought ’em in a minute, I knew, the +child’s face looked so mournful and appealin’; she would have bought +’em, but she wuz so engrossed by the dog; she wuz a holdin’ him up in +front of her a admirin’ and carressin’ of him, so’s she never ketched +sight of the lame child. + +No body, not the best natured creeter in the world, can see through a +dog when it is held clost up to the eye, closer than anything else. + +Wall, we drove down to what they called Vichy Spring and there on a +pretty pond clost to the springhouse, we see a boat with a bycycle on +it, and a boy a ridin’ it. The boat wuz rigged out to look like a swan +with its wings a comin’ up each side of the boy. And down on the water, +a sailin’ along closely and silently wuz another swan, a shadow swan, a +follerin’ it right along. It wuz a fair seen. + +And Josiah sez to me, “He should ride that boat before he left +Saratoga; he said that wuz a undertakin’ that a man might be proud to +accomplish.” + +Sez I, “Josiah Allen, don’t you do anything of the kind.” + +“I _must_, Samantha,” sez he. And then he got all animated about fixin’ +up a boat like it at home. Sez he, “Don’t you think it would be +splendid to have one on the canal jest beyond the orchard?” And sez he, +“Mebby, bein’ on a farm, it would be more appropriate to have a big +goose sculptured out on it; don’t you think so?” + +Sez I, “Yes, it would be fur more appropriate, and a goose a ridin’ on +it. But,” sez I, “you will never go into that undertakin’ with my +consent, Josiah Allen.” + +“Why,” sez he, “it would be a beautiful recreation; so uneek.” + +But at that minute Miss Flamm gin the order to turn round and start for +the Moon, or that is how I understood her, and I whispered to Josiah +and sez, “She means to go in the buggy, for the land’s sake!” + +And Josiah sez, “Wall, I haint a goin’ and you haint. I won’t let you +go into anythin’ so dangerus. She will probably drive into a baloon +before long, and go up in that way, but jest before she drives in, you +and I will get out, Samantha, if we have to walk back.” + +“I never heard of anybody goin’ up in a baloon with two horses and a +buggy,” sez I. + +“Wall, new things are a happenin’ all the time, Samantha. And I heard a +feller a talkin’ about it yesterday. You know they are a havin’ the big +political convention here, and he said, (he wuz a real cute chap too,) +he said, ‘if the wind wasted in that convention could be utilized by +pipes goin’ up out of the ruff of that buildin’ where it is held,’ he +said, ‘it would take a man up to the moon.’ I heerd him say it. And +now, who knows but they have got it all fixed. There wuz dretful windy +speeches there this mornin’. I hearn ’em, and I’ll bet that is her +idee, of bein’ the first one to try it; she is so fashionable. But I +haint a goin’ up in no sech a way.” + +“No,” sez I. “Nor I nuther. It would be fur from my wishes to be +carried up to the skies on the wind of a political convention. +“Though,” sez I reasonably, “I haint a doubt that there wuz sights, and +sights of it used there.” + +But jest at this minute Miss Flamm got through talkin’ with her +relatives about the road, and settled down to caressin’ the dog ag’in, +and Josiah hadn’t time to remark any further, only to say, “Watch me, +Samantha, and when I say jump, jump.” + +And then we sot still but watchful. And Miss Flamm kissed the dog +several times and pressed him to her heart that throbbed full of such a +boundless love for him. And he lifted his head and snapped at a fly, +and barked at my companion with a renewed energy, and showed his +intellect and delightful qualities in sech remarkable ways, that filled +Miss Flamm’s soul deep with a proud joy in him. And then he went to +sleep a layin, down in her lap, a mashin’ down the delicate lace and +embroidery and beads. He had been a eating the beads, I see him gnaw +off more than two dozen of ’em, and I called her attention to it, but +she said, “The dear little darlin’ had to have some such recreation.” +And she let him go on with it, a mowin’ ’em down, as long as he seemed +to have a appetite for ’em. And ag’in she called him “angel.” The idee +of a angel a gnawin’ off beads and a yelpin’! + +And I asked her, and I couldn’t help it. How her baby wuz that +afternoon, and if she ever took it out to drive? + +And she said she didn’t really know how it wuz this afternoon; it +wuzn’t very well in the mornin’. The nurse had it out somewhere, she +didn’t really know just where. And she said, no, she didn’t take it out +with her at all—fur she didn’t feel equal to the care of it, in this +hot weather. + +Miss Flamm haint very well I could see that. The care of that dog is +jest a killin’ her, a carryin’ it round with her all the time daytimes, +and a bein’ up with it so much nights. She said it had a dretful chill +the night before, and she had to get up to warm blankets to put round +it; “its nerves wuz so weak,” she said, “and it wuz so sensative that +she could not trust it to a nurse.” She has a hard time of it; there +haint a doubt of it. + +Wall, it wuz anon, or jest about anon, that Miss Flamm turned to me and +sez, “Moon’s is one of the pleasantest places on the lake. I want you +to see it; folks drive out there a sight from Saratoga.” + +And then I looked at Josiah, and Josiah looked at me, and peace and +happiness settled down ag’in onto our hearts. + +Wall, we got there considerably before anon and we found that Moon’s +insted of bein’ up in another planet wuz a big, long sort a low +buildin’ settled right down onto this old earth, with a immense piazza +stretchin’ along the side on’t. + +And Miss Flamm and Josiah and me disembarked from the carriage right +onto the end of it. But the dog and her relatives stayed back in the +buggy and Josiah spoke bitterly to me ag’in but low, “They think it +would hurt ’em to associate with me a little, dumb ’m; but I am jest as +good as they be any day of the week, if I haint dressed up so fancy.” + +“That’s so,” sez I, whisperin’ back to him, “and don’t let it worry you +a mite. Don’t try to act like Haman,” sez I. “You are havin’ lots of +the good things of this world, and are goin’ to have some fried +potatoes. Don’t let them two Mordecais at the gate, poison all your +happiness, or you may get come up with jest as Haman wuz.” + +“I’d love to hang’em,” sez he, “as high as Haman’s gallows would let +’em hang.” + +“Why,” sez I, “they haint injured you in any way. They seem to eat like +perfect gentlemen. A little too exclusive and aristocratic, mebby, but +they haint done nothin’ to you.” + +“No,” sez he, “that is the stick on it, here we be, three men with a +lot of wimmen. And they can’t associate with me as man with man, but +set off by themselves too dumb proud to say a word to me, that is the +dumb of it.” + +But at this very minute, before I could rebuke him for his feerful +profanity, Miss Flamm motioned to us to come and take a seat round a +little table, and consequently we sot. + +It was a long broad piazza with sights and sights of folks on it a +settin’ round little tables like our’n, and all a lookin’ happy, and a +laughin’, and a talkin’ and a drinkin’ different drinks, sech as +lemonade, etc., and eatin’ fried potatoes and sech. + +The Piazza + +And out in the road by which we had come, wuz sights and sights of +vehicles and conveyances of all kinds from big Tally Ho coaches with +four horses on ’em, down to a little two wheeled buggy. The road wuz +full on’em. + +In front of us, down at the bottom of a steep though beautiful hill, +lay stretched out the clear blue waters of the lake. Smooth and +tranquil it looked in the light of that pleasant afternoon, and fur +off, over the shinin’ waves, lay the island. And white-sailed boats wuz +a sailin’ slowly by, and the shadow of their white sails lay down in +the water a floatin’ on by the side of the boats, lookin’ some like the +wings of that white dove that used to watch over Lake Saratoga. + +And as I looked down on the peaceful seen, the feelin’s I had down in +the wild wood, back of the Gizer Spring come back to me. The waves +rolled in softly from fur off, fur off, bringin’ a greetin’ to me +unbeknown to anybody, unbeknown to me. It come into my heart unbidden, +unsought, from afur, afur. + +Where did it come from that news of lands more beautiful than any that +lay round Mr. Moons’es, beautiful as it wuz. + +Echoes of music sweeter fur than wuz a soundin’ from the band down by +the shore, music heard by some finer sense than heard that, heavenly +sweet, heavenly sad, throbbin’ through the remoteness of that country, +through the nearness of it, and fillin’ my eyes with tears. Not sad +tears, not happy ones, but tears that come only to them that shet their +eyes and behold the country, and love it. The waves softly lappin’ the +shore brought a message to me; my soul hearn it. Who sent it? And +where, and when, and why? + +Not a trace of these emotions could be read on my countenance as I sot +there calmly a eatin’ fried potatoes. And they _did_ go beyond anything +I ever see in the line of potatoes, and I thought I could fry potatoes +with any one: Yes, such wuz my feelin’s when I sot out for Mr. +Moons’es. But I went back a thinkin’ that potatoes had never been fried +by me, sech is the power of a grand achievment over a inferior one, and +so easy is the sails taken down out of the swellin’ barge of egotism. + +No, them potatoes you could carry in your pocket for weeks right by the +side of the finest lace, and the lace would be improved by the purity +of ’em. Fried potatoes in that condition, you could eat ’em with the +lightest silk gloves one and the tips of the fingers would be improved +by ’em; _fried_ potatoes, jest think on’t! + +Wall, we had some lemonade too, and if you’ll believe it,—I don’t +s’pose you will but it is the truth,—there wuz straws in them glasses +too. But you may as well believe it for I tell the truth at all times, +and if I wuz a goin’ to lie, I wouldn’t lie about lemons. And then I’ve +always noticed it, that if things git to happenin’ to you, lots of +things jest like it will happen. That made twice in one week or so, +that I had found straws in my tumbler. But then I have had company +three days a runnin’, rainy days too sometimes. It haint nothin’ to +wonder at too much. Any way it is the truth. + +Wall, we drinked our lemonade, I a quietly takin’ out the straws and +droppin’ ’em on the floor at my side in a quiet ladylike manner, and +Josiah, a bein’ wunk at by me, doin’ the same thing. + +And anon, our carriage drove up to the end of the piazza agin and we +sot sail homewards. And the dog barked at Josiah almost every step of +the way back, and when we got to our boardin’ place, Miss Flamm shook +hands with us both, and her relatives never took a mite of notice of +us, further than to jump down and open the carriage door for us as we +got out. (They are genteel in their manners, and Josiah had to admit +that they wuz, much as his feelin’s wuz hurt by their haughtiness +towards him.) + +And then the dog, and Miss Flamm and Miss Flamm’s relatives drove off. + + + + +Chapter XI. +VISIT TO THE INDIAN ENCAMPMENT. + + +It wuz a fair sunshiny mornin’ (and it duz seem to me that the fairness +of a Saratoga mornin’ seems fairer, and the sunshine more sunshiny than +it duz anywhere else), that Josiah and Ardelia and me sot sail for the +Indian Encampment, which wuz encamped on a little rise of ground to the +eastward of where we wuz. + +Ardelia wuz to come to our boardin’ place at halfpast 9 A. M., +forenoon, and we wuz to set out together from there. And punctual to +the very half minute I wuz down on the piazza, with my mantilly hung +over my arm and my umberel in my left hand. Josiah Allen was on the +right side on me. And as Ardelia hadn’t come yet we sot down in a +middlin’ quiet part of the piazza, and waited for her. And as we sot +there, I sez to Josiah, as I looked out on the fair pleasant mornin’ +and the fair pleasant faces environin’ of us round, sez I, “Saratoga is +a good-natured place, haint it, Josiah?” + +And he said (I mistrust his corns ached worse than common, or +sunthin’), he said, he didn’t see as it wuz any better-natured than +Jonesville or Loontown. + +And I sez, “Yes it is, Josiah Allen.” Sez I, folks are happier here and +more generous, the rich ones seem inclined to help them that need help +to a little comfort and happiness. Jest as I have always said, Josiah +Allen. When folks are happy, they are more inclined to do good.” + +“Oh shaw!” sez Josiah. “That never made no difference with me.” + +“What didn’t?” sez I. + +“I’m always good,” sez he, and he snapped out the words real snappish, +and loud. + +And I sez mildly, “Wall, you needn’t bring the ruff down to prove your +goodness.” + +And he went on: “I don’t see as they are so pesky good here; I haint +seen nothin’ of it.” + +“Wall,” sez I, “when I look over Yaddo, and Hilton Park, it makes me +reconciled, Josiah, to have men get rich; it makes me willin’, Josiah.” + +And he sez (cross), He guessed men would get rich whether I wuz willin’ +or not; he guessed they wouldn’t ask me. + +“Wall, you needn’t snap my head off, Josiah Allen,” sez I, “because I +love to see folks use their wealth to make pleasant places for poor +folks to wander round in, and forget their own narrow rocky roads for a +spell. It is a noble thing to do, Josiah Allen; they might have built +high walls round ’em if they had been a mind to, and locked the gates +and shet out all the poor and tired-out ones, But they didn’t, and I am +highly tickled at the thought on’t, Josiah Allen.” + +“Wall, I don’t shet up our sugar lot, do I? and I have never heerd you +say one word a praisin’ me up for that.” + +“That is far different, Josiah Allen,” sez I, “there is nothin’ there +that can git hurt, only stumps. And you have never laid out a cent of +money on it. And they have spent thousands and thousands of dollars; +and the poorest little child in Saratoga, if it has beauty-lovin’ eyes, +can go in and enjoy these places jest as much as the owners can. And it +is a sweet thought to me, Josiah Allen.” + +“Oh wall,” sez he, “you have probable said enough about it.” + +Now I never care for the last word, some wimmen do, but I never do. But +still I wuzn’t goih’ to be shet right eff from talkin’ about these +places, and I intimated as much to him, and he said, “Dumb it all! I +could talk about ’em all day, if I wanted to, and about Demorist’s +Woods too.” + +“Wall,” sez I, “that is another place, Josiah Allen, that is a likely +well-meanin’ spot. Middlin’ curius to look at,” sez I, reesonably. “It +makes one’s head feel sort a strange to see them criss-cross, curius +poles, and floors up in trees, and ladders, and teterin’ boards, and +springs, etc., etc., etc. But it is a well-meanin’ spot, Josiah Allen. +And it highly tickled me to think that the little fresh air children +wuz brung up there by the owner of the woods and the poor little +creeters, out of their dingy dirty homes, and filthy air, wandered +round for one happy day in the green woods, in the fresh air and +sunshine. That wuz a likely thing to do, Josiah Allen, and it raises a +man more in my estimation when he’s doin’ sech things as that, than to +set up in a political high chair, and have a lot of dirty hands +clapped, and beery breaths a cheerin’ him on up the political arena.” + +“Oh wall,” sez Josiah, “the doin’s in them woods is enough to make +anybody a dumb lunatick. The crazyest lookin’ lot of stuff I ever set +eyes on.” + +“Wall, anyway,” sez I, “it is a _good_ crazy, if it is, and a +well-meanin’ one.” + +“Oh, how cross Josiah Allen did look as he heered me say these words. +That man can’t bear to hear me say one word a praisin’ up another man, +and it grows on him. + +But good land! I am a goin’ to speak out my mind as long as my breath +is spared. And I said quite a number of words more about the deep +enjoyment it gin’ me to see these broad, pleasure grounds free for all, +rich and poor, bond and free, hombly and handsome, etc., etc. + +And I spoke about the charitable houses, St. Christiana’s home, and the +Home for Old Female Wimmen, and mentioned the fact in warm tones of how +a good, noble-hearted woman had started that charity in the first on’t. + +And Josiah, while I wuz talkin’ about these wimmen, became meak as a +lamb. They seemed to quiet him. He looked real mollyfied by the time +Ardelia got there, which wuz anon. And then we sot sail for the +Encampment. + +The Encampment is encamped on one end of a big, square, wild-lookin’ +lot right back of one of the biggest tarvens in Saratoga. It is jest as +wild lookin’ and appeerin’ a field as there is in the outskirts of +Loontown or Jonesville. Why Uncle Grant Hozzleton’s stunny pasture +don’t look no more sort a broke up and rural than that duz. I wondered +some why they had it there, and then I thought mebby they kep’ it to +remember Nater by, old Nater herself, that runs a pretty small chance +to be thought on in sech a place as this. + +You know there is so much orniment and gildin’ and art in the landscape +and folks, that mebby they might forget the great mother of us all, +that is, right in the thickest of the crowd they might, but they have +only to take these few steps and they will see Ma Nater with her +every-day dress on, not fixed up a mite. And I s’pose she looks good to +’em. + +I myself think that Mother Nater might smooth herself out a little +there with no hurt to herself or her children. I don’t believe in Mas +goin’ round with their dresses onhooked, and slip-shod, and their hair +all stragglin’ out of their combs. (I say this in metafor. I don’t +spose Ma Nater ever wore a back comb or had hooks and eyes on her gown; +I say it for oritory, and would wish to be took in a oritorius way. + +And I don’t say right out, that the reeson I have named is the one why +they keep that place a lookin’ so like furey, I said, _mebby_. But I +will say this, that it is a wild-lookin’ spot, and hombly. + +Wall, on the upper end on’t, standin’ up on the top of a sort of a +hill, the Indian Encampment is encamped. There is a hull row of little +stores, and there is swings, and public diversions of different kinds, +krokay grounds, etc., etc., etc. + +Wall, Ardelia stopped at one of these stores kep’ by a Injun, not a +West, but a East one, and began to price some wooden bracelets, and try +’em on, and Josiah and me wandered on. + +And anon, we came to a tent with some good verses of Scripter on it; +good solid Bible it wuz; and so I see it wuz a good creeter in there +anyway. And I asked a bystander a standin’ by, Who wuz in there, and +Why, and When? + +And he said it wuz a fortune-teller who would look in the pamm of my +hand, and tell me all my fortune that wuz a passin’ by. And I said I +guessed I would go in, for I would love to know how the children wuz +that mornin’ and whether the baby had got over her cold. I hadn’t heerd +from ’em in over two days. + +Josiah kinder hung ’round outside though he wuz willin’ to have me go +in. He jest worships the children and the baby. And he sees the texts +from Job on it, with his own eyes. + +So I bid him a affectionate farewell, and we see the woman a lookin’ +out of the tent and witnessin’ on’t. But I didn’t care. If a pair of +companions and a pair of grandparents can’t act affectionate, who can? +And the world and the Social Science meetin’ might try in vain to bring +up any reeson why they shouldn’t. + +So I went in, with my mind all took up with the grandchildern. But the +first words she sez to me wuz, as she looked close at the pamm of my +hand, “Keep up good spirits, Mom; you will get him in spite of all +opposition.” + +“Get who?” sez I, “And what?” + +“A man you want to marry. A small baldheaded man, a amiable-lookin’, +slender man. His heart is sot on you. And all the efferts of the +light-complected woman in the blue hat will be in vain to break it up. +Keep up good courage, you will marry him in spite of all,” sez she, +porin’ over my pamm and studyin’ it as if it wuz a jography. + +The Fortuneteller + +“For the land’s sake!” sez I, bein’ fairly stunted with the idees she +promulgated. + +“Yes, you will marry him, and be happy. But you have had a sickness in +the past and your line of happiness has been broken once or twice.” + +Sez I, “I should think as much; let a woman live with a man, the best +man in the world for 20 years, and if her line of happiness haint broke +more than once or twice, why it speaks well for the line, that is all. +It is a good, strong line.” + +“Then you have been married?” says she. + +“Yes, Mom,” sez I. + +“Oh, I see, down in the corner of your hand is a coffin, you are a +widow, you have seen trouble. But you will be happy. The mild, bald +gentleman will make you happy. He will lead you to the altar in spite +of the light-complected woman with the blue bat on.” + +Ardelia Tutt had on a blue hat, the idee! But I let her go on. Thinkses +I, “I have paid my money and now it stands me in hand to get the worth +on’t.” So she comferted me up with the hope of gettin’ my Josiah for +quite a spell. + +Gettin’ my pardner! Gettin’ the father of my childern, and the +grandparent of my grandchildren! Jest think on’t, will you? + +But then she branched off and told me things that wuz truly wonderful. +Where and how she got ’em wuz and is a mistery to me. True things, and +strange. + +Why it seemed same as if them tall pines, that wuz a whisperin’ +together over the Encampment wuz a peerin’ over into my past, and a +whisperin’ it down to her. Or, in some way or other, the truth wuz a +bein’ filtered down to her comprehension through some avenue beyond our +sense or sight. + +It is a curious thing, so I think, and so Josiah thinks. We talked it +over after I came out, and we wuz a wanderin’ on about the Encampment. +I told him some of the wonderful things she had told me and he didn’t +believe it. “For,” sez he, “I’ll be hanged if I can understand and I +won’t believe anything that I can’t understand!” + +And I pointed with the top of my umberel at a weed growin’ by the side +of the road, and sez I, “When you tell me jest how that weed draws out +of the back ground jest the ingredients she needs to make her blue +foretop, and her green gown, then I’ll tell you all about this secret +that Nater holds back from us a spell, but will reveel to us when the +time comes.” + +“Oh shaw!” sez Josiah, “I guess I know all about a jimson weed. Why +they _grow;_ that is all there is about them. They grow, dumb ’em. I +guess if you’d broke your back as many times as I have a pullin’ ’em +up, yon would know all about’ em. Dumb their dumb picters,” sez he, a +scowlin’ at ’em. + +It wuz the same kind of weed that growed in our onion beds. I +re_cog_nized it. Them and white daisies, our garden wuz overrun by ’em +both. + +But I sez, “Can you tell how the little seed of this weed goes down +into the earth and _selects_ jest what she wants out of the great +storehouse below? She never comes out in a pink head-dress or a yellow +gown. No, she always selects what will make the blue. It shows that it +has life, intelligence, or else it couldn’t think, way down under the +ground, and grope in the dark, but always gropin’ jest right, always a +thinkin’ the right thing, never, never in the hundreds and thousands of +years makin’ a mistake. Why, you couldn’t do it, Josiah Allen, nor I +couldn’t. + +“And we set and see these silent mysteries a goin’ on right at our +door-step day by day, and year by year, and think nothin’ of it, +because it is so common. But if anything else, some new law, some new +wonder we don’t understand comes in our way, we are ready to reject it +and say it is a lie. But you know, Josiah Allen,” sez I, jest ready to +go on eloquent - + +But I wuz interrupted jest here by my companion hollerin’ up in a loud +voice to a boy, “Here! you stop that, you young scamp! Don’t you let me +see you a doin’ that agin!” + +Sez I, “What is it, Josiah Allen?” + +“Why look at them young imps, a throwin’ sticks at that feeble old +woman, over there.” + +I looked, and my own heart wuz rousted up with indignation. I stood +where I couldn’t see her face, but I see she wuz old, feeble, and bent, +a withered poor old creeter, and they had marked up over her, her name, +Aunt Sally. + +I too wuz burnin’ indignant to see a lot of young creeters a throwin’ +sticks at her, and I cried out loud, “Do you let Sarah be.” + +They turned round and laughed in our faces, and I went on: “I’d be +ashamed of myself if I wuz in your places to be a throwin’ sticks at +that feeble old woman. Why don’t you spend your strengths a tryin’ to +do sunthin’ for her? Git her a home, and sunthin’ to eat, and a better +dress. Before I’d do what you are a doin’ now, I’d growvel in the dust. +Why, if you wuz my boys I’d give you as good a spankin’ as you ever +had.” + +But they jest laughed at us, the impudent Greeters. And one of the boys +at that minute took up a stick and threw it, and hit Sarah right on her +poor old head. + +Sez Josiah, “Don’t you hit Sarah agin.” + +Aunt Sally + +Sez the boys, “We will,” and two of ’em hit her at one time. And one of +’em knocked the pipe right out of her mouth. She wuz a smokin’, poor +old creeter. I s’pose that wuz all the comfort she took. But did them +little imps care? They knocked her as if they hated the sight of her. +And my Josiah (I wuz proud of that man) jest advanced onto ’em, and +took ’em one in each hand, and gin ’em sech a shakin’, that I most +expected to see their bones drop out, and sez he between each shake, +“Will you let Sarah alone now?” + +I wuz proud of my Josiah, but fearful of the effect of so much +voyalence onto his constitution, and also onto the boys’ frames. And I +advanced onto the seen of carnage and besought him to be calm. Sez he, +“I won’t be calm!” sez he, “I haint the man, Samantha, to stand by and +see one of your sect throwed at, as I have seen Sarah throwed at, +without avengin’ of it.” + +And agin he shook them boys with a vehemence. The pennies and marbles +in their pockets rattled and their bones seemed ready to part asunder. +I wuz proud of that noble man, my pardner. But still I knew that if +their bones was shattered my pardner would be avenged upon by incensed +parents. And I sez, “I’d let ’em go now, Josiah. I don’t believe +they’ll ever harm Sarah agin.” Sez I, “Boys, you won’t, will you ever +strike a poor feeble old woman agin?.” Sez I, “promise me, boys, not to +hurt Sarah.” + +Josiah’s Anger + +I don’t know what the effect of my words would have been, but a man +came up just then and explained to me, that Aunt Sally wuz a image that +they throwed at for one cent apiece to see if they could break her +pipe. + +I see how it wuz, and cooled right down, and so did Josiah. And he gin +the boys five cents apiece, and quiet rained down on the Encampment. + +But I sez to the man, “I don’t like the idee of havin’ my sect throwed +at from day to day, and week to week.” Sez I, “Why didn’t you have a +man fixed up to throw at, why didn’t you have a Uncle Sam?” Sez I, “I +don’t over and above like it; it seems to be a sort of a slight onto my +sect.” + +Sez the man winkin’ kind a sly at Josiah, “It won’t do to make fun of +men, men have the power in their hands and would resent it mebby. Uncle +Sam can’t be used jest like Aunt Sally.” + +Sez I, “That haint the right spirit. There haint nothin’ over and above +noble in that, and manly.” + +I wuz kinder rousted up about it, and so wuz Josiah. And that is I +s’pose the reasun of his bein’ so voyalent, at the next place of +recreation we halted at Josiah see the picture of the mermaid; that +beautiful female, a, settin’ on the rock and combin’ her long golden +hair. And he proposed that we should go in and see it. + +Sez I, “It costs ten cents apiece, Josiah Allen. Think of the cost +before it is too late.” Sez I, “Your expenditure of money today has +been unusial.” Sez I, “The sum of ten cents has jest been raised by you +for noble principles, and I honer you for it. But still the money has +gone.” Sez I, “Do you feel able to incur the entire expense?” + +Sez he, “All my life, Samantha, I have jest hankered after seein’ a +mermaid. Them beautiful creeters, a settin’ and combin’ their long +golden tresses. I feel that I must see it. I fairly long to see one of +them beautiful, lovely bein’s before I die.” + +“Wall,” sez I, “if you feel like that, Josiah Allen, it is not fur from +me to balk you in your search for beauty. I too admire loveliness, +Josiah Allen, and seek after it.” And sez I, “I will faithfully follow +at your side, and together we will bask in the rays of beauty, together +will we be lifted up and inspired by the immortal spirit of +loveliness.” + +So payin’ our 30 cents we advanced up the steps, I expectin’ soon to be +made happy, and Josiah held up by the expectation of soon havin’ his +eyes blest by that vision of enchantin’ beauty, he had so long dremp +of. + +He advanced onto the pen first and before I even glanced down into the +deep where as I s’posed she set on a rock a combin’ out her long golden +hair, a singin’ her lurin’ and enchanted song, to distant mariners she +had known, and to the one who wuz a showin’ of her off, before I had +time to even glance at her, the maid, I was dumbfounded and stood +aghast, at the mighty change that came over my pardner’s linement. + +He towered up in grandeur and in wrath before me. He seemed almost like +a offended male fowl when ravenin’ hawks are angerin’ of it beyond its +strength to endure. I don’t like that metafor; I don’t love to compare +my pardner to any fowl, wild or tame; but my frenzied haste to describe +the fearful seen must be my excuse, and also my agitation in recallin’ +of it. + +He towered up, he fluttered so to speak majestically, and he says in +loud wild axents that must have struck terror to the soul of that +mariner, “Where is the hair-comb?” + +And then he shook his fist in the face of that mariner, and cries out +once agin, “Where is them long golden tresses? Bring ’em on this +instant! Fetch on that hair-comb, in a minute’s time, or I’ll prosecute +you, and sue you, and take the law to you - !” + +The mariner quailed before him and sez I, “My dear pardner, be calm! Be +calm!” + +“I won’t be calm!” + +Sez I mildly, but firmly, “You must, Josiah Allen; you must! or you +will break open your own chest. You must be calm.” + +“And I tell you I won’t be calm. And I tell you,” says he, a turnin’ to +that destracted mariner agin “I tell you to bring on that comb and that +long hair, this instant. Do you s’pose I’m goin’ to pay out my money to +see that rack-a-bone that I wouldn’t have a layin’ out in my barn-yard +for fear of scerin’ the dumb scere-crows out in the lot. Do you s’pose +I’m goin’ to pay out my money for seein’ that dried-up mummy of the +hombliest thing ever made on earth, the dumbdest, hombliest; with 2 or +3 horse hairs pasted onto its yellow old shell! Do you spose I’m goin’ +to be cheated by seein’ that, into thinkin’ it is a beautiful creeter a +playin’ and combin’ her hair? Bring on that beautiful creeter a combin’ +out her long, golden hair this instant, and bring out the comb and I’ll +give you five minutes to do it in.” + +He wuz hoorse with emotion, and he wuz pale round his lips as anything +and leis eyes under his forward looked glassy. I wuz fearful of the +result. + +Thinkses I, I will look and see what has wrecked my pardner’s happiness +and almost reasen. I looked in and I see plain that his agitation was +nothin’ to be wondered at. It did truly seem to be the hombliest, +frightfulest lookin’ little thing that wuz ever made by a benignant +Providence or a taxy-dermis. I couldn’t tell which made it. I see it +all, but I see also, so firm, sot is my reasun onto its high throne on +my heart, I see that to preserve my pardner’s sanity, I must control my +reasun at the sight that had tottered my pardner’s. + +I turned to him, and tried to calm the seethin’ waters, but he loudly +called for the comb, and for the tresses, and the lookin’ glass. And, +askin’ in a wild’ sarcastic way where the song wuz that she sung to +mariners? And hollerin’ for him to bring on that rock at that minute, +and them mariners, and ordered him to set her to singin’. + +The idee! of that little skeletin with her skinny lips drawed back from +her shinin’ fish teeth, a singin’. The idee on’t! + +But truly, he wuz destracted and knew not what he did. The mariner in +charge looked destracted. And the bystanders a standin’ by wuz amazed, +and horrowfied by the spectacle of his actin’ and behavin’. And I knew +not how I should termonate the seen, and withdraw him away from where +he wuz. + +But in my destraction and agony of sole, I bethought me of one meens of +quietin’ him and as it were terrifyin’ him into silence and be the +meens of gettin’ on him to leave the seen. I begoned to Ardelia to come +forward and I sez in a whisper to her, “Take out your pencil and a +piece of paper and stand up in front of him and go to writin’ some of +your poetry,” + +And then I sez agin in tender agents, “Be calm, Josiah.” + +“And I tell you that I won’t be calm! And I tell you,” a shakin’ his +fist at that pale mariner, “I tell you to bring out—“ + +At that very minute he turned his eyes onto Ardelia, who stood with a +kind of a fur-away look in her eyes in front of him with the paper in +her hand, and sez he to me, “What is she doin’?” + +“She is composin’ some poetry onto you, Josiah Allen,” sez I, in +tremblin’ axents; for I felt that if that skeme failed, I wuz undone, +for I knew I had no ingredients there to get him a extra good meal. No, +I felt that my tried and true weepon wuz fur away, and this wuz my last +hope. + +But as I thought these thoughts with almost a heatlightnin’ rapidety, I +see a change in his liniment. It did not look so thick and dark; it +began to look more natural and clear. + +And sez he in the same old way I have heerd him say it so many times, +“Dumb it all! What duz she want to write poetry on me for? It is time +to go home.” And so sayin’, he almost tore us from the seen. + +I gin Ardelia that night 2 yards of lute-string ribbon, a light pink, +and didn’t begrech it. But I have never dast, not in his most placid +and serene moments - I have never dast, to say the word “Mermaid’ to +him. + +Truly there is something that the boldest female pardner dassent do. +Mermaids is one of the things I don’ dast to bring up. No! no, fur be +it from me to say “Mermaid” to Josiah Allen. + +On the Porch + + + + +Chapter XII. +A DRIVE TO SARATOGA LAKE. + + +Josiah and me took a short drive this afternoon, he hirin’ a buggy for +the occasion. He called it “goin’ in his own conveniance,” and I didn’t +say nothin’ aginst his callin’ it so. I didn’t break it up for this +reasun, thinkses I it is a conveniance for us to ride in it, for us 2 +tried and true souls to get off for a minute by ourselves. + +Wall, Josiah wuz dretful good behaved this afternoon. He helped me in a +good deal politer than usual and tucked the bright lap-robe almost +tenderly round my form. + +Men do have sech spells. They are dretful good actin’ at times. Why +they act better and more subdueder and mellerer at sometimes than at +others, is a deep subject which we mortals cannot as yet fully +understand. Also visey versey, their cross, up headeder times, over +bearin’ and actin’. It is a deep subject and one freighted with a great +deal of freight. + +But Josiah’s goodness on this afternoon almost reached the Scripteral +and he sez, when we first sot out, and I see that the horse’s head wuz +turned towards the Lake. Sez he, “I guess we’ll go to the Lake, but +where do you want to go, Samantha? I will go anywhere you want to go.” + +And he still drove almost recklessly on lakewards. And sez he, “We had +better go straight on, but say the word, and you can go jest where you +want to.” And he urged the horse on to still greater speed. And he sez +agin, “Do you want to go any particular place, Samantha?” + +“Yes,” sez I, “I had jest as leves go there as not.” + +“Wall, I knew there would be where you would want to go.” And he drove +on at a good jog. But no better jog than we had been a goin’ on. + +Wall the weather wuz delightful. It wuz soft and balmy. And my feelin’s +towered my pardner (owin’ to his linement) wuz soft and balmy as the +air. And so we moved onwards, past the home of one who wuz true to his +country, when all round him wuz false, who governed his state wisely +and well, held the lines firm, when she wuz balky, and would have been +glad to take the lines in her teeth and run away onto ruin; past the +big grand house of him who carried a piece of our American justice way +off into Egypt and carried it firm and square too right there in the +dark. I s’pose it is dark. I have always hearn about its bein’ as dark +as Egypt. Wall, anyway he is a good lookin’ man. They both on ’em are +and Josiah admitted it - after some words. + +Wall anon, or perhaps a little after, we came to where we could see the +face of Beautiful Saratoga Lake, layin’ a smilin’ up into the skies. A +little white cloud wuz a restin’ up on the top of the tree-covered +mountain that riz up on one side of the lake, and I felt that it might +be the shadow form of the sacred dove Saderrosseros a broodin’ down +over the waters she loved. + +That she loved still, though another race wuz a bathin’ their weary +forwards in the tide. And I wondered as I looked down on it, whether +the great heart of the water wuz constant; if it ever heaved up into +deep sithes a thinkin’ of the one who had passed away, of them who once +rested lightly on her bosem, bathed their dark forwards and read the +meanin’ of the heavens, in the moon and stars reflected there. + +I don’t know as she remembered ’em, and Josiah don’t. But I know as we +stood there, a lookin’ down on her, the lake seemed to give a sort of a +sithe and a shiver kind a run over her, not a cold shiver exactly, but +a sort of a shinin’, glorified shiver. I see it a comin’ from way out +on the lake and it swept and sort a shivered on clean to the shore and +melted away there at our feet. Mebby it wuz a sort o’ sithe, and mebby +agin it wuzn’t. + +I guess it felt that it wuz all right, that a fairer race had brought +fairer customs and habits of thoughts, and the change wuz not a bad +one. I guess she looked forward to the time when a still grander race +should look down into her shinin’ face, a race of free men, and free +wimmen; sons and daughters of God, who should hold their birthright so +grandly and nobly that they will look back upon the people of to-day, +as we look back upon the dark sons and daughters of the forest, in pity +and dolor. + +I guess she thought it wuz all right. Any way she acted as if she did. +She looked real sort o’ serene and calm as we left her, and sort o’ +prophetic too, and glowin’. + +Wall, we went by a long first rate lookin’ sort of a tarven, I guess. +It wuz a kind of a dark red color, and dretfully flowered off in wood - +red wood. And there we see standin’ near the house, a great big round +sort of a buildin’, and my Josiah sez, + +“There! that is a buildin’ I like the looks on. That is a barn I like; +built perfectly round. That is sunthin’ uneek. I’ll have a barn like +that if I live. I fairly love that barn.” And he stopped the horse stun +still to look at it. + +And I sez in sort o’ cool tones, not entirely cold, but coolish: “What +under the sun do you want with a round barn? And you don’t need another +one.” + +“Wall, I don’t exactly need it, Samantha, but it would be a comfert to +me to own one. I should dearly love a round barn.” + +And he went on pensively, - “I wonder how much it would cost. I +wouldn’t have it quite so big as this is. I’d have it for a horse barn, +Samantha. It would look so fashionable, and genteel. Think what it +would be, Samantha, to keep our old mair in a round barn, why the mair +would renew her age.” + +A Round Barn + +“She wouldn’t pay no attention to it,” sez I. “She knows too much.” And +I added in cooler, more dignifieder tones, but dretful meanin’ ones, +“The old mair, Josiah Allen, don’t run after every new fancy she hears +on. She don’t try to be fashionable, and she haint high-headed, +except,” sez I, reasenably, “when you check her up too much.” + +“Wall,” sez he, “I am bound to make some enquiries. Hello!” says he to +a bystander a comin’ by. “Have you any idee what such a barn as that +would cost? A little smaller one, I don’t need so big a one. How many +feet of lumber do you s’pose it would take for it? I ask you,” sez he, +“as between man and man.” + +I nudged him there, for as I have said, I didn’t believe then, and I +don’t believe now, that he or any other man ever knew or mistrusted +what they meant by that term “as between man and man.” I think it +sounds kind o’ flat, and I always oppose Josiah’s usin’ it; he loves +it. + +Wall, the man broke out a’ laughin’ and sez he, “That haint a barn, +that is a tree.” + +“A tree!” sez I, a sort o’ cranin’ my neck forward in deep amaze. And +what exclamation Josiah Allen made, I will not be coaxed into +revealin’; no, it is better not. + +But suffice it to say that after a long explanation my companion at +last gin in that the man wuz a tellin’ the truth, and it wuz the lower +part of a tree-trunk, that growed once near the Yo Semity valley of +California. Good land! good land! + +Josiah drove on quick after the man explained it, he felt meachin’, but +I didn’t notice his linement so much, I wuz so deep in thought, and a +wonderin’ about it; a wonderin’ how the old tree felt with her feet a +restin’ here on strange soil - her withered, dry old feet a standin’ +here, as if jest ready to walk away restless like and feverish, a +wantin’ to get back by the rushin’ river that used to bathe them feet +in the spring overflow of the pure cold mountain water. It seemed to me +she felt she was a alien, as if she missed her strong sturdy grand old +body, her lofty head that used to peer up over the mountains, and as if +some day she wuz a goin’ to set off a walkin’ back, a tryin’ to find +’em. + +I thought of how it had towered up, how the sun had kissed its +branches, how the birds had sung and built their nests against her +green heart, hovered in her great, outstretched arms. The birds of a +century, the birds of a thousand years. How the storms had beat upon +her; the first autumn rains of a thousand years, the first snow-flakes +that had wavered down in a slantin’ line and touched the tips of her +outstretched fingers, and then had drifted about her till her heart wuz +almost frozen and she would clap her cold hands together to warm ’em, +and wail out a dretful moanin’ sound of desolation, and pain. + +But the first warm rain drops of Spring would come, the sunshine warmed +her, she swung out her grand arms in triumph agin, and joined the +majestic psalm of victory and rejoicing with all her grand sisterhood +of psalmists. The stars looked down on her, the sun lit her lofty +forward, the suns and stars of a thousand years. Strange animals, that +mebby we don’t know anything about now, roamed about her feet, birds of +a different plumage and song sung to her (mebby). + +Strange faces of men and women looked up to her. What faces had looked +up to her in sorrow and in joy? I’d gin a good deal to know. I’d have +loved to see them strange faces touched with strange pains and hopes. +Tribulations and joys of a thousand years ago. What sort of +tribulations wuz they, and what sort of joys? Sunthin’ human, sunthin’ +that we hold in common, no doubt. The same pain that pained Eve as she +walked down out of Eden, the same joy that Adam enjoyed while they and +the garden wuz prosperus, wuz in their faces most probable whether +their forwards wuz pinted or broad, their faces black, copper colored +or white. + +And the changes, the changes of a thousand years, all these the old +tree had seen, and I respected her dry dusty old feet and wuz sorry for +’em. And I reveryed on the subject more’n half the way home, and +couldn’t help it. Anyway my revery lasted till jest before we got to +the big gate of the Race Course. + +And right there, right in front of them big ornamental doors, we see +Miss G. Washington Flamm, with about a thousand other carriages and +wagons and Tally ho’s and etcetry, and etcetry. Josiah thinks there wuz +a million teams, but I don’t. I am mejum; there wuzn’t probable over a +thousand right there in the road. + +Race Course Entry + +Miss Flamm re_cog_nized us and asked us if we didn’t want to go in. +Wall, Josiah wuz agreeable to the idee and said so. And then she said +sunthin’ to the man that tended to the gate, probably sunthin’ in our +praise, and handed him sunthin’, it might have been a ten cent piece, +for all I know. + +But anyway he wuz dretful polite to us, and let us through. And my +land! if it wuzn’t a sight to behold! Of all the big roomy places I +ever see all filled with vehicles of all shapes and sizes and folks on +foot and big high platforms, all filled with men and wimmen and +children! And Josiah sez to me, “I thought the hull dumb world wuz +there outside in the road, and here there is ten times as many in +here.” + +And I sez, “Yes, Josiah, be careful and not lose me, for I feel like a +needle in a hay mow.” + +He looked down on me and sort a smiled. I s’pose it wuz because I +compared myself to a needle, and he sez, “A cambric needle, or a +darnin’ needle?” + +And I sez, “I wouldn’t laugh in such a time as this, Josiah Allen.” Sez +I, “Do jest look over there on the race course.” + +And it wuz a thrillin’ seen. It wuz a place big enough for all the +horses of our land to run ’round in and from Phario’s horses down to +them of the present time. And beautiful broad smooth roads cut in the +green velvet of the grass, and horses goin’ ’round jest like lightnin’, +with little light buggys hitched to ’em, some like the quiver on sheet +lightnin’ (only different shape) and men a drivin’ ’em. + +And then there wuz a broad beautiful race course with little clusters +of trees and bushes, every little while right in the road, and if +you’ll believe it, I don’t s’pose you will, but it is the livin’ truth, +when them horses, goin’ jest like a flash of light, with little boys +all dressed in gay colors a ridin’ ’em—when them horses came to them +trees instid of goin’ ’round ’em, or pushin’ in between ’em, or goin’ +back agin, they jumped right over ’em. I don’t spose this will be +believed by lots of folks in Jonesville and Loontown, but it is the +truth, for I see it with both my eyes. Josiah riz right up in the buggy +and cheered jest as the rest of ’em did, entirely unbeknown to himself, +so he said, to see it a goin’ on. + +Why he got nearly rampant with excitement. And so did I, though I +wouldn’t want it known by Tirzah Ann’s husband’s folks and others in +Jonesville. They call it “steeple chasin’” so if they should hear on’t, +it wouldn’t sound so very wicked any way. I should probable tell ’em if +they said _too_ much, “That it wuz a pity if folks couldn’t get +interested in a steeple and chase it up.” But between you and me I +didn’t see no sign of a steeple, nor meetin’ house nor nuthin’. I +s’pose they gin it that name to make it seem more righter to +perfessors. I know it wuz a great comfort to me. (But I don’t think +they chased a steeple, and Josiah don’t, for we think we should have +seen it if they had.) + +Wall, as I say, we wuz both dretfully interested, excited, and wrought +up, I s’pose I ort to say, when a chap accosted me and says to me +sunthin’ about buyin’ a pool. And I shook my head and sez, “No, I don’t +want to buy no pool.” + +But he kep’ on a talkin’ and a urgin’, and sez, “Won’t you buy a French +pool, mom, you can make lots of money out of it.” + +“A pool,” sez I in dignified axents, and some stern, for I wuz weary +with his importunities. “What do I want a pool for? Don’t you s’pose +there’s any pools in Jonesville, and I never thought nothin’ on ’em, I +always preferred runnin’ water. But if I wuz a goin’ to buy one, what +under the sun do you s’pose I would buy one way off here for, hundreds +of miles from Jonesville?” + +“I might possibly,” sez I, not wantin’ to hurt his feelin’s and tryin’ +to think of some use I could put it tot “ _might_ if you had a good +small American pool, that wuz a sellin’ cheap; and I could have it set +right in our back yard, clost to the horse barn, why I might possibly +try to make a dicker with you for it. I might use it for raisin’ ducks +and geese, though I’d rather have a runnin’ stream then. But how under +the sun you think I could take a pool home on a tower, how I could pack +it, or transport it, or drive it home is a mystery to me.” + +Again he sez mechinecally, “Lots of wimmen do get ’em.” + +“Wall, some wimmen,” sez I mildly, for I see he wuz a lookin’ at me +perfect dumbfoundered. I see I wuz fairly stuntin’ him with my +eloquence. “Some wimmen will buy anything if it has a French name to +it. But I prefer my own country, land or water. And some wimmen,” sez +I, “will buy anything if they can get it cheap, things they don’t need, +and would be better off without, from a eliphant down to a magnificent +nothin’ to call husband. They’ll buy any worthless and troublesome +thing jest to get ’em to goin’. Now such wimmen would jest jump at that +pool. But that haint my way. No, I don’t want to purchase your pool.” + +Sez he, “You are mistaken, mom!” + +“No I haint,” sez I firmly and with decesion. “No I haint. I don’t need +no pool. It wouldn’t do me no good to keep it on my hands, and I haint +no notion of settin’ up in the pool or pond business, at my age.” + +“And then,” sez I reasonably, “the canal runs jest down below our +orchard, and if we run short, we could get all the water we wanted from +there. And we have got two good cisterns and a well on the place.” + +Sez he, “What I mean is, bettin’ on a horse. Do you want to bet on +which horse will go the fastest, the black one or the bay one?” + +“No,” sez I, “I don’t want to bet.” + +But he kep’ on a urgin’ me, and thinkin’ I had disappinted him in +sellin’ a pool, or rather pond, I thought it wouldn’t hurt me to kinder +gin in to him in this, so I sez mildly, “Bettin’ is sunthin’ I don’t +believe in, but seein’ I have disappinted you in sellin’ your water +power, I don’t know as it would be wicked to humor you in this and say +it to please you. You say the bay horse is the best, so I’ll say for +jest this once - There! I’ll bet the bay one will go the best.” + +“Where is your money?” sez he. “It is five dollars for a bet. You pay +five dollars and you have a chance to get back mebby 100.” + +I riz right up in feerful dignity, and the buggy and I sez that one +feerful word to him, “Gamblin’!” He sort a quailed. But sez he, “you +had better take a five-dollar chance on the bay horse.” + +Feerful Dignity + +“No,” sez I, with a freezin’ coldness, that must have made his ears +fairly tingle it wuz so cold, “no I shall not gamble, neither on foot +nor on horseback.” + +Then I sot down and I sez in the same lofty tones to Josiah Allen, +“Drive on, Josiah, instantly and to once.” + +He too had heerd the fearful word and his princeples too wuz rousted +up. He driv right on rapidly, out of the gate and into the highway. But +as he druv on fast and almost furius I heerd him murmur words to +himself, that accounted for his eager looks while the man wuz dickerin’ +about the pool. He sez, “It is dumb hard work pumpin’ water for so many +head of cattle.” He thought a pool would come handy, so I see. But it +wuz all done and I would have done the same thing if it was to do over +agin, so I didn’t say nuthin’, but kep’ a serene silence, and let him +drive along in quiet; and anon, I see the turbelence of his feelin’s +subsided in a measure. + +It wuz a gettin’ along towards sundown and the air wuz a growin’ cool +and balmy, as if it wuz a blowin’ over some balm flowers, and we begun +to feel quite well in our minds, though the crowd in the road wuz too +big for comfert. The crowd of carriages and horses, and vehicles of all +kinds, seemed to go in two big full rows or streams, one a goin’ down +on one side of the road, and the other a goin’ up on the other. So the +2 tides swept past each other constantly—but the bubbles on the tide +wuzn’t foam but feathers, and bows, and laces, and parasols, and +buttons, and diamonds, and etcetry, etcetry, etcetry. + +And all of a sudden my Josiah jest turned into a big gate that wuz a +standin’ wide open and we drove into a beautiful quiet road that went a +windin’ in under the shadows of the tall grand old trees. He did it +without askin’ my advice or sayin’ a word to me. But I wuzn’t sorry. +Fur it wuz beautiful in there. It seemed as if we had left small cares +and vexations and worryments out there in the road and dust, and took +in with us only repose and calmness, and peace, and they wuz a +journeyin’ along with us on the smooth road under the great trees, a +bendin’ down on each side on us. And pretty soon we came to a beautiful +piece of water crossed by a rustick bridge, and all surrounded by green +trees on every side. Then up on the broad road agin, sweepin’ round a +curve where we could see a little ways off a great mansion with a wall +built high round it as if to shet in the repose and sweet home-life and +shet out intrusion, sort a protect it from the too curius glances of a +curius generation. Some as I hold my hand up before my face to keep off +the too-scorchin’ rays of the sun, when I am a lookin’ down the western +road for my Josiah. + +It wuz a good lookin’ spot as I ever want to see, sheltered, quiet and +lovely. But we left it behind us as we rode onwards, till we came out +along another broad piece of the water, and we rode along by the side +of it for some time. + +Beautiful water with the trees growin’ up on every side of it, and +their shadows reflected so clearly in the shinin’ surface, that they +seemed to be trees a growin’ downwards, tall grand trees, wavin’ +branches, goin’ down into the water and livin’ agin in another world,—a +more beautiful one. + +The sun wuz a gettin’ low and piles of clouds wuz in the west and all +their light wuz reflected in the calm water. And the beautiful soft +shadows rested there on that rosy and golden light, some like the +shadow of a beautiful and sorrowful memory, a restin’ down and reposin’ +on a divine hope, an infinite sweetness. + +The Race Course + + + + +Chapter XIII. +VISITS TO NOTABLE PLACES. + + +It is a perfect sight to behold, to set on the piazzas at Saratoga, and +see the folks a goin’ past. + +Now in Jonesville, when there wuz a 4th of July, or campmeetin’, or +sunthin’ of that kind a goin’ on, why, I thought I had seen the streets +pretty full. Why, I had counted as many as seven teams in the road at +one time, and I had thought that wuz pretty lively times. But good +land? Good land! You would have gin up in ten minutes time here, that +you had never seen a team (as it were). + +Why I call my head a pretty sound one, but I declare, it did fairly +make my head swim to set there kinder late in the afternoon, and see +the drivin’ a goin’ on. See the carriages a goin’ this way, and a goin’ +that way; horses of all colers, and men and wimmen of all colers, and +parasols of all colers, and hats, and bonnets and parasols, and satins, +and laces, and ribbins, and buttons, and dogs, and flowers, and plumes, +and parasols. And horses a turnin’ out to go by, and horses havin’ gone +by, and horses that hadn’t gone by. And big carriages with folks inside +all dressed up in every coler of the rain beaux. And elligent gentlemen +dressed perfectly splendid, a settin’ up straight behind. With thin +yellow legs, or stripes down the side on ’em, and their hats all +trimmed off with ornaments and buttons up and down their backs. + +Haughty creeters they wuz, I make no doubt. They showed it in their +looks. But I never loved so much dress in a man. And I would jest as +soon have told them so; as to tell you. I hain’t one to say things to a +man’s back that I won’t say to his face, whether it be a plain back or +buttoned. + +Wall, as I say, it wuz a dizzy sight to set there on them piazzas and +see the seemin’ly endless crowd a goin’ by; back and forth, back and +forth; to and fro, to and fro. I didn’t enjoy it so much as some did, +though for a few minutes at a time I looked upon it as a sort of a +recreation, some like a circus, only more wilder. + +But some folks enjoyed it dretfully. Yes, they set a great deal on +piazzas at Saratoga. And when I say set on ’em, I mean they set a great +store on ’em, and they set on ’em a great deal. Some folks set on ’em +so much, that I called them setters. Real likely creeters they are too, +some on ’em, and handsome; some pious, sober ones, some sort a gay. +Some not married at all, and some married a good deal, and when I say a +good deal I meen, they have had various companions and lost ’em. + +Now there wuz one woman that I liked quite well. + +She had had 4 husbands countin’ in the present one. She wuz a good +lookin’ woman and had seen trouble. It stands to reeson she had with 4 +husbands. Good land! + +She showed me one day a ring she wore. She had took the weddin’ rings +of her 4 pardners and had ’em all run together, and the initials of +their first names carved inside on it. Her first husband’s name wuz +Franklin, her next two wuz Orville and Obed, and her last and livin’ +one Lyman. Wall, she meant well, but she never see what would be the +end on’t and how it would read till she had got their initials all +carved out on it. + +She wuz dretfully worked up about it, but I see that it wuz right. For +nobody but a fool would want to run all these recollections and +memories together, all the different essociations and emotions, that +must cluster round each of them rings. The idee of runnin’ ’em all +together with the livin’ one! It wuz ectin’ like a fool and it seemed +fairly providential that their names run in jest that way. + +Why, if I had had 2 husbands, or even 4, I should want to keep ’em +apart - settin’ up in high chairs on different sides of my heart. Why, +if I’d had 4, I’d have ’em to the different pints of the compass, east, +west, north, south, as far apart from each other as my heart would +admit of. Ketch me a lumpin’ in all the precious memories of my Josiah +with them of any other man, bond or free, Jew or Genteel; no, and I’d +refrain from tellin’ to the new one about the other ones. + +No, when a pardner dies and you set out to take another one, bury the +one that has gone right under his own high chair in your heart, don’t +keep him up there a rattlin’ his bones before the eyes of the 2d, and +angerin’ him, and agonizen’ your own heart. Bury him before you bring a +new one into the same room. + +And never! never! even in moments of the greatest anger, dig him up +agin or even weep over his grave, before the new pardner. No; under the +moonlight, and the stars, before God only, and your own soul, you may +lay there in spirit on that grave, weep over it, keep the turf green. +But not before any one else. And I wouldn’t advise you to go there +alone any too often. I would advise you to spend your spare time +ornementin’ the high chair where the new one sets, wreathin’ it round +with whatever blossoms and trailin’ vines of tenderness and romance you +have left over from the first great romance of life. + +It would be better for you in the end. + +I said some few of these little thoughts to the female mentioned; and I +s’pose I impressed her dretfully, I s’pose I did. But I couldn’t stay +to see the full effects on’t, for another female setter came up at that +minute to talk with her, and my companion came up at that very minute +to ask me to go a walkin’ with him up to the cemetery. + +That is a very favorite place for Josiah Allen. He often used to tell +the children when they wuz little, that if they wuz real good he would +take ’em out on a walk to the grave-yard. + +And when I first married to him, if I hadn’t broke it up, that would +have been the only place of resort that he would have took me to +Summers. But I broke it up after a while. Good land! there is times to +go any where and times to stay away. I didn’t want to go a trailin’ up +there every day or two; jest married too! + +But to-day I felt willin’ to go. I had been a lookin’ so long at the +crowd a fillin’ the streets full, and every one on ’em in motion, that +I thought it would be sort a restful to go out to a place where they +wuz still. And so after a short walk we came to the village that haint +stirred by any commotion or alarm. Where the houses are roofed with +green grass and daisies, and the white stun doors don’t open to let in +trouble or joy, and where the inhabitants don’t ride out in the +afternoon. + +Wall, if I should tell the truth which I am fur from not wantin’ to do, +I should say that at first sight, it wuz rather of a bleak, lonesome +lookin’ spot, kinder wild and desolate lookin’. But as we went further +along in it, we came to some little nooks and sheltered paths and +spots, that seemed more collected together and pleasant. There wuz some +big high stuns and monuments, and some little ones but not one so low +that it hadn’t cast a high, dark shadow over somebody’s life. + +There wuz one in the shape of a big see shell. I s’pose some mariner +lay under that, who loved the sea. Or mebby it wuz put up by some one +who had the odd fancy that put a shell to your ear you will hear a +whisperin’ in it of a land fur away, fur away. Not fur from this wuz a +stun put up over a young engineer who had been killed instantly by his +engine. There wuz a picture of the locomotive scraped out on the stun, +and in the cab of the engine wuz his photograph, and these lines wuz +underneath: + +My engine now lies still and cold, +No water does her boiler hold; +The wood supplies its flames no more, +My days of usefulness are o’er. + + +We wended our way in and out of the silent streets for quite a spell, +and then we went and sot down on the broad piazza of the sort of chapel +and green-house that stood not fur from the entrance. And while we sot +there we see another inhabitent come there to the village to stay. + +It wuz a long procession, fur it wuz a good man who had come. And many +of his friends come with him jest as fur as they could: wife, children, +and friends, they come with him jest as fur as they could, and then he +had to leave ’em and go on alone. How weak love is, and how strong. It +wuz too weak to hold him back, or go with him, though they would fain +have done so. But it wuz strong enough to shadow the hull world with +its blackness, blot out the sun and the stars, and scale the very +mounts of heaven with its wild complaints and pleadin’s. A strange +thing love is, haint it? + +Wall, we sot there for quite a spell and my companion wantin’, I spose, +to make me happy, took out a daily paper out of his pocket and went to +readin’ the deaths to me. He always loves to read the deaths and +marriages in a paper. He sez that is the literature that interests him. +And then I s’pose he thought at such a time, it wuz highly appropriate. +So I didn’t break it up till he began to read a long obituary piece +about a child’s death; about its being cut down like a flower by a +lightin’ stroke out of a cloudless sky, and about what a mysterious +dispensation of Providence it wuz, etc., etc. And then there wuz a hull +string of poetry dedicated to the heart-broken mother bewailin’ the +mystery on’t, and wonderin’ why Providence should do such strange, +onlookedfor things, etc., and etcetery, and so 4th. + +And I spoke right up and sez, “That is a slander onto Providence and +ort to be took as such by every lover of justice.” + +Josiah wuz real horrified, he had been almost sheddin’ tears he wuz so +affected by it; to think the little creeter should be torn away by a +strange chance of Providence from a mother who worshipped her, and +whose whole life and every thought wuz jest wrapped up in the child, +and who never had thought nor cared for anything else only just the +well bein’ of the child and wardin’ trouble off of her, for so the +piece stated. And he sez in wild amaze, “What do you mean, Samantha? +What makes you talk so?” + +“Because,” sez I, “I know it is the truth. I know the hull story;” and +then I went on and told it to him, and he agreed with me and felt jest +as I did. + +You see, the mother of the child wuz a perfect high flyer of fashion +and she always wore dresses so tight, that she couldn’t get her hands +up to her head to save her life, after her corset wuz on. Wall, she wuz +out a walkin’ with the child one day, or rather toddlin’ along with it, +on her high-heeled sboes. They wuz both dressed up perfectly beautiful, +and made a most splendid show. Wall, they went into a store on their +way to the park, and there wuz a big crowd there, and the mother and +the little girl got into the very middle of the crowd. They say there +wuz some new storks for sale that day, and some cattail flags, and so +there wuz naturelly a big crowd of wimmen a buyin’ ’em, and cranes. And +some way, while they stood there a heavy vase that stood up over the +child’s head fell down and fell onto it, and hurt the child so, that it +died from the effects of it. + +The mother see the vase when it flrst begun to move, she could have +reached up her hands and stiddied it, and kep’ it from fallin’, if she +could have got ’em up, but with that corset on, the hull American +continent might have tumbled onto the child’s head and she couldn’t +have moved her arms up to keep it off; couldn’t have lifted her arms up +over the child’s head to save her life. No, she couldn’t have kep’ one +of the States off, nor nothin’. And then talk about her wardin’ trouble +offen the child, why she _couldn’t_ ward trouble off, nor nothin’ else +with that corset on. She screemed, as she see it a comin’ down onto the +head of her beloved little child, but that wuz all she could do. The +child wuz wedged in by the throng of folks and couldn’t stir, and they +wuz all engrossed in their own business which wuz pressin’, and very +important, a buyin’ plates, and plaks, with bull-rushes, and cranes, +and storks on ’em, so naturelly, they didn’t mind what wuz a goin’ on +round ’em. And down it come! + +And there it wuz put down in the paper, “A mysterious dispensation of +Providence.” Providence slandered shamefully and I will say so with my +last breath. + +What are mothers made for if it haint to take care of the little ones +God gives ’em. What right have they to contoggle themselves up in a way +that they can see their children die before ’em, and they not able to +put out a hand to save ’em. Why, a savage mother is better than this, a +heathen one. And if I had my way, there would be a hull shipload of +savages and heathens brought over here to teach and reform our too +civilized wimmen. I’d bring ’em over this very summer. + +Wall, we sot there on the stoop for quite a spell and then we wended +our way down to the highway, and as we arrived there my companion +proposed that we should take a carriage and go to the Toboggen slide. +Sez I, “Not after where we have been today, Josiah Allen.” + +And he sez, “Why not?” + +And I sez, “It wouldn’t look well, after visitin’ the folks we have +jest now.” + +“Wall,” sez he, “they won’t speak on’t to anybody, if that is what you +are afraid on, or sense it themselves.” + +And I see in a minute, he had some sense on his side, though his words +shocked me some at first, kinder jarred aginst some sensitive spot in +my nater, jest as pardners will sometimes, however devoted they may be +to each other. Yet I see he wuz in the right on’t. + +They wouldn’t sense anything about it. And as for us, we wuz in the +world of the livin’ still, and I still owed a livin’ duty to my +companion, to make him as happy as possible. And so I sez, mildly, +“Wall, I don’t know as there is anything wrong in slidin’ down hill, +Josiah. I s’pose I can go with you.” + +“No,” sez he, “there haint nothin’ wrong about slidin’ down hill unless +you strike too hard, or tip over, or sunthin’.” So he bagoned to a +carriage that wuz passin’, and we got into it, and sot sail for the +Toboggen slide. + +We passed through the village. (Some say it is a city, but if it is, it +is a modest, retirin’ one as I ever see; perfectly unassumin’, and +don’t put on a air, not one.) + +But howsumever, we passed through it, through the rows and rows of +summer tarvens and boardin’ houses, good-lookin’ ones too; past some +good-lookin’ private houses—a long tarven and a pretty red brick studio +and rows of summer stores, little nests that are filled up summers, and +empty winters, then by some more of them monster big tarvens where some +of the 200,000 summer visitors who flock here summers, find a restin’ +place; and then by the large respectable good-lookin’ stores and shops +of the natives, that stand solid, and to be depended on summer and +winter; by churches and halls, and etc., and good-lookin’ houses and +then some splendid-lookin’ houses all standin’ back on their grassy +lawns behind some trees, and fountains, and flower beds, etc., etc. + +Better-lookin’ houses, I don’t want to see nor broader, handsomer +streets. And pretty soon fur away to the east you could see through the +trees a glimpse of a glorious landscape, a broad lovely view of hill +and valley, bounded by blue mountain tops. It was a fair seen - a fair +seen. To be perfectly surrounded by beauty where you, wuz, and a +lookin’ off onto more. There I would fain have lingered, but time and +wagons roll stidily onward, and will not brook delay, nor pause for +women to soar over seenery. + +So we rolled onwards through still more beautiful, and quiet pictures. +Pictures of quiet woods and bendin’ trees, and a country road windin’ +tranquilly beneath, up and down gentle hills, and anon a longer one, +and then at our feet stood the white walls of a convent, with 2 or 3 +brothers, a strollin’ along in their long black gowns, and crosses, a +readin’ some books. + +I don’t know what it wuz, what they wuz a readin’ out of their books, +or a readin’ out of their hearts. Mebby sunthin’ kinder sad and serene. +Mebby it wuz sunthin’ about the gay world of human happiness, and human +sorrows, they had turned backs to forever. Mebby it wuz about the other +world that they had sot out for through a lonesome way. Mebby it wuz +“Never” they wuz a readin’ about, and mebby it wuz “Forever.” I don’t +know what it wuz. But we went by ’em, and anon, yes it wuz jest anon, +for it wuz the very minute that I lifted my eyes from the Father’s calm +and rather sad-lookin’ face, that I ketched sight on’t, that I see a +comin’ down from the high hills to the left on us, an immense sort of a +trough, or so it looked, a comin’ right down through the trees, from +the top of the mountain to the, bottom. And then all acrost the fields +as fur, as fur as from our house way over to Miss Pixley’s wuz a sort +of a road, with a row of electric lights along the side on’t. + +We drove up to a buildin’ that stood at the foot of that immense slide, +or so they called it, and a female woman who wuz there told us all +about it. And we went out her back door, and see way up the slide, or +trough. There wuz a railin’ on each side on’t, and a place in the +middle where she said the Toboggen came down. + +And sez Josiah, “Who is the Toboggen, anyway? Is he a native of the +place or a Injun? Anyway,” sez he, “I’d give a dollar bill to see him a +comin’ down that place.” + +And the woman said, “A Toboggen wuz a sort of a long sled, that two or +three folks could ride on, and they come down that slide with such +force that they went way out acrost the fields as far as the row of +lights, before it stopped.” + +Sez I, “Josiah Allen, did you ever see the beat on’t?” Sez I, “Haint +that as far as from our house to Miss Pixley’s?” + +“Yes,” says he, “and further too. It is as far as Uncle Jim +Hozzleton’s.” + +“Wall,” says I, “I believe you are in the right on’t.” + +And sez Josiah, “How do they get back agin? Do they come in the cars, +or in their own conveniences?” + +“There is a sleigh to bring ’em back, but sometime they walk back,” sez +the woman. + +“Walk back!” sez I, in deep amaze. “Do they walk from way out there, +and cleer up that mountain agin?” + +“Yes,” sez she. “Don’t you see the place at the side for ’em to draw +the Toboggen up, and the little flights of steps for ’em to go up the +hill?” + +“Wall,” sez I, in deep amaze, and auxins as ever to get information on +deep subjects, “where duz the fun come in, is it in walkin’ way over +the plain and up the hills, or is it in comin’ down?” + +And she said she didn’t know exactly where the fun lay, but she s’posed +it wuz comin’ down. Anyway, they seemed to enjoy it first rate. And she +said it wuz a pretty sight to see ’em all on a bright clear night, when +the sky wuz blue and full of stars, and the earth white and glistenin’ +underneath to see 7 or 800, all dressed up in to gayest way, suits of +white blankets, gay borders and bright tasseled caps of every color, +and suits of every other pretty color all trimmed with fur and +embroideries, to see ’em all a laughin’ and a talkin’, with their +cheeks and eyes bright and glowin’, to see ’em a comin’ down the slide +like flashes of every colored light, and away out over the white +glistenin’ plains; and then to see the long line of happy laughin’ +creeters a walkin’ back agin’ drawin’ the gay Toboggens. She said it +wuz a sight worth seein’. + +“Do they come down alone?” sez Josiah. + +“Oh no!” sez she. “Boys and their sweethearts, men and wives, fathers +and mothers and children, sometimes 4 on a Toboggan.” + +Sez Josiah, lookin’ anamated and clever, “I’d love to take you on one +on ’em, Samantha.’ + +“Oh no!” sez I, “I wouldn’t want to be took.” + +But a bystander a standin’ by said it wuz a sight to behold to stand up +on top and start off. He said the swiftness of the motion, the +brightness of the electric lights ahead, the gleam of the snow made it +seem like plungin’ down a dazzlin’ Niagara of whiteness and glitterin’ +light; and some, like bein’ shot out of a cannon. Why, he said they +went with such lightnin’ speed, that if you stood clost by the slide a +waitin’ to see a friend go by, you might stand so near as to touch her, +but you couldn’t no more see her to recognize her, than you could +recognize one spoke from another in the wheel of a runaway carriage. +You would jest see a red flash go by, if so be it wuz a red gown she +had on. A red flash a dartin’ through the air, and a disappearin’ down +the long glitterin’ lane of light. + +You could see her a goin’ back, so they said, a laughin’ and a jokin’ +with somebody, if so be she walked back, but there wuz long sleighs to +carry ’em back, them and their Toboggens, if they wanted to ride, at +the small expenditure of 10 cents apiece. They go, in the fastest time +anybody can make till they go on the lightnin’, a way in which they +will go before long, I think, and Josiah duz too. + +“They said there wuzn’t nothin’ like it. And I said, “Like as not.” I +believed ’em. And then the woman said, “This long room we wuz a +standin’ in,” for we had gone back into the house, durin’ our +interview, this long room wuz all warm and light for ’em to come into +and get warm, and she said as many as 600 in a night would come in +there and have supper there. + +And then she showed us the model of a Toboggen, all sculped out, with a +man and a woman on it. The girl wuz ahead sort a drawin’ the Toboggen, +as you may say, and her lover. (I know he wuz, from his looks.) He wuz +behind her, with his face right clost to her shoulder. + +And I’ll bet that when they started down that gleamin’ slide, they felt +as if they 2 wuz alone under the stars and the heavens, and wuz a +glidin’ down into a dazzlin’ way of glory. You could see it in their +faces. I liked their faces real well. + +But the sight on ’em made Josiah Allen crazier’n ever to go too, and he +sez, “I feel as if I _must_ Toboggen, Samantha!” + +Sez I, “Be calm! Josiah, you _can’t_ slide down hill in July.” + +“How do you know?” sez he, “I’m bound to enquire.” And he asked the +woman if they ever Toboggened in the summer. + +“No, never!” sez she. + +And I sez, “You see it can’t be done.” + +“She never see it tried,” sez he. “How can you tell what you can do +without tryin’?” sez he lookin’ shrewdly, and longingly, up the slide. +I trembled, for I knew not what the next move of his would be. But I +bethought me of a powerful weepon I had by me. And I sez, “The driver +will ask pay for every minute we are here.” + +Down the Steps + +And as I sez this, Josiah turned and almost flew down the steps and +into the buggy. I had skairt him. Truly I felt relieved, and sez I to +myself, “What would wimmen do if it wuzn’t for these little weepons +they hold in their hands, to control their pardners with.” I felt +happy. + +But the next words of Josiah knocked down all that palace of Peace, +that my soul had betook herself to. Sez he, “Samantha Allen, before I +leave Saratoga I shall Toboggen.” + +Wall, I immegetly turned the subject round and talked wildly and almost +incoherently on politicks. I praised the tariff amost beyond its +deserts. I brung up our foreign relations, and spoke well on ’em. I +tackled revenues and taxation, and hurried him from one to the other on +’em, almost wildly, to get the idee out of his head. And I +congratulated myself on havin’ succeeded. Alas! how futile is our +hopes, sometimes futiler than we have any idee on! + +By night all thoughts of danger had left me, and I slept sweetly and +peacefully. But early in the mornin’ I had a strange dream. I dreamed I +wuz in the woods with my head a layin’ on a log, and the ground felt +cold that I wuz a layin’ on. And then the log gin way with me, and my +head came down onto the ground. And then I slept peaceful agin, but +chilly, till anon, or about that time, I beard a strange sound and I +waked up with a start. It wuz in the first faint glow of mornin’ +twilight. But as faint as the light wuz, for the eye of love is keen, I +missed my beloved pardner’s head from the opposite pillow, and I riz up +in wild agitation and thinkses I, “Has rapine took place here; has +Josiah Allen been abducted away from me? Is he a kidnapped Josiah?” + +At that fearful thought my heart begun to beat so voyalently as to +almost stop my breath, and I felt I wuz growin’ pale and wan, wanner, +fur wanner than I had been sense I came to Saratoga. I love Josiah +Allen, he is dear to me. + +And I riz up feelin’ that I would find that dear man and rescue him or +perish in the attempt. Yes, I felt that I _must_ perish if I did not +find him. What would life be to me without him? And as I thought that +thought the light of the day that wuz a breakin’, looked sort of a +faint to me, and sickish. And like a flash it came to me, the thought +that that light seemed like the miserable dawns of wretched days +without him, a pale light with no warmth or brightness in it. + +But at that very minute I heard a noise outside the door, and I heard +that beloved voice a sayin’ in low axents the words I had so often +heard him speak, words I had oft rebuked him for, but now, so weak will +human love make one, now, I welcome them gladly—they sounded +exquisitely sweet to me. The words wuz, “Dumb ’em!” + +And I joyfully opened the door. But oh! what a sight met my eye. There +stood Josiah Allen, arrayed in a blanket he had took from our bed (that +accounted for my cold feelin’ in my dream). The blanket wuz white, with +a gay border of red and yellow. He had fixed it onto him in a sort of a +dressy way, and strapped it round the waist with my shawl strap. And he +had took a bright yeller silk handkerchief of hisen, and had wrapped it +round his head so’s it hung down some like a cap, and he wuz a tryin’ +to fasten it round his forward with one of my stockin’ supporters. He +couldn’t buckle it, and that is what called forth his exclamations. At +his feet, partly upon the stairs, wuz the bolster from our bed (that +accounted for the log that had gin way). And he had spread a little red +shawl of mine over the top on’t, and as I opened the door he wuz jest +ready to embark on the bolster, he waz jest a steppin’ onto it. But as +he see me he paused, and I sez in low axents, “What are you a goin’ to +do, Josiah Allen?” + +“I’m a goin’ to Toboggen,” sez he. + +toboggening + +Sez I, “Do you stop at once, and come back into your room.” + +“No, no!” sez he firmly, and preparin’ to embark on the bolster, “I am +a goin’ to Toboggen. And you come and go to. It is so fashionable,” sez +he, “such a genteel diversion.” + +Sez I, “Do you stop it at once, and come back to your room. Why,” sez +I, “the hull house will be routed up, and be up here in a minute.” + +“Wall,” sez he, “they’ll see fun if they do and fashion. I am a goin’, +Samantha!” and be stepped forward. + +Sez I, “They’ll see sunthin’ else that begins with a f, but it haint +fun or fashion.’ And agin I sez, “Do you come back, Josiah Allen. +You’ll break your neck and rout up the house, and be called a fool.” + +“Oh no, Samantha! I must Toboggen. I must go down the slide once.” And +he fixed the bolster more firmly on the top stair. + +“Wall,” sez I, feelin’ that I wuz drove to my last ambush by him, sez +I, “probably five dollars won’t make the expenses good, besides your +doctor’s bill, and my mornin’. And I shall put on the deepest of crape, +Josiah Allen,” sez I. + +I see he wavered and I pressed the charge home. Sez I, “That bolster is +thin cloth, Josiah Allen, and you’ll probably have to pay now for +draggin’ it all over the floor. If anybody should see you with it +there, that bolster would be charged in your bill. And how would it +look to the neighbors to have a bolster charged in your bill? And I +should treasure it, Josiah Allen, as bein’ the last bill you made +before you broke your neck !” + +“Oh, wall,” sez he, “I s’pose I can put the bolster back.” But he wuz +snappish, and he kep’ snappish all day. + +He wuzn’t quelled. Though he had gin in for the time bein’ I see he +wuzn’t quelled down. He acted dissatisfied and highheaded, and I felt +worried in my mind, not knowin’ what his next move would be. + +Oh! the tribulations it makes a woman to take care of a man. But then +it pays. After all, in the deepest of my tribulations I feel, I do the +most of the time feel, that it pays. When he is good he is dretful +good. + +Wall, I went over to see Polly Pixley the next night, and when I got +back to my room, there stood Josiah Allen with both of his feet sort a +bandaged and tied down onto sumthin’, which I didn’t at first +recognize. It waz big and sort a egg shaped, and open worked, and both +his feet wuz strapped down tight onto it, and he wuz a pushin’ himself +round the room with his umberell. + +And I sez, “What is the matter now, Josiah Allen; what are you a doin’ +now?” + +“Oh I am a walkin’ on snow-shoes, Samantha! But I don’t see,” sez he a +stoppin’ to rest, for he seemed tuckered out, “I don’t see how the +savages got round as they did and performed such journeys. You put ’em +on, Samantha,” sez he, “and see if you can get on any faster in ’em.” + +Snowshoes + +Sez I, coldly, “The savages probable did’nt have both feet on one shoe, +Josiah Allen, as you have. I shall put on no snowshoes in the middle of +July; but if I did, I should put ’em on accordin’ to a little mite of +sense. I should try to use as much sense as a savage any way.” + +“Why, how it would look to have one foot on that great big snow-shoe. I +always did like a good close fit in my shoes. And you see I have room +enough and to spare for both on ’em on this. Why it wouldn’t look +dressy at all, Samantha, to put ’em on as you say.” + +Sez I very coldly, “I don’t see anything over and above dressy in your +looks now, Josiah Allen, with both of your feet tied down onto that one +shoe, and you a tryin’ to move off when you can’t. I can’t see anything +over and above ornamental in it, Josiah Allen.” + +“Oh! you are never willin’ to give in that I look dressy, Samantha. But +I s’pose I can put my feet where you say. You are so sot, but they are +too big for me—I shall look like a fool.” + +I looked at him calmly over my specks, and sez I, “I guess I sha’n’t +notice the difference or realize the change. I wonder,” sez I, in +middlin’ cold axents, “how you think you are a lookin’ now, Josiah +Allen.” + +“Oh! keep a naggin’ at me!” sez he. But I see he wuz a gittin’ kinder +sick of the idee. + +“What you mean by puttin’ ’em on at all is more than I can say,” sez I, +“a tryin to walk on snowshoes right in dog-days.” + +“I put ’em on,” Samantha, sez he, a beginnin’ to unstrap ’em, “I put +’em on because I wanted to feel like a savage.” + +“Wall,” sez I, “I have seen you at times durin’ the last 20 years, when +I thought you realized how they felt without snow-shoes on, either.” + +(These little interchanges of confidence will take place in every-day +life.) But at that very minute Ardelia Tutt rapped at the door, and +Josiah hustled them snow-shoes into the closet, and that wuz the last +trial I had with him about ’em. He had borrowed ’em. + +Wall, Ardelia wuz dretful pensive, and soft actin’ that night, she +seemed real tickled to see us, and to get where we wuz. She haint over +and above suited with the boardin’ place where she is, I think. I don’t +believe they have very good food, though she won’t complain, bein’ as +they are relations on her own side. And then she is sech a good little +creeter anyway. But I had my suspicions. She didn’t seem very happy. +She said she had been down to the park that afternoon, she and the +young chap that has been a payin’ her so much attention lately, Bial +Flamburg. She said they had sot down there by the deer park most all +the afternoon a watchin’ the deer. She spoke dretful well of the deer. +And they are likely deer for anything I know. But she seemed sort a +pensive and low spirited. Mebby she is a beginnin’ to find Bial +Flamburg out. Mebby she is a beginnin’ to not like his ways. He drinks +and smokes, that I know, and I’ve mistrusted worse things on him. +Before Ardelia went away, she slipped the followin’ lines into my hand, +which I read after she had left. They wuz rather melancholy and ran as +follows: + +“STANZAS WROTH ON A DEER IN CENTRAL PARK. +“BY ARDELIA TUTT. + +“Oh deer, sweet deer that softly steppeth out +From out thy rustick cot beneath the hill; +We would not meet thee with a wild, wild shout, +But with the low voice, low and sweet, and still +As anything. + +“And in thine ear would whisper thoughts that swell +Our bosom nigh beyond our corset’s bound; +As lo! we see thee step along the dell +And with thy horns, and eyes look all around +And up, and down. + +“We think of all thy virtue, and thy ways, +Thy simple ways of eating hay and grass; +We would not cause thy cheek to blush with praise, +Yet we have marked thee, marked thee as thou pass +We could but fain. + +“And lo! our admiration thou dost win +Thou in the haunts of fashion keep afar, +Thou dost not lo! imbibe vile beer or gin, +Or smoke with pipe, or with a bad cigar, +Or cigarette. + +“Thou dost not flirt nor cast sheep eyes on her +Who is bound unto another by a vow— +Thou dost not murmur love words in her ear, +While husband’s prowl about, to make a row +Or shoot with gun. + +“Thou dost not drive in tandem, or on high— +In stately loneliness, in Tally Ho go round, +Thou dost not on a horse back nobly canter by, +Or drive in dog carts up and down the land, +By day or night. + +“For ice cream, or for custard pie thou hankerest not, +Yearn not for caramels, nor apple sass, +Thou dost not eat pop corn, or peanuts down the grot, +Ah! no, sweet deer, thou meekly eatest grass +In peace. + +“A lesson man might learn of thee full well, +To eat with sweet content tough steak, or thin; +Cold toast, or hot imbibe, think of that dell— +That patient deer, and eat in peace, nor sin +With profane word. + +“If waiters do not come with food, think on that deer, +If food be bad and cold, think on that dell, +Strike not for vengeance with a deadly spear, +Learn of that angel deer and murmur, all is well, +While eating grass.” + + + + + +Chapter XIV. +LAKE GEORGE AND MOUNT McGREGOR. + + +It wuz on a nice pleasant day that Ardelia Tuit, Josiah Allen, and me, +met by previous agreement quite early in the mornin’, A. M., and sot +out for Lake George. It is so nigh, that you can step onto the cars, +and go out and see George any time of day. + +It seemed to me jest as if George wuz glad we had come, for there wuz a +broad happy smile all over his face, and a sort of a dimplin’ look, as +if he wanted to laugh right out. All the beckonin’ shores and islands, +with their beautiful houses on ’em, and the distant forests, and the +trees a bendin’ over George, all seemed to sort a smile out a welcome +to us. We had a most beautiful day, and got back quite late in the +afternoon, P. M. + +And the next day, a day heavenly calm and fair, Josiah Allen and me sot +sail for Mount McGregor—that mountain top that is lifted up higher in +the hearts of Americans than any other peak on the continent—fur +higher. For it is the place where the memory of a Hero lays over all +the peaceful landscape like a inspiration and a benediction, and will +rest there forever. + +The railroad winds round and round the mountain sometimes not seemin’ly +goin’ up at all, but gradually a movin’ in’ on towards the top, jest as +this brave Hero did in his career. If some of the time he didn’t seem +to move on, or if some of the time he seemed to go back for a little, +yet there wuz a deathless fire inside on him, a power, a strength that +kep’ him a goin’ up, up, up, and drawin’ the nation up with him onto +the safe level ground of Victory. + +We got pleasant glimpses of beauty, pretty pictures on’t, every little +while as we wended our way on up the mountains. Anon we would go round +a curve, a ledge of rocks mebby, and lo! far off a openin’ through the +woods would show us a lovely picture of hill and dell, blue water and +blue mountains in the distance. And then a green wood picture, shut in +and lonely, with tall ferns, and wild flowers, and thick green grasses +under the bendin’ trees. Then fur down agin’ a picture of a farmhouse, +sheltered and quiet, with fields layin’ about it green and golden. + +But anon, we reached the pretty little lonesome station, and there we +wuz on top of Mount McGregor. We disembarked from the cars and wended +our way up the hill up the windin’ foot path, wore down by the feet of +pilgrims from every land, quite a tegus walk though beautiful, up to +the good-lookin’, and good appearin’ tarven. + +I would fain have stopped at that minute at the abode the Hero had +sanctified by his last looks. But my companion said to me that he wuz +in nearly a starvin’ state. Now it wuzn’t much after 11 A. M. forenoon, +and I felt that he would not die of starvation so soon. But his looks +wuz pitiful in the extreme and he reminded me in a sort of a weak voice +that he didn’t eat no breakfast hardly. + +I sez truthfully, “I didn’t notice it, Josiah.” But sez I, “I will +accompany you where your hunger can be slaked.” So we went straight up +to the tarven. + +But I would stop a minute in front of it, to see the lovely, lovely +seen that wuz spread out before our eyes. For fur off could we see +milds and milds of the beautiful country a layin’ fur below us. +Beautiful landscape, dotted with crystal lakes, laved by the blue +Hudson and bordered by the fur-away mountains. + +It wuz a fair seen, a fair seen. Even Josiah wuz rousted up by it, and +forgot his hunger. I myself wuz lost in the contemplation on it, and +entirely by the side of myself. So much so, that I forgot where I wuz, +and whether I wuz a wife or a widow, or what I wuz. + +But anon, as my senses came back from the realm of pure beauty they had +been a traversin’, I recollected that I wuz a wife, that Providence and +Elder Minkley had placed a man in my hands to take care on; and I see +he wuz gone from me, and I must look him up. + +And I found that man in one of the high tallish lookin’ swing chairs +that wuz a swingin’ from high poles all along the brow of the hill. +They looked some like a stanchol for a horse, and some like a pair of +galluses that criminals are hung on. + +Josiah wuzn’t able to work it right and it did require a deep mind to +get into one without peril. And he wuz on the brink of a catastrophe. I +got him out by siezin’ the chair and holdin’ it tight, till he +dismounted from it—which he did with words unadapted to the serenity of +the atmosphere. And then we went out the broad pleasant door-yard up +into the tarven, and my companion got some coffee, and some +refreshments, to refresh ourselves with. And then he, feelin’ clever +and real affectionate to me (owin’ partly I s’pose to the good dinner), +we wended our way down to the cottage where the Hero met his last foe +and fell victorious. + +The Swing Chair + +We went up the broad steps onto the piazza, and I looked off from it, +and over all the landscape under the soft summer sky, lay that same +beautiful tender inspired memory. It lay like the hush that follows a +prayer at a dyin’ bed. Like the glow that rests on the world when the +sun has gone down in glory. Like the silence full of voices that +follows a oriter’s inspired words. + +The air, the whole place, thrilled with that memory, that presence that +wuz with us, though unseen to the eyes of our spectacles. It followed +us through the door way, it went ahead on us into the room where the +pen wuz laid down for the last time, where the last words wuz said. +That pen wuz hung up over the bed where the tired head had rested last. +By the bedside wuz the candle blowed out, when he got to the place +where it is so light they don’t need candles. The watch stopped at the +time when he begun to recken time by the deathless ages of immortality. +And as I stood there, I said to myself, “I wish I could see the faces +that wuz a bendin’ over this bed, August 11th, 1885.” + +All the ministerin’ angels, and heroes, and conquerors, all a waitin’ +for him to join ’em. All the Grand Army of the Republic, them who fell +in mountain and valley; the lamented and the nameless, all, all a +waitin’ for the Leader they loved, the silent, quiet man, whose soul +spoke, who said in deeds what weaker spirits waste in language. + +I wished I could see the great army that stood around Mount McGregor +that day. I wished I could hear the notes of the immortal revelee, +which wuz a soundin’ all along the lines callin’ him to wake from his +earth sleep into life—callin’ him from the night here, the night of +sorrow and pain, into the mornin’. + +And as I lifted my eyes, the eyes of the General seemed to look cleer +down into my soul, full of the secrets that he could tell now, if he +wanted to, full of the mysteries of life, the mysteries of death. The +voiceless presence that filled the hull landscape, earth and air, +looked at us through them eyes, half mournful, prophetic, true and +calm, they wuz a lookin’ through all the past, through all the future. +What did they see there? I couldn’t tell, nor Josiah. + +In another room wuz the flowers from many climes. Flowers strewed onto +the stage from hands all over the world, when the foot lights burned +low, and the dark curtain went down for the last time on the Hero. +Great masses of flowers, every one on ’em, bearin’ the world’s love, +the world’s sorrow over our nation’s loss. + +I had a large quantity of emotions as I stood there, probably as many +as 48 a minute for quite a spell, and that is a large number of +emotions to have, when the size of ’em is as large as the sizes of ’em +wuz. I thought as I stood there of what I had hearn the Hero said once +in his last illness, that, liftin’ up his grand right arm that had +saved the Nation, he said, “I am on duty from four to six.” + +Yes, thinkses I, he wuz on duty all through the shadows and the +darkness of war, all through the peril, and the heartache, and the wild +alarm of war, calm and dauntless, he wuz on duty till the mornin’ of +peace came, and the light wuz shinin’. + +On duty through the darkness. No one believed, no one dared to think +that if peril had come again to the country, he would not have been +ready,—ready to face danger and death for the people he had saved once, +the people whom he loved, because he had dared death for ’em. + +Yes, he wuz on duty. + +There wuz a darker shadow come to him than any cloud that ever rose +over a battle-field when, honest and true himself as the light, he +still stood under the shadow of blame and impendin’ want, stood in the +blackest shadow that can cover generous, faithful hearts, the +heart-sickenin’ shadow of ingratitude; when the people he had saved +from ruin hesitated, and refused to give him in the time of his need +the paltry pension, the few dollars out of the millions he had saved +for them, preferring to allow _him_, the greatest hero of the world, +the man who had represented them before the nations, to sell the badges +and swords he had worn in fightin’ their battles, for bread for himself +and wife. + +But he wuz on duty all through this night. Patient, uncomplainin’. And +not one of these warriors fightin’ their bloodless battle of words +aginst him, would dare to say that he would not have been ready at any +minute, to give his life agin for these very men, had danger come to +the country and they had needed him. + +And when hastened on by the shock, and the suspense, death seemed to be +near him, so near that it seemed as if the burden must needs be +light—the tardy justice that came to him must have seemed like an +insult, but if he thought so he never said it; no, brave and patient, +he wuz on duty. + +And all through the long, long time that he looked through the shadows +for a more sure foe than had ever lain in Southern ambush for him, he +wuz on duty. Not an impatient word, not an anxious word. Of all the +feerin’, doubtin’, hopin’, achin’ hearts about him, he only wuz calm. + +For, not only his own dear ones, but the hull country, friends and foes +alike, as if learnin’ through fear of his loss how grand a hero he wuz, +and how greatly and entirely he wuz beloved by them all, they sent up +to Heaven such a great cloud of prayers for his safety as never rose +for any man. But he only wuz calm, while the hull world wuz excited in +his behalf. + +For the sight of his patient work, the sight of him who stopped dyin’ +(as it were) to earn by his own brave honest hand the future comfort of +his family, amazed, and wonderin’ at this spectacle, one of the +greatest it seems to me that ever wuz seen on earth, the hull nation +turned to him in such a full hearted love, and admiration, and worship, +that they forgot in their quicker adorin’ heart-throbs, the slower +meaner throbs they had gin him, this same brave Hero, jest as brave and +true-hearted in the past as he wuz on his grand death-bed. + +They forgot everything that had gone by in their worship, and I don’t +know but I ort to. Mebby I had. I shouldn’t wonder a mite if I had. But +all the while, all through the agony and the labor, and when too +wearied he lay down the pen,—he wuz on duty. + +Waitin’ patiently, fearlessly, till he should see in the first glow of +the sunrise the form of the angel comin’ to relieve his watch, the +tall, fair angel of Rest, that the Great Commander sent down in the +mornin’ watches to relieve his weary soldier,that divinest angel that +ever comes to the abode of men, though her beauty shines forever +through tears, led by her hand, he has left life’s battle-field +forever; and what is left to this nation but memory, love, and mebby +remorse. + +But little matters it to him, the Nation’s love or the Nation’s blame, +restin’ there by the calm waters he loved. The tides come in, and the +tides go out; jest as they did in his life; the fickle tide of public +favor that swept by him, movin’ him not on his heavenly mission of duty +and patriotism. + +The tides go out, and the tides come in; the wind wails and the wind +sings its sweet summer songs; but he does not mind the melody or the +clamor. He is resting. Sleep on, Hero beloved, while the world wakes to +praise thee. + +Wall, we sot sail from Mount McGregor about half-past four P. M., +afternoon. And we wound round and round the mountain side jest as he +did, only goin’ down into the valley instid of upwards. But the trees +that clothed the bare back of the mountain looked green and shinin’ in +the late afternoon sunlight, and the fields spread out in the valley +looked green and peaceful under the cool shadows of approachin’ sunset. + +And right in the midst of one of these fields, all full of white +daisies, the cars stopped and the conductor sung out: “Five minutes’ +stop at Daisy station. Five minutes to get out and pick daisies.” + +And sez Josiah to me in gruff axents, when I asked him if he wuz goin’ +to get out and pick some. Sez he, “Samantha, no man can go ahead of me +in hatin’ the dumb weeds, and doin’ his best towards uprootin’ ’em in +my own land; and I deeply sympathize with any man who is over run by +’em. But why am I beholdin’ to the man that owns this lot? Why should I +and all the rest of this carload of folks, all dressed up in our best +too, lay hold and weed out these infernal nuisances for nothin’?” + +Yes, he said these fearfully profane words to me and I herd him in +silence, for I did not want to make a seen in public. Sez I, “Josiah, +they are pickin’ ’em because they love ’em.” + +“Love ’em!” Oh, the fearful, scornful unbelievin’ look that came over +my pardner’s face, as I said these peaceful words to him. And he added +a expletive which I am fur from bein’ urged to ever repeat. It wuz +sinful. + +“Love ’em!” Agin he sez. And agin follerd a expletive that wuz still +more forcible, and still more sinful. And I felt obliged to check him +which I did. And after a long parlay, in which I used my best endeavors +of argument and reason to convince him that I wuz in the right on’t, I +see he wuzn’t convinced. And then I spoke about its bein’ fashionable +to get out and pick ’em, and he looked different to once. I could see a +change in him. All my arguments of the beauty and sweetness of the +posies had no effect, but when I said fashionable, he faltered, and he +sez, “Is it called a genteel diversion?” + +And I sez, “Yes.” + +And finally he sez, “Wall, I s’pose I can go out and pick some for you. +Dumb their dumb picters.” + +Sez I, “Don’t go in that spirit, Josiah Allen.” + +“Wall, I shall go in jest that sprit,” he snapped out, “if I go at +all.” And he went. + +But oh! it wuz a sight to set and look on, and see the look onto his +face, as he picked the innocent blossoms. It wuz a look of such deep +loathin’, and hatred, combined with a sort of a genteel, fashionable +air. + +Altogether it wuz the most curius, and strange look, that I ever see +outside of a menagery of wild animals. And he had that same look onto +his face as he came in and gin ’em to me. He had yanked’em all up by +their roots too, which made the Bokay look more strange. But I accepted +of it in silence, for I see by his mean that he wuz not in a condition +to brook another word. + +And I trembled when a bystander a standin’ by who wuz arrangin’ a +beautiful bunch of ’em, a handlin’ ’em as flowers ort to be handled, as +if they had a soul, and could feel a rough or tender touch,—this man +sez to Josiah, “I see that you too love this beautiful blossom.” + +I wuz glad the man’s eyes wuz riveted onto his Bokay, for the ferocity +of Josiah Allen’s look wuz sunthin’ fearful. He looked as if he could +tear him lim’ from lim’. + +And I hastily drawed Josiah to a seat at the other end of the car, and +voyalently, but firmly, I drawed his attention off onto Religion. + +I sez, “Josiah, do you believe we had better paint the steeple of the +meetin’-house, white or dark colered?” + +This wuz a subject that had rent Jonesville to its very twain. And +Josiah had been fearfully exercised on it. And this plan of mine +succeeded. He got eloquent on it, and I kinder held off, and talked +offish, and let him convince me. + +I did it from principle. + + + + +Chapter XV. +ADVENTURES AT VARIOUS SPRINGS. + + +A few days after this, Josiah Allen came in, and sez he, “The +Everlastin’ spring is the one for me, Samantha! I believe it will keep +me alive for hundreds and hundreds of years.” + +Sez I, “I don’t believe that, Josiah Allen.” + +“Wall, it is so, whether you believe it or not. Why, I see a feller +just now who sez he don’t believe anybody would ever die at all, if +they kep’ themselves’ kind a wet through all the time with this water.” + +Sez I, “Josiah Allen, you are not talkin’ Bible. The Bible sez, ‘all +flesh is as grass.’” + +“Wall, that is what he meant; if the grass wuz watered with that water +all the time, it would never wilt.” + +“Oh, shaw!” sez I. (I seldom say shaw, but this seemed to me a time for +shawin’.) + +But Josiah kep’ on, for he wuz fearfully excited. Sez he, “Why, the +feller said, there wuz a old man who lived right by the side of this +spring, and felt the effects of it inside and out all the time, it wuz +so healthy there. Why the old man kep’ on a livin’, and a livin’ till +he got to be a hundred. And he wuz kinder lazy naturally and he got +tired of livin’. He said he wuz tired of gettin’ up mornin’s and +dressin’ of him, tired of pullin’ on his boots and drawin’ on his +trowsers, and he told his grandson Sam to take him up to Troy and let +him die. + +“Wall, Sam took him up to Troy, and he died right away, almost. And Sam +bein’ a good-hearted chap, thought it would please the old man to he +buried down by the spring, that healthy spot. So he took him back there +in a wagon he borrowed. And when he got clost to the spring, Sam heard +a sithe, and he looked back, and there the old gentleman wuz a settin’ +up a leanin’ his head on his elbo and he sez, in a sort of a sad way, +not mad, but melanecolly, ‘You hadn’t ort to don it, Sam. You hadn’t +ort to. I’m in now for another hundred years.’” + +The Everlastin’ Spring + +I told Josiah I didn’t believe that. Sez I, “I believe the waters are +good, very good, and the air is healthy here in the extreme, but I +don’t believe that.” + +But he said it wuz a fact, and the feller said he could prove it. +“Why,” Josiah sez, “with the minerals there is in that spring, if you +only take enough of it, I don’t see how anybody can die.” And sez +Josiah, “I am a goin’ to jest live on that water while I am here.” + +“Wall,” sez I, “you must do as you are a mind to, with fear and +tremblin’.” + +I thought mebby quotin’ Scripture to him would kinder quell him down, +for he wuz fearfully agitated and wrought up about the Everlastin’ +spring. And he begun at once to calculate on it, on how much he could +drink of it, if he begun early in the mornin’ and drinked late at +night. + +But I kep’ on megum. I drinked the waters that seemed to help me and +made me feel better, but wuz megum in it, and didn’t get over excited +about any on ’em. But oh! oh! the quantities of that water that Josiah +Allen took! Why, it seemed as if he would make a perfect shipwreck of +his own body, and wash himself away, till one day he came in fearful +excited agin, and sez he, in agitated axents, “I made a mistake, +Samantha. The Immortal spring is the one for me.” + +“Why?” sez I. + +“Oh, I have jest seen a feller that has been a tellin’ me about it.” + +“What did he say?” sez I, in calm axents. + +“Wall, I’ll tell you. It has acted on my feelin’s dretful.” Says he, “I +have shed some tears.” (I see Josiah Allen had been a cryin’ when he +came in.) + +And I sez agin, “What is it?” + +“Wall,” he said, “this man had a dretful sick wife. And he wuz a +carryin’ her to the Immortal spring jest as fast as he could, for he +felt it would save her, if he could get her to it. But she died a mile +and a half from the spring. It wuz night, for he had traveled night and +day to get her there, and the tarvens wuz all shut up, and he laid her +on the spring-house floor, and laid down himself on one of the benches. +He took a drink himself, the last thing before he laid down, for he +felt that he must have sunthin’ to sustain him in his affliction. + +“Wall, in the night he heard a splashin’, and he rousted up, and he see +that he had left the water kinder careless the night before, and it had +broke loose and covered the floor and riz up round the body, and there +she wuz, all bright and hearty, a splashin’ and a swimmin’ round in the +water.” He said the man cried like a child when he told him of it. + +The Immortal Spring + +And sez Josiah, “It wuz dretful affectin’. It brought tears from me, to +hear on’t. I thought what if it had been you, Samantha!” + +“Wall,” sez I, “I don’t see no occasion for tears, unless you would +have been sorry to had me brung to.” + +“Oh!” sez Josiah, “I didn’t think! I guess I have cried in the wrong +place.” + +Sez I coldly, “I should think as much.” + +And Josiah put on his hat and hurried out. He meant well. But it is +quite a nack for pardners to know jest when to cry, and when to laff. + +Wall, he follered up that spring, and drinked more, fur more than wuz +good for him of that water. And then anon, he would hear of another +one, and some dretful big story about it, and he would foller that up, +and so it went on, he a follerin’ on, and I a bein’ megum, and drinkin’ +stiddy, but moderate. And as it might be expected, I gained in health +every day, and every hour. For the waters is good, there haint no doubt +of it. + +But Josiah takin’ em as he did, bobbin’ round from one to the other, +drinkin’ ’em at all hours of day and night, and floodin’ himself out +with ’em, every one on ’em—why, he lost strength and health every day, +till I felt truly, that if it went on much longer, I should go home in +weeds. Not mullein, or burdock, or anything of that sort, but crape. + +But at last a event occurred that sort a sot him to thinkin’ and +quelled him down some. One day we sot out for a walk, Josiah and +Ardelia Tutt and me. And in spite of all my protestations, my pardner +had drinked 11 glasses full of the spring he wuz a follerin’ then. And +he looked white round the lips as anything. And Ardelia and I wuz a +sittin’ in a good shady place, and Josiah a little distance off, when a +man ackosted him, a man with black eyes and black whiskers, and sez, +“You look pale, Sir. What water are you a drinkin’?” + +And Josiah told him that at that time he wuz a drinkin’ the water from +the Immortal spring. + +“Drinkin’ that water?” sez the man, startin’ back horrefied. + +“Yes,” sez Josiah, turnin’ paler than ever, for the man’s looks wuz +skairful in the extreme. + +“Oh! oh!” groaned the man. “And you are a married man?” he groaned out +mournfully, a lookin’ pitifully at him. “With a family?” + +“Yes,” sez Josiah, faintly. + +“Oh dear,” sez the man, “must it be so, to die, so—so lamented?” + +“To die!” sez Josiah, turnin’ white jest round the lip. + +“Yes, to die! Did you not say you had been a drinkin’ the water from +the Immortal spring?” + +“Yes,” sez Josiah. + +“Wall, it is a certain, a deadly poison.” + +“Haint there no help for me?” sez Josiah. + +“Yes,” sez the man, “You must drink from the Live-forever spring, at +the other end of the village. That water has the happy effect of +neutralizin’ the poisons of the Immortal spring. If anything can save +you that can. Why,” sez he, “folks that have been entirely broke down, +and made helpless and hopeless invalids, them that have been brung down +on their death-beds by the use of that vile Immortal water, have been +cured by a few glasses of the pure healin’ waters of the Live-forever +spring. I’d advise you for your own sake, and the sake of your family, +who would mourn your ontimely decese, to drink from that spring at +once.” + +“But,” sez Josiah, with a agonized and hopeless look, “I can’t drink no +more now.” + +“Why?” sez the man. + +“Because I don’t hold any more. I don’t hold but two quarts, and I have +drinked 11 tumblers full now.” + +“Eleven glasses of that poison?” sez the man. + +“Wall, if it is too late I am not to blame. I’ve warned you. Farewell,” +sez he, a graspin’ holt of Josiah’s hand. “Farewell, forever. But if +you _do_ live,” sez he, “if by a miricle you are saved, remember the +Live-forever spring. If there is any help for you it is in them +waters.” + +The Live-forever Spring + +And he dashed away, for another stranger wuz approachin’ the seen. + +I, myself, didn’t have no idee that Josiah wuz a goin’ to die. But +Ardelia whispered to me, she must go back to the hotel, so she went. I +see she looked kinder strange, and I didn’t object to it. And when we +got back she handed me some verses entitled: + +“Stanzas on the death of Josiah Allen.” + +She handed ’em to me, and hastened away, quick. But Josiah Allen didn’t +die. And this incident made him more megum. More as I wanted him to be. +Why, you have to be megum in everything, no matter how good it is. Milk +porridge, or the Bible, or anything. You can kill yourself on milk +porridge if you drink enough. And you can set down and read the Bible, +till you grow to your chair, and lose your eyesight. + +Now these waters are dretful good, but you have got to use some +megumness _with_ ’em, it stands to reason you have. Taint megum to +drink from 10 to 12 glasses at a time, and mix your drinks goin’ round +from spring to spring like a luny. No; get a good doctor to tell you +what minerals you seem to stand in need on the most, and then try to +get ’em with fear and tremblin’. You’ll get help I haint a doubt on’t. +For they are dretful good for varius things that afflict the human +body. Dretful! + +These are the verses of Ardelia: + +“STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF JOSIAH ALLEN. + +“Oh! angel man that erst did live and move, +Thy wings close furled within a broad cloth vest, +With cambric back, oh, soul of love +That in those depths reposed—Alas why wrest +Why wildly tear, + +“Oh death, that soul, white nigh upon as snow, +From body, small perhaps, by stillyards weighed, +And full as light complexioned, as men go, +As is the common run of men, arrayed, +Oh yes, arrayed, + +“In graces full he wentest to his fate, +His doom wuz pure as men’s dooms ever are; +Not by the brandy bottle fell he desolate +No, by sweet water fell he, with a noble air, +And breath of balm, + +“Not with a feud with neighbor foe he fell +Nor scaffolds did he tread with aching feet +Nor arson he, nor rapine down the dell, +No, pure white soul, he fell by water sweet; +All innocent. + +“Had whisky strong his slight form overthrew— +We’d weep with finger hiding all our face, +To think a sling should slung at him and slew, +But no, by water fell he, no disgrace— +No direful shame. + +“Rests on his tomb, his bride; the world around, +Methinks a world might wish to fall like him +The prophets of old time who smiled and frowned +Could court such fate, we feel Abim— +We feel Abim— + +“ilek, or Job, might be content to die +With crystal water, drunken from a glass, +Held by a boy, and no great quantitie +Drunk he, not over nine in all, alas, +Or ten, or ’leven. + +“Oh, spring, oh, magnesie percipitate +And sodium and iron—and everything, +Methinks ye’ll sadder feel, since his sad fate +Who drunk thee up, not thinking anything— +We do suppose— + +“Not anything of poison ye might keep +Might hold within thy crystal foaming breast +Why did he not the other spring drink deep, +And live? But oh! why ask? sweet angel spirit rest +From water far. + +“Dear man, we raise this mound of verse o’er thee, +Would that ’twere higher, and more fiery bright. +We will, we will, while nations disagree, +Sit down and write as many as it seemeth right +Unto his wife.” + + +On the other side of the paper, as if wrote later, wuz the follerin’ +lines. Ardelia is truthful. This is her strong point, that and her +ambition. + +“MY OWN LAY ON A SPRING. +“BV ARDELIA TUTT. + +“Oh who can tell when air is full of warn +What crystal drop shall speed us to our fate, +And I alas, so blind, shall still drink on, +Shall drink thee early, and shall drink thee late +From every spring. + +“Shall drink as many glasses as I hold, +One quart, or two, as fate shall thus decree, +Some are but vessels weak, some bold +And dauntless, hold from two quarts up to three, +Or thereabouts. + +“Shall drink from wells all gemmed with crystal rays +With golden sheen, up sparkling to the rim, +And that is pure and clear to outward gaze +With hathorn bending gently o’er the brim +And every sort.” + + + + +Chapter XVI. +AT A LAWN PARTY. + + +Wall, the very next mornin’ Miss Flamm sent word for Josiah and me to +come that night to a lawn party. And I sez at once, “I must go and get +some lawn.” + +Sez Josiah, “What will you do with it?” + +And I sez, “Oh, I s’pose I shall wrap it round me, I’ll do what the +rest do.” + +And sez Josiah, “Hadn’t I ort to have some too? If it is a lawn party +and everybody else has it, I shall feel like a fool without any lawn.” + +And I looked at him in deep thought, and through him into the causes +and consequences of things, and sez I, “I s’pose you do ort to have a +lawn necktie, or handkerchief, or sunthin’.” + +Sez he, “How would a vest look made out of it, a kinder sprigged one, +light gay colors on a yaller ground-work?” + +But I sez at once, “You never will go out with me, Josiah, with a lawn +vest on.” And I settled it right there on the spot. + +Then he proposed to have some wrapped round his hat, sort a festooned. +But I stood like marble aginst that idee. But I knew I had got to have +some lawn, and pretty soon we sallied out together and wended our way +down to where I should be likely to find a lawn store. + +And who should we meet a comin’ out of a store but Ardelia. Her 3d +cousin had sent her over to get a ingregient for cookin’. Good, willin’ +little creeter! She walked along with us for a spell. And while she wuz +a walkin’ along with us, we come onto a sight that always looked +pitiful to me, the old female that wuz always a’ sittin’ there a +singin’ and playin’ on a accordeun. And it seemed to me that she looked +pitifuller and homblier than ever, as she sot there amongst the dense +crowd that mornin’ a singin’ and a playin’. Her tone wuz thin, thin as +gauze, hombly gause too. But I wondered to myself how she wuz a feelin’ +inside of her own mind, and what voices she heard a speakin’ to her own +soul, through them hombly strains. And, ontirely unbeknown to myself, I +fell into a short revery (short but deep) right there in the street, as +I looked down on her, a settin’ there so old, and patient and helpless, +amongst the gay movin’ throng. + +And I wondered what did she see, a settin’ there with her blind eyes, +what did she hear through them hombly tones that she wuz a singin’ day +after day to a crowd that wuz indifferent to her, or despised her? Did +she hear the song of the mornin’, the spring time of life? Did the song +of a lark come back to her, a lark flyin’ up through the sweet mornin’ +sky over the doorway of a home, a lark watched by young eyes, two pairs +of ’em, that made the seein’ a blessedness? Did a baby’s first sweet +blunders of speech, and happy laughter come back to her, as she sot +there a drawin’ out with her wrinkled hands them miserable sounds from +the groanin’ instrument? Did home, love, happiness sound out to her, +out of them hombly strains? I’d have gin a cent to know. + +And I’d have gin a cent quick to know if the tread—tread—tread of the +crowd goin’ past her day after day, hour after hour, seems to her like +the trample of Time a marchin’ on. Did she hear in ’em the footsteps of +child, or lover, or friend, a steppin’ away from her, and youth and +happiness, and hope, a stiddy goin’ away from her? + +Did she ever listen through the constant sound of them steps, listen to +hear the tread of them feet that she must know wuz a comin’ nigh to +her—the icy feet that will approach us, if their way leads over rocks +or roses? + +Did she hate to hear them steps a comin’ nearer to her, or did she +strain her ears to hear ’em, to welcome ’em? I thought like as not she +did. For thinkses I to myself, and couldn’t help it, if she is a +Christian she must be glad to change that old accordeun for a harp of +any size or shape. For mournfuller and more melancholy sounds than her +voice and that instrument made I never hearn, nor ever expect to hear, +and thin. + +Poor, old, hombly critter, I gin her quite a lot of change one day, and +she braced up and sung and drawed out faster than ever, and thinner. +Though I’d have gladly hearn her stop. + +When I come up out of my revery, I see Ardelia lookin’ at her stiddy +and kind a sot. And I mistrusted trouble wuz ahead on me, and I hurried +Josiah down the street. Ardelia a sayin’ she had got to turn the +corner, to go to another place for her 3d cousin. + +Jest as we wuz a crossin’ a street my companion drawed my attention to +a sign that wuz jest overhead, and sez lie, “That means me, I’m spoke +of right out, and hung up overhead.” + +And sez I, “What do you mean?” + +Sez he, “Read it—‘The First Man-I-Cure Of The Day.’ That’s me, +Samantha; I haint a doubt of it. And I s’pose I ort to go in and be +cured. I s’pose probably it will be expected of me, that I should go +in, and let him look at my corns.” + +Sez I, “Josiah Allen, I’ve heerd you talk time and agin aginst big +feelin’ folks, and here you be a talkin’ it right to yourself, and +callin’ yourself the first man of the day.” + +“Wall,” sez he firmly, “I believe it, and I believe you do, and you’d +own up to it, if you wuzn’t so aggravatin’.” + +“Wall, sez I mildly, “I do think you are the first in some things, +though what them things are, I would be fur from wantin’ to tell you. +But,” I continued on, “I don’t see you should think that means you. +Saratoga is full of men, and most probable every man of ’em thinks it +means him.” + +“Wall,” sez he, “I don’t _think_ it means me, I _know_ it. And I +s’pose,” he continued dreamily, “they’d cure me, and not charge a +cent.” + +“Wall,” sez I, “wait till another time, Josiah Allen.” And jest at this +minute, right down under our feet, we see the word “Pray,” in big +letters scraped right out in stun. And Josiah sez, “I wonder if the +dumb fools think anybody is goin to kneel down right here in the +street, and be run over. Why a man would be knocked over a dozen times, +before he got through one prayer, Now I lay me down to sleep, or +anything.” + +“Wall,” sez I, mildly, “I don’t think that would be a very suitable +prayer under the circumstances. It haint expected that you’d lay down +here for a nap—howsumever,” sez I reesunably “their puttin’ the word +there shows what good streaks the folks here have, and I don’t want you +to make light on’t, and if you don’t want to act like a perfect +backslider you’ll ceese usin’ such profane language on sech a solemn +subject.” + +Wall, we went into a good lookin’store and I wuz jest a lookin’ at some +lawn and a wonderin’ how many yards I should want, when who should come +in but Miss Flamm to get a rooch for her neck. + +Looking at some lawn + +And she told me that I didn’t need any lawn, and that it wuz a Garden +party, and folks dressed in anything they wuz a mind to, though sez +she, “A good many go in full dress.” + +“Wall,” sez I calmly, “I have got one.” And she told me to come in good +season. + +That afternoon, Josiah a bein’ out for a walk, I took out of my trunk a +dress that Alminy Hagidon had made for me out of a very full pattern I +had got of a peddler, and wanted it all put in, so’s it would fade all +alike, for I mistrusted it wouldn’t wash. It wuz gethered-in full round +the waist, and the sleeves wuz set in full, and the waist wuz kinder +full before, and it had a deep high ruffle gathered-in full round the +neck. It wuz a very full dress, though I haint proud, and never wuz +called so. Yet anybody duz take a modest pleasure in bein’ equal to any +occasion and comin’ up nobly to a emergency. And I own that I did say +to myself, as I pulled out the gethers in front, “Wall, there may be +full dresses there to-night, but there will be none fuller than mine.” + +And I wuz glad that Alminy had made it jest as she had. She had made it +a little fuller than even I had laid out to have it, for she mistrusted +it would shrink in washin’. It wuz a very full dress. It wuz cambrick +dark chocolate, with a set flower of a kind of a cinnamon brown and +yellow, it wuz bran new and looked well. + +Wall, I had got it on, and wuz contemplatin’ its fullness with +complacency and a hand-glass, a seein’ how nobly it stood out behind, +and how full it wuz, when Josiah Allen came in. I had talked it over +with him, before he went out—and he wuz as tickled as I wuz, and +tickleder, to think I had got jest the right dress for the occasion. +But he sez to me the first thing—“You are all wrong, Samantha, full +dress means low neck and short sleeves.” + +Sez I, “I know better!” + +Sez he, “It duz.” + +Sez I, “Somebody has been a foolin’ you, Josiah Allen! There ain’t no +sense in it. Do you s’pose folks would call a dress full, when there +wuzn’t more’n half a waist and sleeves to it. I’d try to use a little +judgment, Josiah Allen! “ + +But he contended that he wuz in the right on’t. And he took up his best +vest that lay on the bed, and sot down, and took out his jack knife and +went a rippin’ open one of the shoulders, and sez I, “What are you +doin’, Josiah Allen?” + +“Why, you can do as you are a mind to, Samantha Allen,” sez he. “But I +shall go fashionable, I shall go in full dress.” + +Sez I, “Josiah Allen do you look me in the face and say you are a goin’ +in a low neck vest, and everything, to that party to-night?” + +“Yes, mom, I be. I am bound to be fashionable.” And he went to rollin’ +up his shirt sleeves and turnin’ in the neck of his shirt, in a manner +that wuz perfectly immodest. + +I turned my head away instinctively, for I felt that my cheek wuz a +gettin’ as red as blood, partly through delicacy and partly through +righteous anger. Sez I, “Josiah Allen, be you a calculatin’ to go there +right out in public before men and wimmen, a showin’ your bare bosom to +a crowd? Where is your modesty, Josiah Allen? Where is your decency?” + +Sez he firmly, “I keep ’em where all the rest do, who go in full +dress.” + +I sot right down in a chair and sez I, “Wall there is one thing +certain; if you go in that condition, you will go alone. Why,” sez I, +“to home, if Tirzah Ann, your own daughter, had ketched you in that +perdickerment, a rubbin’ on linement or anything, you would have jumped +and covered yourself up, quicker’n a flash, and likeways me, before +Thomas Jefferson. And now you lay out to go in that way before young +girls, and old ones, and men and wimmen, and want me to foller on after +your example. What in the world are you a thinkin’ on, Josiah Allen?” + +Full Dress + +“Why I’m a thinkin, on full dress,” sez be in a pert tone, a kinder +turnin’ himself before the glass, where he could get a good view of his +bones. His thin neck wuzn’t much more than bones, anyway, and so I told +him. And I asked him if he could see any beauty in it, and sez I, “Who +wants to look at our old bare necks, Josiah Allen? And if there wuzn’t +any other powerful reeson of modesty and decency in it, you’d ketch +your death cold, Josiah Allen, and be laid up with the newmoan. You +know you would,” sez I, “you are actin’ like a luny, Josiah Allen.” + +“It is you that are actin’ like a luny,” sez he bitterly. “I never +propose anything of a high fashionable kind but what you want to break +it up. Why, dumb it all, you know as well as I do, that men haint +called as modest as wimmen anyway. And if they have the name, why +shouldn’t they have the game? Why shouldn’t they go round half dressed +as well as wimmen do? And they are as strong agin; if there is any +danger to health in it they are better able to stand it. But,” sez he, +in the same bitter axents, “you always try to break up all my efforts +at high life and fashion. I presume you won’t waltz to-night, nor want +me to.” + +I groaned several times in spite of myself, and sithed, “Waltz!” sez I +in awful axents. “A classleader! and a grandfather! and talkin’ about +waltzin’!” + +Sez Josiah, “Men older than me waltz, and foller it up. Put their arms +right round the prettiest girls in the room, hug ’em, and swing ’em +right round”—sez he kinder spoony like. + +I said nothin’ at them fearful words, only my groans and sithes became +deeper and more voyalent. And in a minute I see through the fingers +with which I had nearly covered my face, that he wuz a pullin’ down his +shirt sleeves and a puttin’ his jack knife in his pocket. + +That man loves me. And love sways him round often times when reesun and +sound argument are powerless. Now, the sound reesun of the case didn’t +move him, such as the indelicacy of makin’ a exhibition of one’s self +in a way that would, if displayed in a heathen, be a call for +missionarys to convert ’em, and that makes men blush when they see it +in a Christian woman. + +The sound reason of its bein’ the fruitful cause of disease and death, +through the senseless exposure. + +The sound reason of the worse than folly of old and middle-aged folks +thinkin’ that the exhibition is a pretty one when it haint. + +The sound reason of its bein’ inconsistent for a woman to allow the +familiarity of a man and a stranger, a walkin’ up and puttin’ his arm +round her, and huggin’ her up to him as clost as he can; that act, that +a woman would resent as a deadly insult and her incensed relatives +avenge with the sword, if it occurred in any other place than the +ball-room and at the sound of the fiddle. The utter inconsistency of +her meetin’ it with smiles, and making frantic efforts to get more such +affronts than any other woman present—her male relatives a lookin’ +proudly on. + +The inconsistency of a man’s bein’ not only held guiltless but +applauded for doin’ what, if it took place in the street, or church, +would make him outlawed, for where is there a lot of manly men who +would look on calmly, and see a sweet young girl insulted by a man’s +ketchin’ hold of her and embracin’ of her tightly for half an +hour,—why, he would be turned out of his club and outlawed from +Christian homes if it took place in silence, but yet the sound of a +fiddle makes it all right. + +And I sez to myself mildly, as I sot there, “Is it that men and wimmen +lose their senses, or is there a sacredness in the strains of that +fiddle, that makes immodesty modest, indecency decent, and immorality +moral?” And agin I sithe heavy and gin 3 deep groans. And I see Josiah +gin in. All the sound reasons weighed as nothin’ with him, but 2 or 3 +groans, and a few sithes settled the matter. Truly Love is a mighty +conqueror. + +And anon Josiah spoke and sez, “Wall, I s’pose I can gin it all up, if +you feel so about it, but we shall act like fools, Samantha, and look +like ’em.” + +Sez I sternly, “Better be fools than naves, Josiah Allen! if we have +got to be one or the other, but we haint. We are a standin’ on firm +ground, Josiah Allen,” sez I. “The platform made of the boards of +consistency, and common sense, and decency, is one that will never +break down and let you through it, into gulfs and abysses. And on that +platform we will both stand to-night, dear Josiah.” + +I think it is always best when a pardner has gin in and you have had a +triumph of principle, to be bland; blander than common to him. I always +love at such times to round my words to him with a sweet +affectionateness of mean. I love to, and he loves it. + +We sot out in good season for the Garden party. And it wuz indeed a +sight to behold! But I did not at that first minute have a chance to +sense it, for Miss Flamm sent her hired girl out to ask me to come to +her room for a few minutes. Miss Flamm’s house is a undergoin’ repairs +for a few weeks, sunthin’ had gin out in the water works, so she and +her hired girl have been to this tarven for the time bein’. The hired +girl got us some good seats and tellin’ Josiah to keep one on ’em for +me, I follered the girl, or “maid,” as Miss Flamm calls her. But good +land! if she is a old maid, I don’t see where the young ones be. + +Miss Flamm had sent for me, so she said, to see if I wanted to ride out +the next day, and what time would be the most convenient to me, and +also, to see how I liked her dress. She didn’t know as she should see +me down below, in the crowd, and she wanted me to see it. (Miss Flamm +uses me dretful well, but I s’pose 2/3ds of it, is on Thomas J’s +account. Some folks think she is goin’ to have another lawsuit, and I +am glad enough to have him convey her lawsuits, for they are good, +honerable ones, and she pays him splendid for carryin’ ’em.) + +Wall, she had her skirts all on when I went in, all a foamin’ and a +shinin’, down onto the carpet, in a glitterin’ pile of pink satin and +white lace and posys. Gorgus enough for a princess. + +And I didn’t mind it much, bein’ only females present, if she wuz +exposin’ of herself a good deal. I kinder blushed a little as I looked +at her, and kep’ my eyes down on her skirts all I could, and thinkses I +to myself,—“What if G. Washington should come in? I shouldn’t know +which way to look.” But then the very next minute, I says to myself, +“Of course he won’t be in till she gets her waist on. I’m a borrowin’ +trouble for nothin’.” + +At last Miss Flamm spoke and says she, as she kinder craned herself +before the glass, a lookin’ at her back (most the hull length on it +bare, as I am a livin’ creeter); and says she, “How do you like my +dress?” + +How do you like my dress? + +“Oh,” says I, wantin’ to make myself agreeable (both on account of +principle, and the lawsuit), “the skirts are beautiful but I can’t +judge how the hull dress looks, you know, till you get your waist on.” + +“My waist?” says she. + +“Yes,” says I. + +“I have got it on,” says she. + +“Where is it?” says I, a lookin’ at her closer through my specks, +“Where is the waist?” + +“Here,” says she, a pintin’ to a pink belt ribbon, and a string of +beads over each shoulder. + +Says I, “Miss Flamm, do you call that a waist?” + +“Yes,” says she, and she balanced herself on her little pink tottlin’ +slippers. She couldn’t walk in ’em a good honerable walk to save her +life. How could she, with the instep not over two inches acrost, and +the heels right under the middle of her foot, more’n a finger high? +Good land, they wuz enuff to lame a Injun savage, and curb him in. But +she sort o’ balanced herself unto ’em, the best she could, and put her +hands round her waist—it wuzn’t much bigger than a pipe-stem, and sort +o’ bulgin’ out both ways, above and below, some like a string tied +tight round a piller, - and says she complacently, “I don’t believe +there will be a dress shown to-night more stylish and beautiful than +mine.” + +Says I, “Do you tell me, Miss Flamm, that you are a goin’ down into +that crowd of promiscus men and women, with nothin’ but them strings on +to cover you?” Says I, “Do you tell me that, and you a perfesser and a +Christian?” + +“Yes,” says she, “I paid 300 dollars for this dress, and it haint +likely I am goin’ to miss the chance of showin’ it off to the other +wimmen who will envy me the possession of it. To be sure,” says she, +“it is a little lower than Americans usually wear. But in fashion, as +in anything else, somebody has got to go ahead. This is the very +heighth of fashion,” says she. + +Says I in witherin’ and burnin’ skorn, “It is the heighth of +immodesty.” + +And I jest turned my back right ont’ her, and sailed out of the room. I +wuzn’t a a goin’ to stand that, lawsuit or no lawsuit. I wuz all worked +up in my mind, and by the side of myself, and I didn’t get over it for +some time, neither. + +Wall, I found my companion seated in that comfertable place, and a +keepin’ my chair for me, and so I sot down by him, and truly we sot +still, and see the glory, and the magnificence on every side on us. +There wuz 3 piazzas about as long as from our house to Jonesville, or +from Jonesville to Loontown, all filled with folks magnificently +dressed, and a big garden layin’ between ’em about as big as from our +house to Miss Gowdey’s, and so round crossways to Alminy Hagidone’s +brother’s, and back agin’. It wuz full as fur as that, and you know +well that that is a great distance. + +There wuz some big noble trees, all twinklin’ full of lights, of every +coler, and rows of shinin’ lights, criss-crossed every way, or that is, +every beautiful way, from the high ornimental pillers of the immense +house, that loomed up in the distance round us on every side, same as +the mountains loom up round Loontown. + +There wuz a big platform built in the middle of the garden, with sweet +music discoursin’ from it the most enchantin’ strains. And the +fountains wuz sprayin’ out the most beautiful colers you ever see in +your life, and fallin’ down in pink, and yellow, and gold, and green, +and amber, and silver water; sparklin’ down onto the green beautiful +ferns and flowers that loved to grow round the big marble basin which +shone white, risin’ out of the green velvet of the grass. + +Josiah looked at that water, and sez he, “Samantha, I’d love to get +some of that water to pass round evenin’s when we have company.” Sez +he, “It would look so dressy and fashionable to pass round pink water, +or light blue, or light yeller. How it would make Uncle Nate Gowdey +open his eyes. I believe I shall buy some bottles of it, Samantha, to +take home. What do you say? I don’t suppose it would cost such a +dretful sight, do you?” + +Sez he, “I s’pose all they have to do is to put pumps down into a pink +spring, or a yeller one, as the case may be, and pump. And I would be +willin’ to pump it up myself, if it would come cheaper.” + +But my companion soon forgot to follow up the theme in lookin’ about +him onto the magnificent, seen, and a seein’ the throngs of men and +wimmen growin’ more and more denser, and every crowd on ’em that swept +by us, and round us, and before us, a growin’ more gorgus in dress, or +so it seemed to us. Gemms of every gorgus coler under the heavens and +some jest the coler of the heavens when it is blue and shinin’ or when +it is purplish dark in the night time, or when it is full of white +fleecy clouds, or when it is a shinin’ with stars. + +Why, one woman had so many diamonds on that she had a detective +follerin’ her all round wherever she went. She wuz a blaze of splendor +and so wuz lots of ’em, though like the stars, they differed from each +other in glory. + +But whatever coler their gowns wuz, in one thing they wuz most all +alike—most all of ’em had waists all drawed in tight, but a bulgin’ out +on each side, more or less as the case might be. Why some of them +waists wuzn’t much bigger than pipe’s tails and so I told Josiah. + +And he whispered back to me, and sez he, “I wonder if them wimmen with +wasp waists, think that we men like the looks on ’em. They make a dumb +mistake if they do. Why,” sez he, “we men know what they be; we know +they are nothin’ but crushed bones and flesh.” Sez he, “I could make my +own waist look jest like ’em, if I should take a rope and strap myself +down.” + +“Wall,” sez I, in agitated axents, “don’t you try to go into no such +enterprise, Josiah Allen.” + +I remembered the eppisode of the afternoon, and I sez in anxins axents, +and affectionate, “Besides not lookin’ well, it is dangerous, awful +dangerous. And how I should blush,” sez I, “if I wuz to see you with a +leather strap or a rope round your waist under your coat, a drawin’ you +in ; a changin’ your good honerable shape. And God made men’s and +wimmen’s waists jest alike in the first place, and it is jest as smart +for men to deform themselves in that way as it is for wimmen. But oh, +the agony of my soul if I should see you a tryin’ to disfigure yourself +in that way.” + +“You needn’t be afraid, Samantha,” sez he, “I am dressy, and always +wuz, but I haint such a fool as that, as to kill myself in perfect +agony, for fashion.” + +I didn’t say nothin’ but instinctively I looked down at his feet, “Oh, +you needn’t look at my feet, Samantha, feet are very different from the +heart, and lungs, and such. You can squeeze your feet down, and not +hurt much moren the flesh and bones. But you are a destroyin’ the very +seat of life when you draw your waist in as them wimmen do.” + +“I know it,” sez I, “but I wouldn’t torture myself in any way if I wuz +in your place.” + +“I don’t lay out to,” sez he. “I haint a goin’ to wear corsets, it +haint at all probable I shall, though I am better able to stand it, +than wimmen be.” + +“I know that,” sez I. “I know men are stronger and better able to bear +the strain of bein’ drawed in and tapered.” I am reesonable, and will +ever speak truthful and honest, and this I couldn’t deny and didn’t try +to. + +“Wall, dumb it, what makes men stronger?” sez he. + +“Why,” sez I, “I s’pose one great thing is their dressin’ comfortable.” + +“Wall, I am glad you know enough to know it,” sez he. “Why,” sez he, +“jest imagine a man tyin’ a rope round his waist, round and round; or +worse yet, take strong steel, and whalebones, and bind and choke +himself down with ’em, and tottlin’ himself up on high heel slippers, +the high heels comin’ right up in the ball of his foot—and then havin’ +heavy skirts a holdin’ him down, tied back tight round his knees and +draggin’ along on the ground at his feet—imagine me in that +perdickerment, Samantha.” + +I shuddered, and sez I, “Don’t bring up no such seen to harrow up my +nerve.” Sez I, “You know I couldn’t stand it, to see you a facin’ life +and its solemn responsibilities in that condition. It would kill me to +witness your sufferin’,” sez I. And agin’ I shuddered, and agin I +sithed. + +And he sez, “Wall, it is jest as reasonable for a man to do it as for a +woman; it is far worse and more dangerous for a woman than a man.” + +“I know it,” sez I, between my sithes. “I know it, but I can’t, I can’t +stand it, to have you go into it.” + +“Wall, you needn’t worry, Samantha, I haint a fool. You won’t ketch men +a goin’ into any such performances as this, they know too much.” And +then he resumed on in a lighter agent, to get my mind still further off +from his danger, for I wuz still a sithin’, frequent and deep. + +Sez he, as he looked down and see some wimmen a passin’ below; sez hey +“I never see such a sight in my life, a man can see more here in one +evenin’ than he can in a life time at Jonesville.” + +“That is so, Josiah,” sez I, “you can.” And I felt every word I said, +for at that very minute a lady, or rather a female woman, passed with a +dress on so low in the neck that I instinctively turned away my head, +and when I looked round agin, a deep blush wuz mantlin’ the cheeks of +Josiah Allen, a flushin’ up his face, clear up into his bald head. + +I don’t believe I had ever been prouder of Josiah Allen, than I wuz at +that minute. That blush spoke plainer than words could, of the purity +and soundness of my pardner’s morals. If the whole nation had stood up +in front of me at that time, and told me his morals wuz a tottlin’ I +would have scorned the suggestion. No, that blush telegraphed to me +right from his soul, the sweet tidin’s of his modesty and worth. + +And I couldn’t refrain from sayin’ in encouragin’, happy axents, “Haint +you glad now, Josiah Allen, that you listened to your pardner; haint +you glad that you haint a goin’ round in a low necked coat and vest, a +callin’ up the blush of skern and outraged modesty to the cheeks ‘of +noble and modest men?” + +“Yes,” sez he, graspin’ holt of my hand in the warmth of his gratitude, +for he see what I had kep’ him from. “Yes, you wuz in the right on’t, +Samantha. I see the awfulness of the peril from which you rescued of +me. But never,” sez he, a lookin’ down agin over the railin’, onto some +more wimmen a passin’ beneath, “never did I see what I have seen here +to-night. Not,” sez he dreemily, “sense I wuz a baby.” + +“Wall,” sez I, “don’t try to look, Josiah; turn your eyes away.” + +And I believe he did try to—though such is the fascination of a known +danger in front of you, that it is hard to keep yourself from +contemplatin’ of it. But he tried to. And he tried to not look at the +waltzin’ no more than he could help, and I did too. But in spite of +himself he had to see how clost the young girls wuz held; how warmly +the young men embraced ’em. And as he looked on, agin I see the hot +blush of shame mantillied Josiah’s cheeks, and again he sez to me in +almost warm axents, “I realize what you have rescued me from, +Samantha.” + +And I sez, “You couldn’t have looked Elder Minkley in the face, could +you? if you had gone into that shameful diversion.” + +“No, I couldn’t, nor into yourn nuther. I couldn’t have looked nobody +in the face, if I had gone on and imposed on any young girl as they are +a doin’, and insulted of her. Why,” sez he, “if it wuz my Tirzah Ann +that them, men wuz a embracin’, and huggin’, and switchin’ her round, +as if they didn’t have no respect for her at all,—why, if it wuz Tirzah +Ann, I would tear ’em ’em from lim.” + +And he looked capable on’t. He looked almost sublime (though small). +And I hurried him away from the seen, for I didn’t know what would +ensue and foller on, if I let him linger there longer. He looked as +firm and warlike as one of our bantam fowls, a male one, when hawks are +a hoverin’ over the females of the flock. And when I say Bantam I say +it with no disrespect to Josiah Allen. Bantams are noble, and warlike +fowls, though small boneded. + +I got one more glimps of Miss Flamm jest as we left the tarven. She wuz +a standin’ up in the parlor, with a tall man a standin’ up in front of +her a talkin’. He seemed to be biddin’ of her good-bye, for he had holt +of her hand, and be wuz a sayin’ as we went by ’em, sez he, “I am sorry +not to see more of you.” + +“Good land!” thinkses I, “what can the man be a thinkin’ on? the mean, +miserable creeter! If there wuz ever a deadly insult gin to a woman, +then wuz the time it wuz gin. Good land! good land!” + +I don’t know whether Miss Flamm resented it, or not, for I hurried +Josiah along. I didn’t want to expose him to no sich sights, good, +innocent old creeter. So I kep’ him up on a pretty good jog till I got +him home. + +The next mornin’ Ardelia Tutt sent me over a copy of the followin’ +verses, which wuz as follers: + +“LINES WROTE ON A OLD WOMAN; OR, +STANZAS ON A ACKORDEUN. + +“Oh mournful sounds that riseth through the air, +Not very far, but far enough to hear. +We fain would say to thee forbear, forbear! +As we adown the road, our pathway steer. + +“Oh! had thy voice not been so low and thin +It would have been more high, and loud and deep— +And thine Ackordeun, oh could it, could it win, +A glorious voice of soul, methinks I’d weep— + +“With joy. But now I weep not, nay, nor fain +Would set me down beneath thy song-tree blest; +More fain I would relate, it giveth me pain +To list the strains, and listening lo! I sigh for rest, sweet rest. + +“For ah! no nightingale art thou, nor lark, +Nor thrush, nor any other bird, afar or nigh +Thy instrument hath not the thunder shock +That calleth nation’s wildly, wet or dry. + +“A lesson thou mightest learn oh! female sweet! +If thou no voice hast got, soar not in song, +Much noise the lonely aching ear doth greet, +That maketh sad, and ’tis a fearful wrong. + +“A fearful wrong to pound pianos with a fiendish will +Misuse them far above their feeble power to bear, +Ah! could pianos cower down, and lo! be still, +’Twould calm the savage breast, and smooth the brow of care.” + + + + +Chapter XVII. +A TRIP TO SCHUYLERVILLE. + + +It wuz a lovely mornin’ when my companion and me sot out to visit +Schuylerville to see the monument that is stood up there in honor of +the Battle of Saratoga, one of 7 great decisive battles of the world. + +Wall, the cars rolled on peacefully, though screechin’ occasionally, +for, as the poet says, “It is their nater to,” and rolled us away from +Saratoga. And at first there wuzn’t nothin’ particularly insperin’ in +the looks of the landscape, or ruther woodscape. It wuz mostly woods +and rather hombly woods too, kinder flat lookin’. But pretty soon the +scenery became beautiful and impressive. The rollin’ hills rolled down +and up in great billowy masses of green and pale blue, accordin’ as +they wuz fur or near, and we went by shinin’ water, and a glowin’ +landscape, and pretty houses, and fields of grain and corn, etc., etc. +And anon we reached a place where “Victory Mills” wuz printed up high, +in big letters. When Josiah see this, he sez, “Haint that neighborly +and friendly in Victory to come over here and put up a mill? That +shows, Samantha,” sez he, “that the old hardness of the Revolution is +entirely done away with.” + +He wuz jest full of Revolutionary thoughts that mornin’, Josiah Allen +wuz. And so wuz I too, but my strength of mind is such, that I reined +’em in and didn’t let ’em run away with me. And I told him that it +didn’t mean that. Sez I, “The Widder Albert wouldn’t come over here and +go to millin’, she nor none of her family.” + +“But,” sez he, “the name must mean sunthin’. Do you s’pose it is where +folks get the victory over things? If it is, I’d give a dollar bill to +get a grist ground out here, and,” sez he, in a sort of a coaxin’ tone, +“le’s stop and get some victory, Samantha.” + +And I told him, that I guessed when he got a victory over the world, +the flesh, or the—David, he would have to work for it, he wouldn’t get +it ground out for him. But anon, he cast his eyes on sunthin’ else and +so forgot to muse on this any further. It wuz a fair seen. + +Anon, a big manufactory, as big as the hull side of Jonesville almost, +loomed up by the side of us. And anon, the fair, the beautiful country +spread itself out before our vision. While fur, fur away the pale blue +mountains peeked up over the green ones, to see if they too could see +the monument riz up to our National Liberty. It belonged to them, jest +as much as to the hill it wuz a standin’ on, it belongs to the hull +liberty-lovin’ world. + +Wall, the cars stopped in a pretty little village, a clean, pleasant +little place as I ever see, or want to see. And Josiah and me wended +our way up the broad roomy street, up to where the monument seemed to +sort a beegon to us to come. And when we got up to it; we see it wuz a +sight, a sight to behold. + +The curius thing on’t wuz, it kep a growin’ bigger and bigger all the +time we wuz approachin’ it, till, as we stood at its base, it seemed to +tower up into the very skies. + +There wuz some flights of stun steps a leadin’ up to some doors in the +side on’t. And we went inside on’t after we had gin a good look at the +outside. But it took us some time to get through gazin’ at the outside +on’t. + +Way up over our heads wuz some sort a recesses, some like the recess in +my spare bed-room, only higher and narrower, and kinder nobler lookin’. +And standin’ up in the first one, a lookin’ stiddy through storm and +shine at the North star, stood General Gates, bigger than life +considerable, but none too big; for his deeds and the deeds of all of +our old 4 fathers stand out now and seem a good deal bigger than life. +Yes, take ’em in all their consequences, a sight bigger. + +Wall, there he stands, a leanin’ on his sword. He’ll be ready when the +enemy comes, no danger but what he will. + +On the east side, is General Schuyler a horsback, ready to dash forward +against the foe, impetuous, ardent, gallant. But oh! the perils and +dangers that obstruct his pathway; thick underbrush and high, tall +trees stand up round him that he seemin’ly can’t get through. + +But his gallant soldiers are a helpin’ him onward, they are a cuttin’ +down the trees so’s he can get through ’em and dash at the enemy. You +see as you look on him that he will get through it all. No envy, nor +detraction, nor jealousy, no such low underbrush full of crawlin’ +reptiles, nor no high solid trees, no danger of any sort can keep him +back. His big brave, generous heart is sot on helpin’ his country, +he’ll do it. + +On the south side, is the saddest sight that a patriotic American can +see. On a plain slab stun, lookin’ a good deal like a permanent +grave-stun, sot up high there, for Americans to weep over forever, +bitter tears of shames, is the name, “Arnold.” + +He wuz a brave soldier; his name ort to be there; it is all right to +have it there and jest where it is, on a gravestun. All through the +centuries it will stand there, a name carved by the hand of cupidity, +selfishness, and treachery. + +On the west side, General Morgan is standin’ up with his hands over his +eyes; lookin’ away into the sunset. He looked jest like that when he +wuz a lookin’ after prowlin’ red skins and red coats; when the sun wuz +under dark clouds, and the day wuz dark 100 years ago. + +But now, all he has to do is to stand up there and look off into the +glowin’ heavens, a watchin’ the golden light of the sun of Liberty a +rollin’ on westward. He holds his hand over his eyes; its rays most +blind him, he is most lost a thinkin’ how fur, how fur them rays are a +spreadin’, and a glowin’,way, way off, Morgan is a lookin’ onto our +future, and it dazzles him. Its rays stretch off into other lands; they +strike dark places; they burn! they glow! they shine! they light up the +world! + +Hold up your head, brave old General, and your loyal steadfast eyes. +You helped to strike that light. Its radience half-frights you. It is +so heavenly bright, its rays, may well dazzle you. Brown old soldiers, +I love to think of you always a standin’ up there, lifted high up by a +grateful Nation, a lookin’ off over all the world, a lookin’ off +towards the glowin’ west, toward our glorious future. + +On the inside too, it wuz a noble seen. After you rose up the steps and +went inside, you found yourself in a middlin’ big room all surrounded +by figures in what they called Alto Relief, or sunthin’ to that effect. +I don’t know what Alto they meant. I don’t know nobody by that name, +nor I don’t know how they relieved him. But I s’pose Alto when he wuz +there wuz relieved to think that the figures wuz all so noble and +impressive. Mebby he had been afraid they wouldn’t suit him and the +nation. But they did, they must have. He must have been hard to suit, +Alto must, if he wuzn’t relieved, and pleased with these. + +On one side wuz George the 3d of England, in his magnificent palace, +all dressed up in velvet and lace, surrounded by his slick drestup +nobles, and all of ’em a sittin’ there soft and warm, in the lap of +Luxury, a makin’ laws to bind the strugglin’ colonies. + +And right acrost from that, wuz a picture of them Colonists, cold and +hungry, a havin’ a Rally for Freedom, and a settin’ up a Town meetin! +right amongst the trees, and under-brush that hedged ’em all in and +tripped ’em up at every step; and savages a hidin’ behind the trees, +and fears of old England, and dread of a hazerdous unknown future, a +hantin’ and cloudin’ every glimpse of sky that came down on ’em through +the trees. But they looked earnest and good, them old 4 fathers did, +and the Town meetin’ looked determined, and firm principled as ever a +Town meetin’ looked on the face of the earth. + +Then there wuz some of the women of the court, fine ladies, all silk, +and ribbons, and embroideries, and paint, and powder, a leanin’ back in +their cushioned arm-chairs, a wantin’ to have the colonies taxed still +further so’s to have more money to buy lace with and artificial +flowers. And right acrost from ’em wuz some of our old 4 mothers, in a +rude, log hut, not strong enough to keep out the cold, or the Injuns. + +One wuz a cardin’ wools, one of ’em wuz a spinnin’ ’em, a tryin’ to +make clothes to cover the starved, half-naked old 4 fathers who wuz a +tramplin’ round in the snow with bare feet and shiverin’ lims. And one +of ’em had a gun in her hand. She had smuggled the children all in +behind her and she wuz a lookin’ out for the foe. These wimmen hadn’t +no ribbons on, no, fur from it. + +And then there wuz General Schuyler a fellin’ trees to obstruct the +march of the British army. And Miss Schuyler a settin’ fire to a field +of wheat rather than have it help the enemy of her country. Brave old 4 +mother, worthy pardner of a grand man, she wuz a takin’ her life in her +hand and a destroyin’ her own property for the sake of the cause she +loved. A emblem of the way men and women sot fire to their own hopes, +their own happiness, and burnt ’em up on the altar of the land we love. + +And there wuz some British wimmen a follerin’ their husbands through +the perils of danger and death, likely old 4 mothers they wuz, and +thought jest as much of their pardners as I do of my Josiah. I could +see that plain. And could see it a shinin’ still plainer in another one +of the pictures—Lady Aukland a goin’ over the Hudson in a little canoe +with the waves a dashin’ up high round her, to get to the sick bed of +her companion. The white flag of truce wuz a wavin’ over her head and +in her heart wuz a shinin’ the clear white light of a woman’s deathless +devotion. Oh! there wuz likely wimmen amongst the British, I haint a +doubt of it, and men too. + +And then we clim a long flight of stairs and we see some more pictures, +all round that room. Alto relieved agin, or he must have been relieved, +and happified to see ’em, they wuz so impressive. I myself had from 25 +to 30 emotions a minute while I stood a lookin’ at em—big lofty +emotions too. + +There waz Jennie McCrea a bein’ dragged offen her horse, and killed by +savages. A dreadful sight—a woman settin’ out light-hearted toward +happiness and goin’ to meet a fearful doom. Dreadful sight that has +come down through the centuries, and happens over and over agin amongst +female wimmen. But here it wuz fearful impressive for the savages that +destroyed her wuz in livin’ form, they haint always materialized. + +Yes, it wuz a awful seen. And jest beyond it, wuz Burgoyne a scoldin’ +the savages for the cruelty of the deed. Curius, haint it? How the acts +and deeds of a man that he sets to goin’, when they have come to full +fruition skare him most to death, horrify him by the sight. I’ll bet +Burgoyne felt bad enough, a lookin’ on her dead body, if it wuz his +doin’s in the first place, in lettin’ loose such ignerance and savagery +onto a strugglin’ people. + +Yes, Mr. Burgoyne felt bad and ashamed, I haint a doubt of it. His poet +soul could suffer as well as enjoy—and then I didn’t feel like sayin’ +too much aginst Mr. Burgoyne, havin’ meditated so lately in the +treachery of Arnold, one of our own men doin’ a act that ort to keep us +sort a humble-minded to this day. + +And then there wuz the killin’ and buryin’ of Frazier both impressive. +He wuz a gallant officer and a brave man. And then there wuz General +Schuyler (a good creeter) a turnin’ over his command to Gates. And I +methought to myself as I looked on it, that human nater wuz jest about +the same then; it capered jest about as it duz now in public affairs +and offices. Then there wuz the surrender of Burgoyne to Gates. A sight +impressive enough to furnish one with stiddy emotions for weeks and +weeks. A thinkin’ of all he surrendered to him that day, and all that +wuz took. + +The monument is dretful high. Up, up, up, it soars as if it wuz bound +to reach up into the very heavens, and carry up there these idees of +ourn about Free Rights, and National Liberty. It don’t go clear up, +though. I wish it did. If it had, I should have gone up the high ladder +clear to the top. But I desisted from the enterprise for 2 reasons, one +wuz, that it didn’t go, as I say, clear up, and the other wuz that the +stairs wuzn’t finished. + +Josiah proposed that he should go up as he clim up our well, with one +foot on each side on’t. He said he wuz tempted to, for he wanted +dretfully to look out of them windows on the top. And he said it would +probable be expected of him. And I told him that I guessed that the +monument wouldn’t feel hurt if he didn’t go up; I guessed it would +stand it. I discouraged the enterprise. + +And anon we went down out of the monument, and crossed over to the +good-lookin’ house where the man lives who takes care of the monument, +and shows off its good traits, a kind of a guardian to it. And we got a +first-rate dinner there, though such is not their practice. And then he +took us in a likely buggy with 2 seats, and a horse to draw it, and we +sot out to see what the march of 100 years has left us of the doin’s of +them days. + +Time has trampled out a good many of ’em, but we found some. We found +the old Schuyler mansion, a settin’ back amongst the trees, with the +old knocker on it, that had been pulled by so many a old 4 father, +carryin’ tidin’s of disappointment, and hope, and triumph, and +encouragement, and everything. We went over the threshold wore down by +the steps that had fell there for a hundred years, some light, some +heavy steps. + +We went into the clean, good-lookin’ old kitchen, with the platters, +and shinin’ dressers and trays; the old-fashioned settee, half-table +and half-seat. And we see the cup General Washington drinked tea out +of, good old creeter. I hope the water biled and it wuz good tea, and +most probable it wuz. And we see lots of arms that had been carried in +the war, and cannon balls, and shells, and tommy-hawks, and hatchets, +and arrows, and etc., etc. And down in one room all full of other +curiosities and relicts, wuz the skull of a _traitor_. I should judge +from the looks on’t that besides bein’ mean, he wuz a hombly man. +Somebody said folks had made efforts to steal it. But Josiah whispered +to me, that there wuzn’t no danger from him, for he would rather be +shet right up in the Tombs than to own it, in any way. + +And I felt some like him. Some of his teeth had been stole, so they +said. Good land! what did they want with his teeth! But it wuz a +dretful interestin’ spot. And I thought as I went through the big +square, roomy rooms that I wouldn’t swap this good old house for dozens +of Queen Anns, or any other of the fashionable, furbelowed houses of +to-day. The orniments of this house wuz more on the inside, and I +couldn’t help thinkin’ that this house, compared with the modern +ornimental cottages, wuz a good deal like one of our good old-fashioned +foremothers in her plain gown, compared with some of the grandma’s of +to-day, all paint, and furbelows, and false hair. + +The old 4 mothers orniments wuz on the inside, and the others wuz more +up on the roof, scalloped off and gingerbreaded, and criss-crossed. + +The old house wuz full of rooms fixed off beautiful. It wuz quite a +treat to walk throngh’em. But the old fireplaces, and mantle tray +shelves spoke to our hearts of the generations that had poked them +fires, and leaned up against them mantle trays. They went ahead on us +through the old rooms; I couldn’t see ’em, but I felt their presence, +as I follered ’em over the old thresholts their feet had worn down a +hundred years ago. Their feet didn’t make no sound, their petticoats +and short gowns didn’t rustle against the old door ways and stair +cases. + +The dear old grandpas in their embroidered coats, didn’t cast no shadow +as they crossed the sunshine that came in through the old-fashioned +window panes. No, but with my mind’s eye (the best eye I have got, and +one that don’t wear specks) I see ’em, and I follerd ’em down the +narrow, steep stair case, and out into the broad light of 4 P. M., +1886. + +Ghosts of the Past + +Anon, or shortly after, we drove up on a corner of the street jest +above where the Fish creek empties into the Hudson, and there, right on +a tall high brick block, wuz a tablet, showin’ that a tree once stood +jest there, under which Burgoyne surrendered. And agin, when I thought +of all that he surrendered that day, and all that America and the world +gained, my emotions riz up so powerful, that they wuzn’t quelled down a +mite, by seein’ right on the other side of the house wrote down these +words, “Drugs, Oils, etc.” + +No, oil couldn’t smooth ’em down, nor drugs drug ’em; they wuz too +powerful. And they lasted jest as soarin’ and eloquent as ever till we +turned down a cross street, and arrove at the place, jest the identical +spot where the British stacked their arms (and stacked all their pride, +and their ambitious hopes with ’em). It made a high pile. + +Wall, from there we went up to a house on a hill, where poor Baroness +Riedesel hid with her three little children, amongst the wounded and +dyin’ officers of the British army, and stayed there three days and +three nights, while shots and shells wuz a bombardin’ the little +house—and not knowin’ but some of the shots had gone through her lover +husband’s heart, before they struck the low ruff over her head. + +What do you s’pose she wuz a thinkin’ on as she lay hid in that suller +all them three days and three nights with her little girls’ heads in +her lap? Jest the same thoughts that a mother thinks to-day, as she +cowers down with the children she loves, to hide from danger; jest the +same thoughts that a wife thinks today when her heart is out a facing +danger and death, with the man she loves. + +She faced danger, and died a hundred deaths in the thought of the +danger to them she loved. I see the very splinters that the cruel +shells and cannon balls split and tore right over her head. Good +honorable splinters and not skairful to look at today, but hard, and +piercin’, and harrowin’ through them days and nights. + +Time has trampled over that calash she rode round so much in (I wish I +could a seen it); but Time has ground it down into dust. Time’s hand, +quiet but heavy, rested down on the shinin’ heads of the three little +girls, and their Pa and Ma, and pushed ’em gently but firmly down out +of sight; and all of them savages who used to follow that calash as it +rolled onwards, and all their canoes, and war hoops, and snowshoes, +etc., etc. + +Yes, that calash of Miss Riedesel has rolled away, rolled away years +ago, carryin’ the three little girls, their Pa and Ma and all the +fears, and hopes, and dreads, and joys, and heartaches of that time it +has rolled on with ’em all; on, on, down the dusty road of Oblivion,—it +has disappeared there round the turn of road, and a cloud of dust comes +up into our faces, as we try to follow it. And the Injuns that used to +howl round it, have all follered on the trail of that calash, and gone +on, on, out of sight. Their canoes have drifted away down the blue +Hudson, away off into the mist and the shadows. Curius, haint it? + +And there the same hills and valleys lay, calm and placid, there is the +same blue sparklin’ Hudson. Dretful curius, and sort a heart breakin’ +to think on’t—haint it? Only jest a few more years and we, too, shall +go round the turn of the road, out of sight, out of sight, and a cloud +of dust will come up and hide us from the faces of them that love us, +and them, too, from the eyes of a newer people. + +All our hopes, all our ambitious, all our loves, our joys, our +sorrows,—all, all will be rolled away or floated away down the river, +and the ripples will ripple on jest as happy; the Sunshine will kiss +the hills jest as warmly, and lovin’ly; but other eyes will look on +’em, other hearts will throb and burn within ’em at the sight. + +Kinder sad to think on, haint it? + +The Butgoynes + + + + +Chapter XVIII. +THE SOCIAL SCIENCE MEETING. + + +One day Josiah and me went into a meetin’ where they wuz kinder fixin’ +over the world, sort a repairin’ of it, as you may say. Some of the +deepest, smartest speeches I ever hearn in my life, I hearn there. + +You know it is a middlin’ deep subject. But they rose to it. They rose +nobly to it. Some wuz for repairin’ it one way, and some another—some +wanted to kinder tinker it up, and make it over like. Some wanted to +tear it to pieces, and build it over new. But they all meant well by +the world, and nobody could help respectin’ ’em. + +I enjoyed them hours there with ’em, jest about as well as it is in my +power to enjoy anything. They wuz all on ’em civilized Christian folks +and philanthropists of different shades and degrees, all but one. There +wuz one heathen there. A Hindoo right from Hindoostan, and I felt +kinder sorry for him. A heathen sot right in the midst of them folks of +refinement, and culture, who had spent their hull lives a tryin’ to fix +over the world, and make it good. + +This poor little heathen, with a white piller case, or sunthin’ wound +round his head (I s’pose he hadn’t money to buy a hat), and his small +black eyes lookin’ out kinder side ways from his dark hombly little +face, rousted up my pity, and my sympathy. There had been quite a firm +speech made against allowin’ foreigners on our shores. And this little +heathen, in his broken speech, said, It all seemed so funny to him, +when everybody wuz foreigners in this country, to think that them that +got here first should say they owned it, and send everybody else back. +And he said, It seemed funny to him, that the missionarys we sent over +to his land to teach them the truth, told them all about this land of +Liberty, where everybody wuz free, and everybody could earn a home for +themselves, and urged ’em all to come over here, and then when they +broke away from all that held ’em in their own land, and came thousands +and thousands of milds, to get to this land of freedom and +religion,then they wuz sent back agin, and wuzn’t allowed to land. It +seemed so funny. + +And so it did to me. And I said to myself, I wonder if they don’t lose +all faith in the missionarys, and what they tell them. I wonder if they +don’t have doubts about the other free country they tell ’em about. The +other home they have urged ’em to prepare for, and go to. I wonder if +they haint afraid, that when they have left their own country and +sailed away for that home of Everlastin’ freedom, they will be sent +back agin, and not allowed to land. + +But it comferted me quite a good deal to meditate on’t, that that land +didn’t have no laws aginst foreign emigration. That its ruler wuz one +who held the rights of the lowest, and poorest, and most ignerent of +His children, of jest as much account as he did the rights of a king. +Thinkses I that poor little head with the piller case on it will be +jest as much looked up to, as if it wuz white and had a crown on it. +And I felt real glad to think it wuz so. + +But I went to every meetin’ of ’em, and enjoyed every one of ’em with a +deep enjoyment. And I said then, and I say now, for folks that had took +such a hefty job as they had, they done well, nobody could do better, +and if the world wuzn’t improved by their talk it wuz the fault of the +world, and not their’n. + +And we went to meetin’ on Sunday mornin’ and night, and hearn good +sermons. There’s several high big churches at Saratoga, of every +denomination, and likely folks belong to the hull on ’em: There is no +danger of folks losin’ their way to Heaven unless they want to, and +they can go on their own favorite paths too, be they blue Presbyterian +paths, or Methodist pasters, or by the Baptist boat, or the +Episcopalian high way, or the Catholic covered way, or the Unitarian +Broadway, or the Shadow road of Spiritualism. + +No danger of their losin’ their way unless they want to. And I thought +to myself as I looked pensively at the different steeples, “What though +there might be a good deal of’wranglin’, and screechin’, and puffin’ +off steam, at the different stations, as there must always be where so +many different routes are a layin’ side by side, each with its own +different runners, and conductors, and porters, and managers, and +blowers, still it must be, that the separate high ways would all end at +last in a serener road, where the true wayfarers and the earnest +pilgrims would all walk side by side, and forget the very name of the +station they sot out from. + +I sez as much to my companion, as we wended our way home from one of +the meetin’s, and he sez, “There haint but one right way, and it is a +pity folks can’t see it.” Sez he a sithin’ deep, “Why can’t everybody +be Methodists?” + +We wuz a goin’ by the ’Piscopal church then, and he sez a lookin’ at +it, as if he wuz sorry for it, “What a pity that such likely folks as +they be, should believe in such eronious doctrines. Why,” sez he, “I +have hearn that they believe that the bread at communion is changed +into sunthin’ else. What a pity that they should believe anything so +strange as that is, when there is a good, plain, practical, Christian +belief that they might believe in, when they might be Methodists. And +the Baptists now,” sez he, a glancin’ back at their steeple, “why can’t +they believe that a drop is as good as a fountain? Why do they want to +believe in so _much_ water? There haint no need on’t. They might be +Methodists jest as well as not, and be somebody.” + +And he walked along pensively and in deep thought, and I a feelin’ +somewhat tuckered didn’t argue with him, and silence rained about us +till we got in front of the hall where the Spiritualists hold their +meetin’s, and we met a few a comin’ out on it and then he broke out and +acted mad, awful mad and skernful, and sez he angrily, “Them dumb fools +believe in supernatural things. They don’t have a shadow of reason or +common sense to stand on. A man is a fool to gin the least attention to +them, or their doin’s. Why can’t they believe sunthin’ sensible? Why +can’t they jine a church that don’t have anything curius in it? Nothin’ +but plain, common sense facts in it: Why can’t they be Methodists?” + +“The idee!” sez he, a breakin’ out fresh. “The idee of believin’ that +folks that have gone to the other world can come back agin and appear. +Shaw!” sez he, dretful loud and bold. I don’t believe I ever heard a +louder shaw in my life than that wuz, or more kinder haughty and +highheaded. + +And then I spoke up, and sez, “Josiah, it is always well, to shaw in +the right place, and I am afraid you haint studied on it as much as you +ort. I am afraid you haint a shawin’ where you ort to.” + +“Where should I shaw?” sez he, kinder snappish. + +“Wall,” sez I, “when you condemn other folkses beliefs, you ort to be +careful that you haint a condemin’ your own belief at the same time. +Now my belief is grounded in the Methodist meetin’ house like a rock; +my faith has cast its ancher there inside of her beliefs and can’t be +washed round by any waves of opposin’ doctrines. But I am one who can’t +now, nor never could, abide bigotry and intolerance either in a Pope, +or a Josiah Allen. + +“And when you condemn a belief simply on the ground of its bein’ +miraculous and beyond your comprehension, Josiah Allen, you had better +pause and consider on what the Methodist faith is founded. + +“All our orthodox meetin’ houses, Presbyterian, Baptist, Methodist, +Episcopalian, every one on ’em, Josiah Allen, are sot down on a belief, +a deathless faith in a miraculous birth, a life of supernatural events, +the resurrection of the dead, His appearance after death, a belief in +the graves openin’ and the dead comin’ forth, a belief in three persons +inhabitin’ one soul, the constant presence and control of spiritual +influences, the Holy Ghost, and the spirits of just men. And while you +are a leanin’ up against that belief, Josiah Allen, and a leanin’ +heavy, don’t shaw at any other belief for the qualities you hold sacred +in your own.” + +He quailed a very little, and I went on. + +“If you want to shaw at it, shaw for sunthin’ else in it, or else let +it entirely alone. If you think it lacks active Christian force, if you +think it is not aggressive in its assaults at Sin, if you think it +lacks faith in the Divine Head of the church, say so, do; but for +mercy’s sake _try_ to shaw in the right place.” + +“Wall,” sez he, “they are a low set that follers it up mostly, and you +know it.” And his head was right up in the air, and he looked _very_ +skernful. + +But I sez, “Josiah Allen, you are a shawin’ agin in the wrong place,” +sez I. “If what you say is true, remember that 1800 years ago, the same +cry wuz riz up by Pharisees, ‘He eats with Publicans and sinners.’ They +would not have a king who came in the guise of the poor, they scerned a +spiritual truth that did not sparkle with worldly lustre. + +“But it shone on; it lights the souls of humanity to-day. Let us not be +afraid, Josiah Allen. Truth is a jewel that _cannot_ be harmed by +deepest investigation, by roughest handlin’. It can’t be buried, it +will shine out of the deepest darkness. What is false will be washed +away, what is true will remain. For all this frettin’, and chafing, all +this turbelence of conflectin’ beliefs, opposin’ wills, will only +polish this jewel. Truth, calm and serene, will endure, will shine, +will light up the world.” + +He begun to look considerable softer in mean, and I continued on: +“Josiah Allen, you and I know what we believe the beautiful religion +(Methodist Episcopal) that we both love, makes a light in our two +souls. But don’t let us stand in that light and yell out, that +everybody else’s light is darkness; that our light is the only one. No, +the heavens are over all the earth; the twelve gates of heaven are open +and a shinin’ down on all sides of us. + +“Jonesville meetin’ house (Methodist Episcopal) haint the only medium +through which the light streams. It is dear to us, Josiah Allen, but +let us not think that we must coller everybody and drag ’em into it. +And let us not cry out too much at other folkses superstitions, when +the rock of our own faith, that comforts us in joy and sorrow, is sot +in a sea of supernaturalism. + +“You know how that faith comforts our two souls, how it is to us, like +the shadow of a great rock in a weary land, but they say, their belief +is the same to them, let us not judge them too hardly. No, the twelve +gates of heaven are open, Josiah Allen, and a shinin’ down onto the +earth. We know the light that has streamed into our own souls, but we +do not know exactly what rays of radience may have been reflected down +into some other lives through some one of those many gates. + +“The plate below has to be prepared, before it can ketch the picture +and hold it. The light does not strike back the same reflection from +every earthly thing. The serene lake mirrors back the light, in a calm +flood of glory, the flashin’ waterfall breaks it into a thousand +dazzlin’ sparkles. The dewy petal of the yellow field lily, reflects +its own ray of golden light back, so does the dark cone of the pine +tree, and the diamond, the opal, the ruby, each tinges the light with +its own coloring, but the light is all from above. And they all reflect +the light, in their own way for which the Divine skill has prepared +them. + +“Let us not try to compel the deep blue Ocean waves and the shinin’ +waterfall, and the lily blow, to reflect back the light, in the same +identical manner. No, let the light stream down into high places, and +low ones, let the truth shine into dark hearts, and into pure souls. +God is light. God is Love. It is His light that shines down out of the +twelve gates, and though the ruby, or the amethyst, may color it by +their own medium, the light that is reflected, back is the light of +Heaven. And Josiah Allen,” sez I in a deeper, earnester tone, “let us +who know so little ourselves, be patient with other ignerent ones. Let +us not be too intolerent, for no intolerence, Josiah Allen is so cruel +as that of ignerence, an’ stupidity.” + +Sez Josiah, “I won’t believe in anything I can’t _see_, Samantha +Allen.” + +I jest looked round at him witheringly, and sez I, “What _have_ you +ever seen, Josiah Allen, I mean that is worth sein’? Haint everything +that is worth havin’ in life, amongst the unseen? The deathless loves, +the aspirations, the deep hopes, and faiths, that live in us and +through us, and animate us and keep us alive,—Whose spectacles has ever +seen ’em? What are we, all of us human creeters, any way, but little +atoms dropped here, Heaven knows why, or how, into the midst of a +perfect sea of mystery, and unseen influences. What hand shoved us +forwards out of the shadows, and what hand will reach out to us from +the shadows and draw us back agin? Have you seen it Josiah Allen? You +have felt this great onseen force a movin’ you along, but you haint sot +your eyes on it. + +“What is there above us, below us, about us, but a waste of mystery, a +power of onseen influences?. + +“You won’t believe anything you can’t see:—Did you ever see old +Gravity, Josiah Allen, or get acquainted with him? Yet his hands hold +the worlds together. Who ever see the mysterious sunthin’ in the North +that draws the ship’s compass round? Who ever see that great mysterious +hand that is dropped down in the water, sweepin’ it back and forth, +makin’ the tides come in, and the tides go out? Who ever has ketched a +glimpse of them majestic fingers, Josiah Allen? Or the lips touched +with lightnin’, whose whispers reach round the world, and through the +Ocean? You haint see ’em, nor I haint, No, Josiah Allen, we don’t know +much of anything, and we don’t know that for certain. We are all on us +only poor pupils down in the Earth’s school-room, learnin’ with +difficulty and heart ache the lessons God sets for us. + +Tough old Experience gives us many a hard floggin’, before we learn the +day’s lessons. And we find the benches hard, long before sundown. And +it makes our hearts ache to see the mates we love droop their too tired +heads in sleep, all round us before school is out. But we grind on at +our lessons, as best we may. Learnin’ a little maybe. Havin’ to onlearn +a sight, as the pinters move on towards four. Clasping hands with +fellow toilers and (hard task) onclaspin’ ’em, as they go up above us, +or down nearer the foot. Havin’ little ‘intermissions’ of enjoyment, +soon over. But we plod on, on, and bimeby—and sometimes we think we do +not care how soon—the teacher will say to us, that we can be +‘dismissed.’ And then we shall drop out of the rank of learners, and +the school will go without us, jest as busily, jest as cheerfully, jest +as laboriously, jest as sadly. Poor learners at the hard lessons of +life. Learnin’ out of a book that is held out to us from the shadows by +an onseen, inexorable hand. Settin’ on hard benches that may fall out +from under us at any time. Poor ignerent creeters that we are, would it +not be a too arrant folly for us to judge each other hardly, we, all on +us, so deplorably ignerent, so weakly helpless?” + +Sez Josiah, in earnest axcents, “Le’s walk a little faster.” + +And, in lookin’ up, I see that he wuz readin’ a advertisement. I +ketched sight of a picture ornamentin’ of it. It wuz Lydia Pinkham. And +as I see that benine face, I found and recovered myself. Truly, I had +been a soarin’ up, up, fur above Saratoga, Patent Medicines, Josiah +Allen, etc., etc. + +But when I found myself by the side of Josiah Allen once more, I moved +onwards in silence, and soon we found ourselves right by the haven +where I desired to be,—our own tried and true boardin’ house. + +Truly eloquence is tuckerin’, very, especially when you are a soarin’ +and a walkin’ at the same time. + +Josiah + + + + +Chapter XIX. +ST. CHRISTINA’S HOME. + + +Wall, it wuz that very afternoon, almost immegetly after dinner, that +Josiah Allen invited me warmly to go with him to the Roller Coaster. +And I compromised the matter by his goin’ with us first to St. +Christina’s Home, and then, I told him, I would proceed with him to the +place where he would be. They wuz both on one road, nigh to each other, +and he consented after some words. + +I felt dretfully interested in this Home, for it is a place where poor +little sick children are took to, out of their miserable, stiflin’, +dirty garrets, and cellars, and kep’ and made well and happy in their +pleasant, home-like surroundin’s. And I thought to myself, as I looked +ont on the big grounds surroundin’ it, and walked through the clean +wide rooms, that the change to these children, brought out of their +narrow dark homes of want and woe, into this great sunshiny Home with +its clean fresh rooms, its good food, its cheery Christian atmosphere, +its broad sunshiny playgrounds, must seem like enterin’ Paradise to +’em. + +And I thought to myself how thankful I wuz that this pleasant House +Beautiful, wuz prepared for the rest and refreshment of the poor little +pilgrims, worn out so early in the march of life. And I further +thinkses I, “Heaven bless the kind heart that first thought on’t, and +carried out the heavenly idee.” + +The children’s faces all looked, so happy, and bright, it wuz a treat +to see ’em. And the face of the sister who showed us round the rooms +looked as calm, and peaceful, and happy, as if her face wuz the sun +from which their little lights wuz reflected. + +Up amongst the rooms overhead, every one on ’em clean as a pin and +sweet and orderly, wuz one room that specially attracted my attention. +It wuz a small chapel where the little ones wuz took to learn their +prayers and say ’em. It wuzn’t a big, barren barn of a room, such as I +have often seen in similar places, and which I have always thought must +impress the children with a awful sense of the immensity and +lonesomeness of space, and the intangebility, and distance of the Great +Spirit who inhabiteth Eternity. No, it wuz small, and cozy, and +cheerful, like a home. And the stained glass window held a beautiful +picture of love and charity, which might well touch the children’s +hearts, sweetly and unconsciously, with the divine worth of love, and +beauty, and goodness. + +And I could fancy the dear, little ones kneelin’ here, and prayin’ “Our +Father, who art in Heaven,” and feelin’ that He wuz indeed their +Father, and not a stranger, and that Heaven wuz not fur off from ’em. + +And I thought to myself “Never! never! through all their life will they +get entirely away from the pure, sweet lessons they learn here.” + +I enjoyed the hour I spent here with a deep, heart enjoyment, and so +did Josiah. Or, that is, I guess he did, though he whispered to me from +time to time, or even oftener, as we went through the buildin’, that we +wuz a devourin’ time that we might be spendin’ at the Roller Coaster. + +Wall, at last, greatly to my pardner’s satisfaction, we sot out for the +place where he fain would be. On our way there we roamed through +another Indian Encampment, a smaller one than that where we had the +fearful incident of the Mermaid and Sarah. + +No, it wuzn’t so big, but it had many innocent diversions and a +photograph gallery, and other things for its comfert. And a standin’ up +a leanin’ aginst a tree, by one of the little houses stood a Injun. He +wuz one of the last left of his tribe. He seemed to be a lookin’ +pensively on—and seein’ how the land that had belonged to ’em, the +happy huntin’-grounds, the springs they believed the Great Spirit had +gin to ’em, had all passed away into the bands of another race. + +I wuz sorry for that Injun, real sorry. And thinkses I to myself, we +feel considerable pert now, and lively, but who knows in another three +or four hundred years, but what one of the last of our race, may be a +leanin’ up aginst some new tree, right in the same spot, a watchin’ the +old places passed away into other hands, mebby black hands, or some +other colored ones; mebby yellow ones, who knows? I don’t, nor Josiah +don’t. But my pardner wuz a hurryin’ me on, so I dropped my revery and +my umberell in my haste to foller on after his footsteps. + +Josiah picked up my umberell, but he couldn’t pick up my soarin’ +emotions for me. No, he haint never been able, to get holt of ’em. But +suffice it to say, that soon, preceded by my companion, I found myself +a mountin’ the nearly precipitus stairs, that led to the Roller +Coaster. + +The Rollercoaster + +And havin’ reached the spot, who should we find there but Ardelia Tutt +and Bial Flamburg. They had been on the Roller Coaster seven times in +succession, and the car. And they wuz now a sittin’ down to recooperate +their energies, and collect their scattered wits together. The Roller +Coaster is _very_ scatterin’ to wits that are not collected firm and +sound, and cemented by strong common sense. + +The reason why the Roller Coaster don’t scatter such folkses wits is +supposed to be because, they don’t go on to it. Ardelia looked as if +her idees wuz scattered to the four pints of the compass. As for Bial, +it seemed to me, as if he never had none to scatter. But he spoke out +to once, and said, he didn’t care to ride on ’em. (Bial Flamburg’s +strong pint, is his truthfulness, I can’t deny that.) + +Ardelia wouldn’t own up but what she enjoyed it dretfully. You know +folks are most always so. If they partake of a pleasure and recreation +that is doubtful in its effects, they will always say, what a high +extreme of enjoyment they enjoyed a partakin’ of it. Curius, haint it? +Wall, Josiah had been anticipatin’ so much enjoyment from the exercise, +that I didn’t make no move to prevent him from embarkin’ on it—though +it looked hazardous and dangerous in the extreme. + +I looked down on the long valleys, and precipitous heights of the +assents and desents, in which my pardner wuz so soon to be assentin’ +and desentin’ and I trembled, and wuz jest about to urge him to forego +his diversion, for the sake of his pardner’s happiness, but as I turned +to expostulate with him, I see the beautiful, joyous, hopeful look on +his liniment, and the words fell almost dead on my tongue. I felt that +I had ruther suffer in silence than to say one word to mar that bliss. + +Such is the love of pardners, and such is some of the agonies they +suffer silently to save from woundin’ the more opposite one. No, I said +not a word; but silently sat, and see him makin’ his preparations to +embark. He see the expression onto my face, and he too wuz touched by +it. He never said one word to me about embarkin’ too, which I laid to +two reasons. One wuz my immovable determination not to embark on the +voyage, which I had confided to him before. + +And the other wuz, the added expenses of the journey if he took his +companion with him. + +No, I felt that he thought it wuz better we should part temporarily +than that the expenditure should be doubled. But as the time drew near +for him to leave me, I see by his meen that he felt bad about leavin’ +me. He realized what a companion I had been to him. He realized the +safety and repose he had always found at my side and the unknown +dangers he wuz a rushin’ into. + +And he got up and silently shook hands with me. He would have kissed +me, I make no doubt, if folks hadn’t been a standin’ by. He then +embarked, and with lightnin’ speed wuz bore away from me, as he +dissapeared down the desent, his few gray hairs waved back, and as he +went over the last precipitus hill, I heard him cry out in agonizin’ +axents, “Samantha! Samantha!” + +And I rushed forwards to his rescue but so lightnin’ quick wuz their +movements that I met my companion a comin’ back, and I sez, the first +thing, “I heard your cry, Josiah! I rushed to save you, my dear +pardner.” + +“Yes,” sez he, “I spoke out to you, to call your attention to the +landscape, over the woods there!” + +I looked at him in a curious, still sort of a way, and didn’t say +nothin’ only just that look. Why, that man looked all trembly and broke +up, but he kep’ on. + +“Yes, it wuz beautiful and inspirin’, and I knew you wuz such a case +for landscapes, I thought I would call your attention to it.” + +Sez I, coldly, “You wuz skairt, Josiah Allen, and you know it.” + +“Skairt! the idee of me bein’ skairt. I wuz callin’ your attention to +the beauty of the view, over in the woods.” + +“What wuz it?” sez I, still more coldly; for I can’t bear deceit, and +coverin’ up. + +“Oh, it wuz a house, and a tree, and a barn, and things.” + +“A great seen to scream about,” sez I. “It would probable have stood +there till you got back, but you couldn’t seem to wait.” + +“No, I have noticed that you always wanted to see things to once. I +have noticed it in you.” + +“I could most probable have waited till you got back, to see a house +and a tree.” And in still more—frigid axents, I added, “Or a barn.” And +I sez, kinder sarkastikly, “You enjoyed your ride, I s’pose.” + +“Immensely, it wuz perfectly beautiful! So sort a free and soarin’ +like. It is jest what suits a man.” + +“You’d better go right over it agin,” sez I. + +“Yes,” sez the man who runs the cars. “You’d better go agin.” + +“Oh no,” sez Josiah. + +“Why not?” sez I. + +“Why not?” sez the man. + +Josiah Allen looked all around the room, and down on the grass, as if +trying to find a good reasonable excuse a layin’ round loose somewhere, +so’s he could get holt of it. + +“You’d better go,” sez I, “I love to see you happy, Josiah Allen.” + +“Yes, you’d better go,” sez the man. + +“No!” sez Josiah, still a lookin’ round for a excuse, up into the +heavens and onto the horizon. And at last his face kinder brightenin’ +up, as if he had found one: “No, it looks so kinder cloudy, I guess I +won’t go. I think we shall have rain between now and night.” And so we +said no more on the subject and sot out homewards. + +Ardelia wrote a poem on the occasion, wrote it right there, with +rapidity and a lead pencil, and handed it to me, before I left the +room. I put it into my pocket and didn’t think on it, for some days +afterwards. + +That night after we got home from the Roller Coaster, I felt dretful +sort a down hearted about Abram Gee, I see in that little incident of +the day, that Bial, although I couldn’t like him, yet I see he had his +good qualities, I see how truthful he wuz. And although I love truth—I +fairly worship it—yet I felt that if things wuz as he said they wuz, he +would more’n probable get Ardelia Tutt, for I know the power of +Ambition in her, and I felt that she would risk the chances of +happiness, for the name of bein’ a Banker’s Bride. + +So I sat there in deep gloom, and a chocolate colored wrapper, till as +late as half past nine o’clock P. M. And I felt that the course of +Abram’s love wuz not runnin’ smooth. No, I felt that it wuz runnin’ in +a dwindlin’ torrent over a rocky bed, and a precipitus one. And I felt +that if he wuz with me then and there, if we didn’t mingle our tears +together we could our sithes, for I sithed, powerful and frequent. + +Poor short-sighted creeter that I wuz, a settin’ in the shadow, when +the sun wuz jest a gettin’ ready to shine out onto Abram and reflect +off onto my envious heart. Even at that very time the hand of righteous +Retribution had slipped its sure noose over Bial Flamburg’s neck, and +wuz a walkin’ him away from Ardelia, away from happiness (oritory). + +At that very hour, half past nine P. M., Ardelia Tutt and Abram Gee had +met agin, and rosy love and happiness wuz even then a stringin’ roses +on the chain that wuz to bind ’em together forever. + +The way on’t wuz: It bein’ early when Ardelia got here, Bial proposed +to take her out for a drive and she consented. He got a livery horse, +and buggy, and they say that the livery man knew jest what sort of a +creeter the horse wuz, and knew it wuz liable to break the buggy all to +pieces and them to, and he let ’em have it for goin.’ But howsumever, +whether that is so or not, when they got about five or six milds from +Saratoga the horse skeert out of the road, and throwed ’em both out. + +It wuz a bank of sand that skeert it, a high bank that wuz piled up by +a little hovel that stood by the side of the road. The ground all round +the hut wuz too poor to raise anything else but sand, and had raised +sights of that. + +A man and woman, dretful shabby lookin’, wuz a standin’ by the door of +the hut, and the man had a shovel in his hand, and had been a loadin’ +sand into a awful big wheelbarrow that wuz a standin’ by—seemin’ly +ready to carry it acrost the fields, to where some man wuz a mixin’ +some motar, to lay the foundations of a barn. + +Wall, the old man stood a pantin’ by the side of the wheelbarrow, as if +he had indeed got on too heavy a load. It wuz piled up high. The horse +shied, and Ardelia wuz throwed right out onto the bank of sand, Bial by +the side of her. And the old man and woman came a runnin’ up, and +callin’ out, “Bial, my son, my son, are you wounded?” + +The Accident + +And there it all wuz. Ardelia see the hull on it. The Banker wuz before +her, and she wuz a layin’ on the bank. And the banker wuz a doin’ a +heavy business, if anybody doubted it, let ’em take holt and cart a +load on it acrost the fields. + +Wall, Ardelia wuz jarred fearful, in her heart, her ambition, her +pride, and her bones. And as the horse wuz a fleein’ far away, and no +other conveyance could be found to transport her to the next house +(Ardelia wouldn’t go into his’n), and night wuz approachin’ with rapid +strides, the old Banker jest unloaded the load of sand (good old +creeter, he would have to load it all over agin), and took Ardelia into +the wheelbarrow, and wheeled her over to the next house and unloaded +her. + +Ardelia in the wheelbarrow + +The old Banker told Ardelia that when his neighbor got home he would +take her back to Saratoga, which he did. He had been to the village for +necessaries, but he turned right round and carried her back to Mr. +Pixleyses. And I s’pose Ardelia paid him, mebby as high as 75 cents. As +for Bial, he tramped off into the house, and she didn’t see him agin, +nor didn’t want to. Wall, I s’pose it wuz durin’ that ride on the +wheelbarrow, that Ardelia’s ambition quelled to softer emotions. I +s’pose so. She never owned it right up to me, but I s’pose so. + +Bial Flamburg hadn’t lied a word to her. In all her agony she realized +that. But she had built a high towerin’ structure of ambition on what +he said, and it had tottered. And as is natural in times of danger, the +heart turns instinctively to its true love, she thought of Abram Gee, +she wanted him. And as if in answer to her deep and lovin’ thought, who +should come out to the buggy to help her out at Mr. Pixleyses gate, but +Abram Gee? He had come unexpected, and on the eight o’clock train, and +wuz there waitin’ for her. + +If Bial Flamburg had been with her, he wouldn’t have gone a nigh the +buggy, but he see it was a old man, and he rushed out. Ardelia couldn’t +walk a step on her feet (owin’ to bein shaken up, in bones and +feelin’s), and Abram jest took her in his strong lovin’ arms and +carried her into the house, and she sort a clung round his neck, and +seemed tickled enough to see him, + +But she wuz dretful shook up and agitated, and it wuzn’t till way along +in the night some time, that she wuz able to write a poem called, “a +lay on a wheelbarrow; or, the fallen one.” + +Which I thought when I read it, wuz a good name for it, for truly she +had fell, and truly she had lay on it. Howsumever, Ardelia wrote that +jest because it wuz second nater to write poetry on every identical +thing she ever see or did. + +She wuz glad enough to get rid of Bial Flamburg, and glad enough to go +back to her old love. Abram wuz too manly and tender to say a word to +Ardelia that night on the subject nearest to his heart. No, he see she +needed rest. But the next day, when they wuz alone together, I s’pose +he put the case all before her. All his warm burnin’ love for her, all +his jealousy, and his wretchedness while she wuz a waverin’ between +Banks and Bread, how his heart had been checked by the thought that +Bial would vault over him, and in the end hold him at a discount. + +Why, I s’pose he talked powerful and melted Ardelia’s soft little heart +till it wuz like the softest kind of dough in his hands. And then he +went on tenderly to say, how he needed her, and how she could mould him +to her will. I s’pose he talked well, and eloquent, I s’pose so. Anyhow +she accepted him right there in full faith and a pink and white cambric +dress. + +And they came over and told me about it in the afternoon P. M. And I +felt well and happy in my mind, and wished ’em joy with a full heart +and a willin’ mind. + +They are both good creeters. And she bein’ so soft, and he so kinder +hardy and stout-hearted, I believe they will get along firstrate. And +when she once let her mind and heart free to think on him, she worships +him so openly and unreservedly (though soft), that I don’t, believe +there is a happier man in the hull country. + +Wall, I lay out to give’em a handsome present when they be married, +which will be in the fall. Mother Gee (who has got as well as can be +expected) is goin’ to live with Susan. And I’m glad on’t. Mother Gee is +a good old female no doubt, but it is resky work to take a new husband +to live with, and when you take a mother-in-law too it adds to the +resk. + +But she is goin’ to live with Susan; it is her prefference. + +And Abram has done so well, that he has bought another five acres onto +his place, and is a goin’ to fix his house all over splendid before the +weddin’ day. And Ardelia is to go right from the altar to her home—it +is her own wishes. + +She knows enough in her way, Ardelia duz. And she has a wisdom of the +heart which sometimes I think, goes fur ahead of the wisdom of the +head. And then agin, I think they go well together, wisdom of the head +and the heart too. (The times I think this is after readin’ her +poetry.) + +But any way she will make Abram a good soft little wife, lovin’ and +affectionate always. And good land! he loves her to that extent that it +wouldn’t make no difference to him if she didn’t know enough to come in +when it rained. He would fetch her in, drippin’ and worship her, damp +or dry. + +Them verses of Ardelia’s, that she handed me, by the Roller Coaster wuz +as follows— + +“A LAY ON A ROLLER COASTER +“BY ARDELIA TUTT. + +“Oh was thy track all straight, and smooth like glass +Thou couldest not mount the hills, and lo, the dells, +The hills and dells oh! Roller Coaster pass +In peace, believing all things well. + +“The hills of life go down, and mount elate +We mount or sink on them, as case may be +All seated on the wagon seat of life— +A holdin’ on in peace, or screamin’ fearfulee. + +“Hold then thy breath, and go, e’en up or down, +Hold to the seat, and hold to royal hope, +Hope for the best, so shalt thou wear a crown, +A clinging hope to hold, is better than a rope. + +“Mount then the Mounts, Oh Roller Coaster mount, +And sink then in the dells with brow serene; +’Tis no disgrace to sink a spell, we count +Him coward, knave, who floats and calls it mean.” + + +Ardelia always will stand up for Josiah Allen, and I am glad on’t. I +should jest as soon be jealous of one of Josiah’s gingham neckties, one +of the thinnest and stringiest ones, as to be jealous of her. She means +well, Ardelia duz. + + + + +Chapter XX. +AN ACCIDENT WITH RESULTS. + + +Wall, it wuz on the very day before we laid out to leave for home. I +wuz a settin’ in my room a mendin’ up a rip in my pardner’s best coat, +previous to packin’ in his trunk, when all of a sudden Miss Flamm’s +hired girl came in a cryin’, and sez I, “What is the matter?” + +And sez she, “Ah! Miss Flamm has sent for you and Mr. Allen to come +over there right away. There has been a axident.” + +“A axident!” sez I. + +“Yes,” sez she. “The little girl has got hurt, and they don’t think she +will live. Poor little pretty thing,” sez the hired girl, and busted +out a cryin’ agin. + +“How did she get hurt?” sez I, as I laid down the coat, and went to +tyin’ on my bunnet mekanically. + +“Wall, the nurse had her out with the baby and the little boys. And we +s’pose she had been drinkin’ too much. We all knew she drinked, and she +wuzn’t in a condition to go out with the children this mornin’, and +Miss Flamm would have noticed it and kep’ ’em in, but the dog wuz sick +all night, and Miss Flamm wuz up with it most all night, and she felt +wore out this mornin’ with her anxtety for the dog, and her want of +sleep, and so they went out, and it wuzn’ more’n half an hour before it +took place. She left the baby carriage and the little boys and girl in +a careless place, not knowin’ what she wuz about, and they got run +over. The baby and the little boys wuzn’t hurt much, but they think the +little girl will die. Miss Flamm went right into a caniption fit,” sez +she, “when she wuz brung in.” + +“It is a pity she hadn’t went into one before,” sez I very dryly, dry +as a chip almost. My axents wuz fairly dusty they wuz so dry. But my +feelin’s for Miss Flamm moistened up and melted down when I see her, +when we went into the room. It didn’t take us long for they are still +to the tarven, and we met Josiah Allen at the door, so he went with us. + +Yes, Miss Flamm felt bad enough, bad enough. She has got a mother’s +heart after all, down under all the strings and girtins, and laces, and +dogs, etc., etc., that have hid it, and surrounded it. Her face wuz +jest as white and deathly as the little girl’s, and that wuz jest the +picture of stillness and death. And I remembered then that I had heard +that the little girl wuz her favorite amongst her children, whenever +she had any time to notice ’em. She wuz a only daughter and a beauty, +besides bein’ smart. + +The doctor had been there and done what he could, and go gone away. He +said there wuz nothin’ more to do till she came out of that stuper, if +she ever did. + +But it looked like death, and there Miss Flamm sot alone with her +child, and her conscience. She wuzn’t a cryin’ but there wuz a look in +her eyes, in her set white face that went beyond tears, fur beyond ’em. +She gripped holt of my hand with her icy cold ones, and sez she, “Pray +for me!” She wuz brung up a Methodist, and knew we wuz the same. My +feelin’s overcame me as I looked in her face and the child’s, both +lookin’ like dyin’ faces, and I sez with the tears a jest runnin’ down +my cleeks and a layin’ my hand tender on her shoulder, “Is there +anything I can do for you, you poor little creeter?” + +“Pray for me,” sez she agin, with her white lips not movin’ in a smile, +nor a groan. + +Now my companion, Josiah Allen, is a class-leader, and though I say it +that mebby shouldn’t—That man is able in prayer. He prays as if he +meant what he said. He don’t try to show off in oritory as so many do, +or give the Lord information. He never sez, “Oh Lord, thou knowest by +the mornin’ papers, so and so.” No, he prays in simple words for what +he wants. And he always seems to feel that somebody is nigh to him, a +hearin’ him, and if it is best and right, his requests will be granted. + +So I motioned for that man to kneel down by the bed and pray, which he +did. He wuz to the fore side of the bed, and Miss Flamm and I on the +other side. Wall, Josiah commenced his prayer, in a low earnest askin’ +voice, then all of a sudden he begun to hesitate, waver, and act +dretful agitated. And his actions and agitations seemed to last for +some time. I thought it wuz his feelin’s overcomin’ of him, and of +course, my hand bein’ over my eyes in a respectful, decent way, I +didin’t see nothin’. + +But at last, after what wuz seemingly a great effort, he began to go on +as usual agin. About that time I heard sunthin’ hit the wall hard on +the other side of the room, and I heard a yelp. But then everything wuz +still and Josiah Allen made a good prayer. And before it wuz through +Miss Flamm laid her head down onto my shoulder, and busted into tears. + +And what wuz rooted up and washed away by them tears I don’t know, and +I don’t s’pose anybody duz. Whether vanity, and a mistaken ambition, +and the poor empty successes of a fashionable life wuz uprooted and +floated away on the awakened, sweepin’ tide of a mother’s love and +remorse; whether the dog floated down that stream, and low necked +dresses, and high hazardus slippers, and strings for waists and +corsets, and fashion, and folly, and rivalry, and waltzin’, and +glitter, and buttons, and show; whether they all went down that stream, +swept along like bubbles on a heavin’ tumultuous tide, I don’t know, +nor I don’t s’pose anybody duz. + +But any way, from that day on Miss Flamm has been a different woman. I +stayed with her all that night and the next day, she a not leavin’ the +child’s bed for a minute, and we a not gettin’ of her to, much as we +tried to; eatin’ whatever we could make her eat right there by the +bedside. And on the 2d day the doctor see a change in the child and she +began to roust a little out of that stuper, and in a week’s time, she +wuz a beginnin’ to get well. + +We stayed on till she wuz out of danger and then we went home. But I +see that she wuz to be trusted with her children after that. She +dismissed that nurse, got a good motherly one, who she said would help +her take care of the children for the future; only _help_ her, for she +should have the oversight of ’em herself, always. + +The hired girl told me (Miss Flamm never mentioned it to me), and she +wuz glad enough of it, that the dog wuz dead. It died the day the +little girl wuz hurt. The hired girl said the doctor had told Miss +Flamm, that it couldn’t live long. But it wuzn’t till we wuz on our way +home that I found out one of the last eppisodes in that dog’s life. You +see, sick as that dog wuz, it wuz bound to bark at my pardner as long +as it had a breath left in its body. And Josiah told me in confidence +(and it must be kep’, it is right that it should be); he said jest +after he had knelt down and began to pray he felt that dog climb up +onto his heels, and pull at his coat tails, and growl a low mad growl, +and naw at ’em. + +Josiah prays + +He tried to nestle round and get it off quietly but no, there it stood +right onto Josiah Allen’s heels, and hung on, and tugged at them +coat-tails, and growled at ’em that low deep growl, and shook ’em, as +if determined to worry ’em off. And there my companion wuz. He couldn’t +show his feelin’s in his face; he had got to keep his face all right +towards Miss Flamm. And his feelin’s was rousted up about her, and he +wuz a wantin’, and knew he wuz expected, to have his words and manner +soothin’ and comfortin’, and that dog a standin’ on his heels and +tearin’ off his coat-tails. + +What to do he didn’t know. He couldn’t stop his prayer on such a time +as this and kill a dog, though he owned up to me that he felt like it, +and he couldn’t keep still and feel his coat-tails tore off of him, and +be growled at, and shook, and pawed at all day. So he said after the +dog had gin a most powerful tug, almost a partin’ the skirts asunder +from his coat, he drew up one foot carefully (still a keepin’ his face +straight and the prayer agoin’) and brung it back sudden and voyalent, +and he heard the dog strike aginst the opposite side of the room with +one short, sharp yelp, and then silence rained down and he finished the +prayer. + +But he said, and owned it up to me, that it didn’t seem to him so much +like a religious exercise, as he could wish. It didn’t seem to help his +spiritual growth much, if any. + +And I sez, “I should think as much,” and I sez, “You wuz in a hard +place, Josiah Allen.” + +And he sez, “It wuz the dumbest hard place any one wuz ever in on +earth.” + +And I sez, “I don’t know but it wuz.” That man wuz to be pitied, and I +told him so, and he acted real cheerful and contented at hearin’ my +mind. He owned up that he had dreaded tellin’ me about it, for fear I +would upbraid him. But, good land! I would have been a hard hearted +creeter if I could upbraid a man for goin’ through such a time as that. +He said he thought mebby I would think it wuz irreverent or sunthin’, +the dog’s actions, at such a time. + +“Wall,” sez I, “you didn’t choose the actions, did you? It wuzn’t +nothin’ you wanted.” + +“No,” sez he feelin’ly. “Heaven knows I didn’t. And I done the best I +could,” sez he sort a pitiful. + +Sez I, “I believe you, Josiah Allen,” and sez I warmly, “I don’t +believe that Alexander, or Cezar, or Grover Cleveland, could have done +any better.” + +He brightened all up at this, he felt dretful well to think I felt with +him, and my feelin’s wuz all rousted up to think of the sufferin’s he +had went through, so we felt real well towards each other. Such is some +of the comforts and consolations of pardners. Howsumever, the dog died, +and I wuz kinder sorry for the dog. I think enough of dogs (as dogs) +and always did. Always use ’em dretful well, only it mads me to have +’em put ahead of children, and sot up in front of ’em. I always did and +always shall like a dog as a _dog_. + +Wall, they say that when that dog died, Miss Flamm hardly inquired +about it, she wuz so took up in gettin’ acquainted with her own +children. And I s’pose they improved on acquaintance, for they say she +is jest devoted to ’em. And she got acquainted with G. Washington too, +so they say. He wuz a stiddy, quiet man, and she had got to lookin’ on +him as her banker and business man. But they say she liked him real +well, come to get acquainted with him. He always jest worshipped her, +so they are real happy. There wuz always sunthin’ kinder good about +Miss Flamm. + +Thos. J. is a carryin’ on another lawsuit for her (more money that +descended onto her from her father, or that ort to descend). And he is +carryin’ it stiddy and safe. It will bring Thomas Jefferson over 900 +dollars in money besides fame, a hull lot of fame. + +Wall, we sot sail for home in good spirits, and the noon train. And we +reached Jonesville with no particular eppisodin’ till we got to the +Jonesville Depot. + +I rather think Ardelia Tutt wrote a poem on the cars goin’ home, though +I can’t say for certain. + +She and Abram sot a few seats in front of us, and I thought I see a +certain look to the backside of her head that meant poetry. It wuz a +kind of a sot look, and riz up like. But I can’t say for certain for +she didn’t have no chance to tell me about it. Abram looked down at her +all the time as if he jest worshipped her. And she is a good little +creeter, and will make him a happy wife; I don’t make no doubt. As I +said, the old lady is goin’ to live with Susan. They went right on in +the train, for Ardelia’s home lays beyond Jonesville, and Abram wuz +goin’ home with her by Deacon Tutt’s request. They are willin’. + +Wall, we disembarked from the cars, and we found the old mair and the +_Democrat_ a waitin’ for us. Thomas J. wuz a comin’ for us, but had +spraint his wrist and couldn’t drive. Wall, Josia lifted our saddul +bags in, and my umbrell, and the band box. But when he went to lift my +trunk he faltered. It _wuz_ heavy. I had got relicts from Mount +McGregor, from the Battlefield, from the various springs, minerals, +stuns, and things, and Josiah couldn’t lift it. + +What added to the hardness of the job, the handles had broken offen it, +and he had to grip hold on it, by the might of his finger nails. It wuz +a hard job, and Josiah’s face got red and I felt, as well as see, that +his temper wuz a risin’. And I sez, instinctively, “Josiah, be calm!” +For I knew not what unguarded word he might drop as he vainly tried to +grip hold on’t, and it eluded his efferts and came down on the ground +every time, a carryin’ with it, I s’pose, portions of his fingernails, +broke off in the fray. + +Wall, he wuz a strugglin’ with it and with his feelin’s, for I kep’ on +a sayin’, “Josiah, do be calm! Do be careful about usin’ a profane word +so nigh home and at this time of day, and you jest home from a tower.” + +trying to lift trunk + +And he kep’ his feelin’s nobly under control, and never said a word, +only to wonder “what under the High Heavens a woman wanted to lug round +a ton of stuns in her trunk for.” And anon sayin’ that he would be +dumbed if he didn’t leave it right there on the platform. + +Too heavy! + +Savin’ these few slight remarks that man nobly restrained himself, and +lugged and lifted till the blood almost gushed through his bald head. +And right in the midst of the fray, a porter came up and went to +liftin’ the trunk in the usual highheaded, haughty way Railroad +officials have. But anon a change came over his linement. And as it +fell back from his fingers to the platform for the 3d time, he broke +out in a torrent of swearin’ words dretful to hear. + +I felt as if I should sink through the _Democrat_. But Josiah listened +to the awful words with a warm glow of pleasure and satisfaction a +beamin’ from his face. I never saw him look more complacent. And as the +man moistened his hands and with another frightful burst of profanity +histed it into the end of the buggy. + +Wall, I gin the man a few warnin’ words aginst profanity, and Josiah +gin him a quarter for liftin’ in the trunk, he said, and we drove off +in the meller glow of the summer sunset. + +But it wuz duskish before we got to the turn of the road, and +considerable dark before we got to the Corners. But we went on tbgough +the shadows, a feelin’ we could bear ’em, for we wuz together, and we +wuz a goin’ home. + +And pretty soon we got there! The door wuz open, the warm light wuz a +streamin’ out from doors and windows, and there stood the children! + +There they all wuz, all we loved best, a waitin’ to welcome us. Love, +which is the light of Heaven, wuz a shinin’ on their faces, and we had +got home. + +The End + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAMANTHA AT SARATOGA *** + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the +United States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part +of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, +and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following +the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use +of the Project Gutenberg trademark. 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