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diff --git a/old/64621-0.txt b/old/64621-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f412c6a..0000000 --- a/old/64621-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13517 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Josiah Allen's Wife as a P. A. and P. I., by -Mariettta 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: Josiah Allen's Wife as a P. A. and P. I. - Samantha at the Centennial. Designed As a Bright and Shining - Light, to Pierce the Fogs of Error and Injustice That Surround - Society and Josiah, and to Bring More Clearly to View the Path That - Leads Straight on to Virtue and Happiness. - -Author: Mariettta Holley - -Release Date: February 25, 2021 [eBook #64621] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Richard Tonsing, hekula03 and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The Internet - Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOSIAH ALLEN'S WIFE AS A P. A. AND -P. I. *** - -[Illustration: IN THE CROWD] - -[Illustration: P. A. AND P. I.] - - - - - JOSIAH ALLEN’S WIFE - AS A - P. A. AND P. I. - - SAMANTHA AT THE CENTENNIAL. - - DESIGNED AS - A BRIGHT AND SHINING LIGHT, - TO PIERCE THE FOGS OF ERROR AND INJUSTICE THAT SURROUND - SOCIETY AND JOSIAH, - AND TO BRING MORE CLEARLY TO VIEW THE PATH THAT LEADS STRAIGHT ON TO - VIRTUE AND HAPPINESS. - - - BY THE AUTHOR OF - “MY OPINIONS AND BETSEY BOBBET’S.” - - “_What are you going to write now, Samantha?_” - - - HARTFORD, CONN.: - AMERICAN PUBLISHING COMPANY - 1883. - - - - - Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1877, by the - AMERICAN PUBLISHING COMPANY, - In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. - - - - - To - MY JOSIAH’S CHILDREN BY HIS FIRST WIFE: - THOMAS JEFFERSON - AND - TIRZAH ANN, - _THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED_ - BY ONE, WHO, - ALTHOUGH A STEP-MOTHER, IS STILL AS AFFECTIONATE AND FRIENDLY TO ’EM AS - CAN BE. - - * * * * * - - The above is the dedication I had lotted on; had wrote all out and - calculated to have; pleasing, very, to Josiah, to the children, and to - myself. But come to think it over, I changed my mind. I thought: - _they_ have friends, and eloquent tongues of their own, and happiness; - are well off, and haint sufferin’ for dedications, or any of the other - comforts and necessaries of life. And so, the above is hereby null and - void; and this is what I now solemnly declare to be my last lawful - will and dedication of this book:— - - To - THOSE WHO HAVE NO ONE TO SPEAK FOR THEM; - TO - THOSE WHO ARE IN BONDS - (ANY KIND OF BONDS,) - TO - Those whose Hearts Ache, through Injustice and Oppression; - TO - THOSE WHOSE SAD EYES LOOK THROUGH TEARS FOR THE DAWNING OF A BRIGHTER, - CLEARER DAY, - _THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED, AND ALSO INSCRIBED_, - BY THEIR SINCERE FRIEND AND WELL-WISHER, - - JOSIAH ALLEN’S WIFE. - - - - - MY REASONS TO THE KIND AND ALMOST GENTLE READER - WHY - I DON’T HAVE NO PREFACE TO THIS BOOK. - - -My companion, Josiah, knew that my book was all finished and completed, -and so one lovely day about half past four, P. M. in the afternoon, when -he see me walk with a firm and even step up to the mantletry piece and -take down my bottle of ink and my steel mounted pen, he says to me: - -“What are you goin’ to writin’ on _now_, Samantha?” - -Says I mildly, “I thought I’d lay to and write a preface to my book, -Josiah. I thought I’d tell ’em that I had wrote it all down about you -and I goin’ on a tower to Filadelfy village to see the Sentinel.” - -“I guess after you have wrote it all out in black ink in a book, about -our goin’ to the Sentimental, folks that read it will find out we have -been there, without your writin’ a preface to _tell_ ’em of it. They -will unless they are dumb fools.” - -He snapped out _awful_ snappish. I couldn’t think what ailed him, and -says I firmly: - -“Stop swearin’ instantly and to _once_, Josiah Allen!” And I added again -in mild axents: “I guess I’ll lay to and write my preface, Josiah; you -know there has got to be one.” - -“_Why_ has there got to be one?” - -Oh! how fractious and sharp that “why” was. I never see a sharper, more -worrysome “why” in my hull life than that “why” was. But I kep’ cool, -and says I in calm tones: - -“Because there _has_; Folks _always_ have prefaces, Josiah.” - -“What _makes_ ’em have ’em? there’s the dumb of it. What _makes_ ’em?” - -Says I mekanically,—for a stiddy follerin’ of duty has made reprovin’ my -pardner in times of need, a second or third nature to me—“stop swearin’ -to _once_, Josiah Allen! They have prefaces, Josiah, because”—again I -paused half a moment in deep thought—“they have ’em, because they _do_ -have ’em, that’s why.” - -But even this plain and almost lucid statement didn’t seem to satisfy -him, and he kep’ a arguin’ and sayin’,—“I’d be hanged if _I’d_ have -’em,” and so on and so 4th. And I argued back again. Says I: - -“You know folks are urged to publish books time and again, that wouldn’t -have had no idee of doin’ it if they had been let alone.” Says I,—“You -know after they git their books all finished, they hang back and hate to -have ’em published; hate to, like dogs; and are urged out of their way -by relatives and friends, and have to give up, and have ’em published. -They naturally want to tell the Public how it is, and that these things -are so.” - -“Oh wall,” says he, “if the Public is any like me, he’d ruther hear the -urgin’ himself than to hear the author tell on it. What did they break -their backs for a writin’ fourteen or fifteen hundred pages if they laid -out to hang back in the end. If they found their books all wrote out, a -growin’ on huckleberry bushes, or cewcumber vines, there would be some -sense in talkin’ about urgin’ ’em out of their way.” - -And he sot his head on one side, and looked up at the ceilin’ with a -dretful shrewd look onto his face, and went to kinder whistlin’. I can’t -bear hintin’, and never could, I always despised hinters. And I says in -almost cold tones, says I: - -“Don’t you believe they was urged, Josiah Allen?” - -“I haint said they wuzn’t, or they _wuz_. I said I had ruther see the -hangin’ back, and hear the urgin’ than to hear of it by-the-by, in -prefaces and things. _That’s_ what I said.” - -But again that awful shrewd look come onto his face, and again he sot -his head on one side and kinder went to whistlin’; no particular tune, -but jest a plain sort of a promiscous whistle. But I kep’ considerable -cool, and says I: - -“Folks may be real dissatisfied with what they have wrote, and want to -sort o’ apoligise, and run it down kinder.” - -Says Josiah,—“If folks don’t write the best they know how to, it is a -insult to the Public, and ort to be took by him as one.” - -“That is so, Josiah,” says I. “I always thought so. But writers may try -to do the very best they can; their minds may be well stabled, and their -principles foundered on a rock; their motives as sound as brass, and -soarin’ and high-toned as anything can be, and still at the same time, -they may have a realizin’ sense that in spite of all their pains, there -is faults in the book; lots of faults. And they may” says I, “feel it to -be their duty to tell the Public of these faults. They may think it is -wrong to conceal ’em, and the right way is to come out nobly and tell -the Public of ’em.” - -“Oh! wall!” says Josiah, “if _that_ is what you are goin’ to write a -preface for, you may set your heart at rest about it. Anybody that reads -_your_ book will find out the faults in it for themselves, without your -tellin’ ’em of ’em in a preface, or sayin’ a word to help ’em on in the -search. Don’t you go to worryin’ about that, Samantha; folks will see -the faults jest as easy; wont have to put on no specks nor nothin’ to -find ’em; such things can’t be hid.” - -My companion meant to chirk me up and comfort me. His will was good, but -somehow, I s’pose I didn’t look so chirked up and happy as he thought I -ort to, and so to prove his words, and encourage me still more, he went -on and told a story: - -“Don’t you remember the boy that was most a fool, and when he sot out -for his first party, his father charged him not to say a word, or they -would find him out. He sot perfectly speechless for more’n an hour; -wouldn’t answer back a word they said to him, till they begun to call -him a fool right to his face. And then he opened his mouth for the first -time, and hollered to his father,—‘Father! father! they’ve found me -out.’” - -Josiah is a great case to tell stories. He takes all the most high-toned -and popular almanacs of the day, and reads ’em clear through. He says he -“will read ’em, every one of ’em, from beginnin’ to Finy.” He is fond of -tellin’ me anecdotes. And is also fond of tragedies—he reads the _World_ -stiddy. And I always make a practice of smilin’ or groanin’ at ’em as -the case may be. (I sot out in married life with a firm determination to -do my duty by this man.) But now, though I smiled a very little, there -was sunthin’ in the story, or the thoughts and forebodin’s the story -waked up in me, that made my heart sink from—I should judge from a -careless estimate—an inch, to an inch and three-quarters. I didn’t make -my feelin’s known, however; puttin’ my best foot forred has been my -practice for years, and my theme. And my pardner went on in a real chirk -tone: - -“You see Samantha, jest how it is. You see there haint no kind o’ need -of your writin’ any preface.” - -I was almost lost in sad and mournful thought, but I answered dreamily -that “I guessed I’d write one, as I had seemed to sort o’ lay out and -calculate to.” - -Then my companion come out plain, and told me his mind, which if he had -done in the first place, would have saved breath and argument. Says he: - -“I _hate_ prefaces. I hate ’em with almost a perfect hatred.” And says -he with a still more gloomy and morbid look,—“I have been hurt too much -by prefaces to take to ’em, and foller ’em up.” - -“Hurt by ’em?” says I. - -“Yes,” says he firmly. “That other preface of your’n hurt me as much as -7 cents in the eyes of the community. It was probable more’n that damage -to me. I wouldn’t”—says he, with as bitter a look onto him as I ever -see,—“have had it got out that I had the Night Mair, for a silver 3 cent -piece.” - -“Why,” says I mildly, “it wasn’t nothin’ ag’inst your _character_, -Josiah.” - -“Oh no!” says he in a sarcastic tone. “You would want it talked over in -prefaces and round, wouldn’t you, that you had the Night Mair, and -pranced round in your sleep?” - -“I never mentioned the word prance,” says I mildly, but firmly, -“_never_.” - -“Oh wall,” says he, “it is all the same thing.” - -“No it haint,” says I firmly. “No it haint.” - -“Wall,” says he, “you know jest how stories grow by tellin’. And by the -time it got to New York,—I dare persume to say before it got to that -village,—the story run that I pranced round, and was wild as a henhawk. -I have hated prefaces ever sense, and druther give _half a cent_ than to -have you write another one.” - -“Don’t go beyond your means a tryin’ to bribe me,” says I, in a almost -dry tone. Josiah is honest as a pulpit, but close, nearly tight. After a -moment’s thought, I says,—“If you feel like that about it, Josiah, I -wont have no preface in this book.” - -“Wall,” says he, “it would take a load offen my mind if you wouldn’t.” -And he added in cheerful and tender tones,—“Shan’t I start up the fire -for you, Samantha, and hang onto the tea-kettle?” - -I told him he might, and then I rose up and put my bottle of ink on to -the mantletry piece, and sot the table for supper. And this—generous and -likely reader though I think a sight on you, and would have been glad of -the chance to have told you so in a lawful way—is jest the reason why I -have denied myself that privilege and don’t have no preface to this -book. Further explanations are unnecessary. To the discernin’ mind my -reasons are patented, for such well know that a husband’s wishes to a -fond wife, are almost like takin’ the law to her. And knowin’ this, I -hope and trust you will kindly overlook its loss. You will not call me -shiftless, nor yet slack. You will heed not the dark report that may be -started up that I was short on it for prefaces, or entirely run out of -’em, and couldn’t get holt of one. You will believe not that tale, -knowin’ it false and also untrue. You will regard its absence kindly and -even tenderly, thinkin’ that what is my loss is your gain; thinkin’ that -it is a delicate and self-sacrificin’ token of a wife’s almost wrapped -devotion to a Josiah. - - - - - WHAT I HAVE WRIT ABOUT. - - - PAGE. - WHY I DON’T HAVE NO PREFACE TO THIS BOOK, v - - THE JONESVILLE DEBATIN’-SCHOOL, 19 - - THE WIDDER DOODLE, 54 - - A DEBATE ON INTEMPERANCE, 73 - - TIRZAH ANN AS A WIFE, 103 - - P. A. AND P. I., 121 - - HOW I WENT TO ’LECTION, 144 - - SENATOR VYSE AND HIS VICTIM, 161 - - HOW WE BOUGHT A SEWIN’ MACHINE AND ORGAN, 193 - - PREPARIN’ FOR OUR TOWER, 211 - - THE WIDDER AND WIDOWER, 222 - - HOW SEREPTA CARRIED THE MEETIN’ HOUSE, 231 - - I AND JOSIAH VISIT PHILANDER SPICER’SES FOLKS, 270 - - MELANKTON SPICER AND HIS FAMILY, 294 - - UNCLE DEACON ZEBULON COFFIN, 316 - - HOW I MARRIED THE DEACON’S DAUGHTER, 353 - - THE GRAND EXHIBITION, 370 - - GOOD LAND! GOOD LAND! AND GOOD LAND!, 383 - - PATRONIZIN’ THE RAILROAD, 386 - - I ADVISE THE NATION THOUGH ITS GREAT MEN, 400 - - INTERVIEW WITH GEN. HAWLEY, 406 - - DOIN’ THE MAIN BUILDIN’, 411 - - JOSIAH’S RIDE IN A CHAIR, 422 - - A TRIP THROUGH THE WORLD, 425 - - IN THE CHINESE DEPARTMENT, 440 - - I MEET OLD ACQUAINTANCES, 453 - - WIDDER DOODLE AS A BRIDE, 460 - - THE ARTEMUS GALLERY, 473 - - INTERVIEW WITH DOM PEDRO, 490 - - THE “CREATION SEARCHERS” AT THE SENTINAL, 506 - - MACHINERY HALL, 507 - - THE MARQUIS OF LORNE, 513 - - THE SPIRITUALIST, 522 - - THE WIMMEN’S PAVILION, 523 - - THE FEMALE LECTURER, 525 - - AMONG THE RELICS, 535 - - AMONG THE WILD BEASTS, 539 - - THE INDIAN QUESTION, 541 - - MY SUCCESS AS P. A. AND P. I., 547 - - THE SENTINAL PROMISCOUS, 550 - - THE “CREATION SEARCHERS” IN JAIL, 551 - - THE END OF OUR TOWER, 557 - - HOME AFFAIRS, 559 - - THE 14TH DAY OF SEPTEMBER, 561 - - A BRIDAL TOWER, 563 - - A GOOD TIME GENERALLY, 570 - - THE BABY, 576 - - ALL HAPPY, 580 - - - - - WHAT THE KIND ARTIST HAS DONE - - - PAGE - 1. AS A P. A. AND P. I. _Frontispiece_ - - 2. ALAS POOR BETSEY 21 - - 3. THE EDITOR OF THE AUGER 24 - - 4. A RIDE ON THE BOBS, (FULL PAGE) 30 - - 5. THE LYCEUM, (FULL PAGE) 35 - - 6. THE YOUNG NEPHEW 37 - - 7. THE ONE GESTURE 39 - - 8. A THRILLIN’ MOMENT 45 - - 9. SUNDAY SLUMBERS 48 - - 10. EDITOR OF THE GIMLET 52 - - 11. PLUCKY, (TAIL PIECE) 53 - - 12. DAVID DOODLE 56 - - 13. WIDDER DOODLE 60 - - 14. “THE VOYAGE OF LIFE” 61 - - 15. LOVE’S DREAM 64 - - 16. PRETTY HANDS AND EYES, (FULL PAGE) 68 - - 17. HELPING CHURN 69 - - 18. THE AFFIRMATIVE 77 - - 19. NOT THE RIGHT KIND OF HORNS, (FULL PAGE) 84 - - 20. THE BLIMMER CAUGHT 93 - - 21. FOUND DEAD, (FULL PAGE) 96 - - 22. THE NERVOUS WOMAN, (FULL PAGE) 111 - - 23. LEFT BEHIND, (FULL PAGE) 118 - - 24. COURTING, (TAIL PIECE) 120 - - 25. TESTING A MAN’S TEMPER, (FULL PAGE) 123 - - 26. THE THIEF AT HOME, (FULL PAGE) 131 - - 27. JOSIAH’S SECRET, (FULL PAGE) 150 - - 28. THE EDITOR’S WIFE 154 - - 29. THE STRANGER 156 - - 30. INTRODUCTION TO THE SENATOR, (FULL PAGE) 163 - - 31. YOUNG WOMANHOOD 168 - - 32. FALLEN 170 - - 33. THE LITTLE INNOCENT 172 - - 34. GRIEF AND REMORSE 173 - - 35. “TOOK TO DRINKIN’” 174 - - 36. ABOUT A FAIR THING 179 - - 37. JOSIAH FINDS HIS SECRET IS KNOWN, (FULL PAGE) 189 - - 38. MATERNAL AFFECTION, (TAIL PIECE) 192 - - 39. AVOIDING A NUISANCE, (FULL PAGE) 199 - - 40. THE SEWIN’ MACHINE AGENTS, (FULL PAGE) 207 - - 41. “IT HAINT ALWAYS BEST TO TELL REASONS.” 212 - - 42. THE WIDDER, (TAIL PIECE) 221 - - 43. “I LOVED THAT WOMAN” 226 - - 44. AN UNSOLVED MYSTERY 235 - - 45. SEREPTA SMITH 237 - - 46. “NEEDS HEADIN’ OFF,” (FULL PAGE) 239 - - 47. MISS HORN 245 - - 48. A VISIT FROM THE CHURCH, (FULL PAGE) 263 - - 49. TOO MANY RUFFLES, (FULL PAGE) 273 - - 50. COVERED, (TAIL PIECE) 293 - - 51. “THAT DOOR WANTS MENDIN’ BAD,” (FULL PAGE) 298 - - 52. “APPARENTLY” STRONG 300 - - 53. AN “APPARENTLY” WELCOME 303 - - 54. “THE HOUSE OF MOURNIN’” 305 - - 55. GENTILITY 307 - - 56. THE PET, (TAIL PIECE) 315 - - 57. CHEATED 319 - - 58. COMPETIN’ WITH THE BAR-ROOM 324 - - 59. DEACON ZEBULON COFFIN 331 - - 60. THE CONDEMNED FIDDLE, (FULL PAGE) 334 - - 61. FOOLIN’ AWAY TIME 337 - - 62. MEETIN’ THE DEACON 343 - - 63. MOLLY CONSOLIN’ TOM PITKINS 347 - - 64. DRESSED FOR THE BALL 350 - - 65. EXTRAVAGANT WIMMEN 351 - - 66. FRUGAL MEN 352 - - 67. THE DEACON’S OLD GAME 355 - - 68. HELPIN’ THE WIDDER 360 - - 69. “I HAINT A MORMON” 367 - - 70. “BUY A GUIDE?” (FULL PAGE) 379 - - 71. SAMANTHA ADDRESSES GEN. GRANT 400 - - 72. INTERVIEW WITH GOV. HAWLEY, (FULL PAGE) 407 - - 73. ONE OF THE SMITHS (FULL PAGE) 418 - - 74. JOSIAH’S FIVE HOURS NAP 422 - - 75. INTRODUCED TO JOHN ROGERS JR. 432 - - 76. THE CHINESE DEPARTMENT, (FULL PAGE) 441 - - 77. JOSIAH IN THE DRESSIN’-ROOM 458 - - 78. POLITENESS TO A STRANGER 461 - - 79. THE PHANTOM 467 - - 80. SAMANTHA IN THE ART GALLERY, (FULL PAGE) 477 - - 81. SAMANTHA MEETS DOM PEDRO 491 - - 82. IN TROUBLE 505 - - 83. JOSIAH ADMIRIN’ THE WATER 539 - - 84. A SHORT ROLL 548 - - 85. THE SENTINAL LICENSED 551 - - 86. BRINGIN’ HER TO 563 - - 87. JUDGE SNOW’S SURPRISE, (FULL PAGE) 573 - - 88. UNDER THE MAPLES 579 - -[Illustration] - - - - - THE JONESVILLE DEBATIN’-SCHOOL. - - -It was to the Jonesville Debatin’-School, that we first thought on’t. It -was there that Josiah and me made up our 2 minds to go to Filadelfy -village to see the Sentinal. They’ve had Debatin’-schools to Jonesville -this winter, and as I was the only literary woman worth mentionin’, they -made a great pint of havin’ me attend to ’em. I say the only literary -woman,—Betsey Bobbet Slimpsey havin’ to work out so much that she has -entirely left off writin’ poetry. She says she can’t go out washin’, and -cleanin’ house, and makin’ soap, and write poetry at the same time, -worth a cent. They have a awful hard time to git along. They both work -out by the day, and they say that she has had to sell her tow frizzles -and corneleun ring, and lots of her other nice things that she had to -catch her husband with, in order to git along. Howsumever, I don’t -_know_ this; you can hear _anything_, such a lyin’ time, now-a-days—as I -told Josiah, the other day. He says to me, says he: - -“I won’t believe _anything_, Samantha, till I see it with my own eyes.” - -And says I,—“_I_ wont believe anything, Josiah Allen, till I have got -holt of it.” Says I, “mists and black arts are liable to be cast before -your eyes; but if you lay holt of anything with your two hands, you are -pretty certain it is there.” - -Never havin’ laid holt of her tow curls and other ornaments, as they was -bein’ sold, I don’t tell it for certain truth, but only what I have -hearn; but that they have a dretful hard time on’t to git along, _that_ -I _know_. - -Besides poverty, the horrors lay holt of Slimpsey the worst kind. They -shake him as a dog shakes a chipmunk. When he lived with his first wife -he didn’t have ’em more’n a few times a month, or so; but _now_ he has -’em every day, stiddy, right along. He yells at Betsey; goes to bed with -his boots on; throws his hat at her, hollers, and keeps a actin’. He -drinks, too, when he can git anything to drink. He says he drinks to -forget his trouble; but what a simple move that is, for when he gits -over it, there his trouble is, right before his eyes. There Betsey -stands. Trouble is as black and troublesome again looked at through the -glass, and topers find that it is; for they have the old trouble, all -the same, besides shame and disgrace, and bodily ruination. - -[Illustration: ALAS! POOR BETSEY.] - -Considerin’ what a dretful hard time Betsey has, it would seem to a -bystander to calmly think on’t, that she didn’t git much of any comfort -from her marriage, except the dignity she told me of the other night, -with her own tongue as she was goin’ home from washin’, at Miss -Gowdey’s. (Miss Gowdey had a felon and was disabled.) She had on a old -hood, and one of her husband’s old coats with brass buttons—for it was a -rainin’ and she didn’t care for looks. She was all drabbled up, and -looked tired enough to sink. She had a piece of pork to pay her for her -washin’, and a piller-case about half full of the second sort of flour a -carryin’ along, that Miss Gowdey had give her; and as I happened to be a -standin’ in the front door a lookin’ for my companion, Josiah,—who had -gone to Jonesville to mill—we got to talkin’ about one thing and -another, and she up and told me that she wouldn’t part with the dignity -she got by marryin’, for 25 cents, much as she needed money. Though she -said it was a worse trial than anybody had any idee of, for her to give -up writin’ poetry. - -So, as I was a sayin’, bein’ the only literary woman of any account in -Jonesville, they made a great handlin’ of havin’ me present at their -meetin’s, or at least, some of ’em did. Though as I will state and -explain, the great question of my takin’ part in ’em, rent Jonesville -almost to its very twain. Some folks hate to see a woman set up high and -honored; they hate to, like a dog. It was gallin’ to some men’s pride, -to see themselves passed by, and a female woman invited to take a part -in the great “Creation Searchin’ Society,” or “Jonesville Lyceum.” I -sometimes call it Debatin’-school, jest as I used to; but the childern -have labored with me; they call it Lyceum, and so does Maggy Snow, and -our son-in-law, Whitfield Minkley; (he and Tirzah Ann are married, and -it is very agreeable to me and to Josiah, and to Brother and Sister -Minkley; very!) Tirzah Ann told me it worked her up, to see me so -old-fashioned as to call it Debatin’-school. - -But says I calmly,—“Work up or not, I shall call it so when I forget the -other name.” - -And Thomas Jefferson labored with me, and jest as his way is, he went -down into the reason and philosophy of things, knowin’ well what a case -his mother is for divin’ deep into reason and first causes. That boy is -dretful deep; he is comin’ up awful well. He is a ornament to -Jonesville, as Lawyer Snow—Maggy’s father—told me, last fall. (That -haint come off yet; but we are perfectly willin’ and agreeable on both -sides, and it will probable take place before long. Thomas J. fairly -worships the ground she walks on, and so she does hisen.) - -Says Thomas J. to me, says he, “I haint a word to say ag’inst your -callin’ it Debatin’-school, only I know you are so kinder scientific and -philosophical, that I hate to see you usin’ a word that haint got -science to back it up. Now this word Lyceum,” says he, “is derived from -the dead languages, and from them that is most dead. It is from the -Greek and Injun; a kind of a half-breed. Ly, is from the Greek, and -signifies and means a big story, or, in other words, a falsehood; and -ce-um is from the Injun; and it all means, ‘see ’em lie.’” - -That boy is dretful deep; admired as he is by everybody, there is but -few indeed that realize what a mind he has got. He convinced me right on -the spot, and I make a practice of callin’ it so, every time I think of -it. But as I told Tirzah Ann—work up or not, if they was mortified black -as a coal, both of ’em, when I forgot that name I should call it by the -old one. - -[Illustration: THE EDITOR OF THE AUGER.] - -There has been a awful thorough study into things to the -Debatin’-school, or Lyceum. It has almost skairt me sometimes, to see -’em go so deep into hard subjects. It has seemed almost like temptin’ -Providence, to know so much, and talk so wise and smart as some of ’em -have. - -I was in favor of their havin’ ’em, from the very first on’t, and said -openly, that I laid out to attend ’em; but I thought my soul, I should -have to stay to home, the very first one. It commenced on a Tuesday -night, and I had got my mind all worked up about goin’ to it; and I told -the Widder Doodle, (Josiah’s brother’s wife, that is livin’ with us at -present,) I told her in the afternoon, it would be a dretful blow to me -if anything should happen to keep me to home; and I got a early -breakfast, a purpose to get a early dinner, so’s to have a early supper, -so’s to be ready to go, you know, sunthin’ as the poem runs:—“The fire -begun to burn the stick, the stick begun to lick the kid, and the kid -begun to go.” - -Wall, before supper, I went up into the Widder Doodle’ses room to git my -soap-stone, to put on the tank to have it a warmin’ for the ride; (I let -the Widder have the soap-stone, nights, she havin’ no other companion, -and bein’ lonesome, and troubled with cold feet. I do well by the -Widder.) As I come down with it, all boyed up in my mind about what a -edifyin’ and instructive time I was a goin’ to have, the Widder spoke up -and says she: - -“Josiah has jest been in, and he don’t know as he shall go to -Jonesville, after all; he says the Editor of the Auger is sick.” He was -to make the openin’ speech. - -“What ails the Editor?” says I. - -Says she,—“He has got the Zebra Spinner Magnetics.” - -“Good land!” says I, “he wont never get over it, will he? I shouldn’t -never expect to get well if _I_ had that distemper, and I don’t know as -I should want to. It must leave the system in a awful state.” - -“Yes,” says Josiah, who had come in with an armful of wood, “the Editor -is bad off; but Sister Doodle haint got it jest right; it is the Zebra -Smilin’ Marcellus that has got a holt of him. Solomon Cypher told me -about it when he went by on his saw log.” - -“Wall,” says I coolly, “a few words, more or less, haint a goin’ to make -or break a distemper. You both seem to be agreed and sot onto the Zebra, -so s’posen we call it the Zebra, for short. Do you know whether he -catched the Zebra, or whether it come onto him spontaneous, as it were? -Anyway, I don’t believe he will ever git over it.” - -And I sithed as I thought of the twins; he has had a sight of twins -sense he married this woman; I never see such a case for twins, as the -Editor is. And I sithed as I thought of every span of ’em; and the ma, -and step-ma of ’em. I kep’ a sithin’, and says I: - -“This distemper is a perfect stranger to me, Josiah Allen. Where does -the Zebra take holt of anybody?” - -Says he,—“The disease is in the backside of his neck, and the posterity -part of his brain.” - -And then I felt better. I felt well about the Editor of the Augers’es -wife, and the twins. Says I in a cheerful voice: - -“If the disease is in his brain, Josiah, I know he will have it light. I -know they can quell it down easy.” - -I knew well that there could be a large, a _very large_ and interestin’ -book made out of what the Editor didn’t know. The minute he told me the -Zebra was in his brain, I knew its stay there would be short, for it -wouldn’t find anything to support itself on, for any length of time. I -felt well; my heart felt several pounds lighter than it had; for -lightness of heart never seems so light, as it does after anybody has -been carryin’ a little jag of trouble. It takes the little streaks of -shadow to set off the sunshine. Life is considerable like a rag carpet, -if you only look on it with the eye of a weaver. It is made up of dark -stripes and light stripes, and sometimes a considerable number of -threads of hit or miss; and the dark stripes set off the light ones, and -make ’em look first rate. But I am allegorin’. - -As I said, I felt relieved and cheerful, and I got supper on the table -in a few minutes—the tea-kettle was all biled. After supper, I said to -Josiah in cheerful axents: - -“I guess we had better go to Jonesville, anyway, for my mind seems to be -sot onto that Debatin’-school, and I don’t believe the Editor’s havin’ -the Zebra will break it down at all; and I want to go to Tirzah Ann’s a -few minutes; and we are about out of tea—there haint enough for another -drawin’.” - -Josiah said it wasn’t best to take the old mare out again that night, -and he didn’t believe there would be a Debatin’-school, now the Editor -had got the Zebra; he thought that would flat it all out. - -I didn’t argue on that; I didn’t stand on the Zebra, knowin’ well, I had -a keener arrer in my bow. I merely threw in this remark, in a awful dry -tone: - -“Very well, Josiah Allen; I can git along on sage tea, if you can; or, I -can make crust coffee for breakfast.” - -I calmly kep’ a braidin’ up my back hair, previous to doin’ it up in a -wad, for I knew what the end thereof would be. My companion, Josiah, is -powerfully attached to his tea, and he sot for a number of minutes in -perfect silence, meditatin’—I knew by the looks of his face—on sage tea. -I kep’ perfectly still and let him meditate, and wouldn’t have -interrupted him for the world, for I knew that sage tea, and crust -coffee, taken internally of the mind, (as it were,) was what was good -for him jest then. And so it proved, for in about three minutes and a -half, he spoke out in tones as sharp as a meat axe; some like a simetar: - -“Wall! do git _ready_ if you are a goin’. I never did see such cases to -be on the _go_ all the time, as wimmen be. But I shall go with the Bobs, -jest as I come from the woods; I haint a goin’ to fuss to git out the -sleigh to-night.” - -He acted cross, and worrysome, but I answered him calmly, and my mean -looked first rate as I said it: - -“There is a great literary treat in front of me, to-night, Josiah Allen, -and a few Bobs, more or less, haint a goin’ to overthrow my comfort, or -my principles. No!” says I stoppin’ at my bed-room door, and wavin’ my -right hand in a real eloquent wave; “no! no! Josiah Allen; the seekin’ -mind, bent on improvin’ itself; and the earnest soul a plottin’ after -the good of the race, Bobs has no power over. Such minds cannot be -turned round in their glorious career by Bobs.” - -[Illustration: A RIDE ON THE BOBS.] - -“Wall! wall!” he snapped out again, “do git ready. I believe wimmen -would stop to talk and visit on their way to the stake.” - -I didn’t say nothin’ back, but with a calm face I went into the bed-room -and put on my brown alpaca dress; for I thought seein’ I had my way, I’d -let him have his say, knowin’ by experience, that the last word would be -dretful sort o’ comfortin’ to him. I had a soap-stone and plenty of -Buffaloes, and I didn’t care if we did go on the Bobs, (or Roberts, I -s’pose would be more polite to call ’em.) There was a good floor to ’em, -and so we sot off, and I didn’t care a mite if I did feel strange and -curious, and a good deal in the circus line; as if I was some -first-class curiosity that my companion, Josiah, had discovered in a -foreign land, and was carryin’ round his native streets for a side-show. - -When we got to Jonesville, we found they was a goin’ to start the -Debatin’-school, jest the same as if the Editor hadn’t got the Zebra. We -went into Tirzah Ann’s a few minutes, and she give us a piece of fresh -beef—Whitfield had jest bought a quarter—Josiah hadn’t killed yet. Beef -is Josiah’s favorite refreshment, and I told him we would have it for -dinner the next day. Josiah begun to look clever; and he asked me in -affectionate and almost tender axents, if apple dumplin’s didn’t go -first rate with roast beef and vegetables. I told him yes, and I would -make some for dinner, if nothin’ happened. Josiah felt well; his -worrysome feelin’s all departed from him. The storekeeper had jest -opened an uncommon nice chest of tea, too. I never see a man act and -look cleverer than my pardner did; he was ready to go anywhere, at any -time. - -We got to the school-house where it was held, in good season, and got a -good seat, and I loosened my bunnet strings and went to knittin’. But, -as I said, they was determined (some on ’em) that I should hold up one -of the sides of the arguments; but of course, as could be expected in -such a interestin’ and momentous affair, in which Jonesville and the -world at large was so deeply interested, there was them that it galled, -to see a woman git up so high in the world. There was them that said it -would have a tendency to onsettle and break up the hull fabric of -society for a woman to take part in such hefty matters as would be -argued here. Some said it was a revolutionary idee, and not to be -endured for half a moment of time; and they brought up arguments from -the Auger—wrote by its Editor—to prove out that wimmen ortn’t to have no -such privileges and honors. They said, as sick as the Editor was now, it -would kill him if he should hear that the “Creation Searchin’ -Society”—that he had labored so for—had demeaned itself by lettin’ a -woman take part in it. They said as friends of the Editor, _they_ -wouldn’t answer for the shock on his nervous and other system. Neither -would they answer for the consequences to Jonesville and the world—the -direful consequences, sure to flow from liftin’ a female woman so far -above her spear. - -Their talk was scareful, very, and some was fearfully affected by it; -but others was jest as rampant on the other side; they got up and defied -’em. They boldly brought forward my noble doin’s on my tower; how I had -stood face to face with that heaven-honored man of peace, Horace -Greely—heaven-honored and heaven-blest now—how he had confided in me; -how my spectacles had calmly gazed into hisen, as we argued in deep -debate concernin’ the welfare of the nation, and wimmen. How I had -preserved Grant from perishin’ by poetry; how I had labored with Victory -and argued with Theodore. They said such doin’s had rose me up above -other wimmen; had lifted me so far up above her common spear, as to make -me worthy of any honors the nation could heap onto me; made me worthy -even to take a part in the “Jonesville Creation Searchin’ and World -Investigatin’ Society.” - -I let ’em fight it out, and didn’t say a word. They fit, and they fit; -and I sot calmly there on my seat a knittin’ my Josiah’s socks, and let -’em go on. I knew where I stood in my own mind; I knew I shouldn’t git -up and talk a word after they got through fightin’. Not that I think it -is out of character for a woman to talk in public; nay, verily. It is, -in my opinion, no more wearin’ on her throat, or her morals, to git up -and talk to a audience for their amusement and edification, in a calm -and collected voice, than it is for her to key up her voice and sing to -’em by the hour, for the same reason. But everybody has their particular -fort, and they ort in my opinion to stick to their own forts and not try -to git on to somebody else’es. - -Now, influencin’ men’s souls, and keepin’ their morals healthy by words -of eloquence, is some men’s forts. Nailin’ on good leather soles to keep -their body’s healthy, is another man’s fort. One is jest as honorable -and worthy as the other, in my opinion, if done in the fear of God and -for the good of mankind, and follerd as a fort ort to be follerd. But -when folks leave their own lawful forts and try to git on to somebody -else’es fort, that is what makes trouble, and makes crowded forts and -weak ones, and mixes things. Too many a gettin’ on to a fort at one -time, is what breaks it down. My fort haint talkin’ in public, and I -foller it up from day to day, as a fort ort to be follerd. So I was jest -as cool as a cewcumber, outside and inside, and jest as lives see ’em go -on makin’ consummit idiots of themselves as not, and ruther. - -[Illustration: THE LYCEUM.] - -[Illustration: THE YOUNG NEPHEW.] - -It was enough to make a dog snicker and laugh (if he hadn’t deep -principle to hold him back, as I had,) to see ’em go on. The President -Cornelius Cork, and Solomon Cypher talked the most. They are both -eloquent and almost finished speakers; but Solomon Cypher havin’ had -better advantages than the President, of course goes ahead of him as an -oriter. A nephew of hisen, P. Cypher Bumpus, old Philander Bumpus’es -only boy, (named after his father, and uncle Cypher,) has been there to -his uncle’s givin’ him lessons all winter, in elocution and dramatic -effects. Solomon has give him his board for tutorin’ him. - -I s’pose P. Cypher Bumpus can’t be beat on elocution; he’s studied hard, -and took lessons of some big elocutionists, and they say he can holler -up as loud, and look as wild as the biggest of ’em, and dwindle his -voice down as low, and make as curious motions as the curiousest of ’em. -Besides, he has took up lots in his own head. He is very smart, -naturally, and has stood by his uncle Solomon all winter, like a Major. -And considerin’ Solomon’s age, and his natural mind—which haint none of -the best—and his lameness, I never see a man make such headway as -Solomon Cypher has. He can make eloquent and impressive gestures, very. - -Cornelius Cork, the President, they say has been a tryin to learn -himself; has tried to take gestures and motions up in his own head; but -bein’ a poor man and not bein’ able to hire a teacher, of course he -don’t make much headway; don’t git along nigh so well. He haint got but -one gesture broke in so he can handle it to any advantage, and that is: -pointin’ his forefinger at the audience, with the rest of his hand shet -up; dartin’ it out sometimes, as if it was a bayonet he was goin’ to run -through their hearts; and sometimes holdin’ it back, and takin’ a more -distant and deliberate aim with it, as if it was a popgun he kep’ by him -to shoot down congregations with. That is all he has got at present; but -truly, he does the best he can, with what he has to do with. It don’t -scare the audience so much I s’pose as he thinks it ort to, and he -probable gits discouraged; but he ort to consider that he can’t show off -much in gestures, while Solomon Cypher is livin’. A kerosine lamp can’t -show off to any advantage when the sun gits up. But the President done -well as I said, with what he had to do with. He pinted that forefinger -almost threatningly in every direction, from Zenith to Nathan, as he -went on to say: he hadn’t no personal objections to Josiah Allen’s wife, -“_fur frummit_.” - -[Illustration: THE ONE GESTURE.] - -Cornelius Cork bein’ a poor man, and shackled with the support of four -maiden sisters of his own, and a mother-in-law and a grandmother-in-law -of his wife’s, besides a large family of childern of their own, haint -never felt able to own a dictionary, and so he pronounces by ear, and -makes mistakes. But considerin’ his circumstances and shackles, I don’t -think he ort to be run down for it. It makes it very bad, sometimes, for -Solomon Cypher, for he bein’ so took up with gestures and motions, and -bein’ one easy led astray by them that are in high office, he follers on -blindly after the President and uses lots of words he wouldn’t dremp of -usin’, if he hadn’t heerd the President use ’em. It makes it bad for -Solomon, very. - -The President repeated the words again, with dignity and emphasis: “_fur -frummit_.” He trusted he realized too well whose tower it was, that -bein’ gone off on, had lifted Jonesville fur up above surroundin’ -nations; had lifted it high up on fame’s towerin’ pillow, and shed a -lurid light on the housen thereof. He trusted he was too familiar with -that noble book of hern, of which he had read the biggest heft, and was -calculatin’ to tackle the rest of it if he lived long enough. And he had -said, and he said still, that such a book as that, was liable to live -and go down to Posterity, if Posterity didn’t git shiftless and hang off -too long. And if anybody said it wasn’t liable to, he called ’em -“traitor, to the face; traitor to Jonesville; traitor to Josiah Allen’s -wife; traitor to Josiah.” - -His face got red as blood, and he sweat considerable, he talked so hard, -and got so excited, and pointed that forefinger so powerful and frequent -at the audience, as if he was—in spirit—shootin’ ’em down like wild -turkeys. - -Jest as quick as he collected breath enough, he went on to say that -though nobody could go ahead of him in honorin’ that esteemable woman, -still he sot principle up in his mind above any other female; higher -even than Josiah Allen’s wife. It was solid principle he was upholdin’; -the principle of the male sex not bein’ infringed upon; that was his -stand. Says he, “For a female woman to talk in public on such momentous -and weighty subjects—subjects that weigh I don’t know what they wont -weigh but this I know: every one will be hefty;—for a female woman to -talk on those deep and perhaps awful subjects as they are a bein’ brung -up, would have a dangerous tendency to make a woman feel as if she was -equal to man. It would have a tendency to infringe on him; and if there -is anything a man can’t, nor wont stand, it is infringin’. And it would -also bring her into too close contract with him; and so, on them -grounds, as a Latin author observes in a similar case: ‘I deny her the -right _in tato toto_.’” - -That was Latin, and I s’pose he thought it would scare me, but it didn’t -a mite; for I don’t s’pose he knew what it meant no more’n I did. I -bound off my heel with composure. But the excitement was fearful; no -sooner would them on one side make a motion, than them on the other side -would git up and make a different motion. You know when sheep go to -jumpin’ over the fence, if one goes, they all want to go. There was the -awfulest sight of motions made, I ever see; everybody was jumpin’ up and -makin’ ’em. Why, one spell, I had to lay holt of Josiah Allen and hold -him down by main strength, or he’d been up a makin’ ’em; he wanted to, -and tried to, but I laid holt of him and argued to him. Says I: - -“Let ’em fight it out; don’t you make a single motion, Josiah Allen.” - -And Josiah, feelin’ clever, consented not to, and sot still, and I went -to knittin’ again. But it was a scene of almost fearful confusion, and -excitement. No sooner had the President sot down, sayin’ he denied me -the right “_in tato toto_,” than Simon Slimpsey got up (with difficulty) -and says he, in a almost thick tone: - -“I think taint best to give her the potato.” - -He had been a drinkin’ and didn’t know what he was sayin’. He sot down -again right off—had to—for he couldn’t stand up. But as he kinder fell -back on his seat, he kep’ a mutterin’ that “she didn’t ort to have the -potato give her; she didn’t know enough to plant the tater, or hoe -it—she hadn’t ort to have it.” - -Nobody minded him. But Solomon Cypher jumped up, and says he, smitin’ -his breast with his right hand: - -“I motion she haint no right to talk.” And again he smote his breast -almost severely. - -“I motion you tell on what grounds you make the motion!” says the Editor -of the Gimlet, jumpin’ up and throwin’ his head back nobly. - -“I motion you set down again,” says the President,—takin’ aim at him as -if he was a mushrat—“I motion you set down and give him a chance to git -up and tell why he made the motion.” - -So the Editor of the Gimlet sot down, and Solomon Cypher riz up: - -“I stand on this ground,” (says he, stampin’ down his right foot,) “and -on this ground I make my motion:” (says he, stampin’ down his left one, -and smitin’ himself a almost dangerous blow in the breast,) “that this -society haint no place for wimmen. Her mind haint fit for it; ‘_fur -frummit_,’ as my honored friend, the President observes,—‘_fur -frummit_.’ There is deep subjects a goin’ to be brung up here, that is -all _my_ mind can do, to rastle with and throw ’em; and for a female -woman’s mind to tackle ’em, it would be like settin’ a pismire to move a -meetin’ house. Wimmen’s minds is weak.” - -Here he smote himself a fearful blow right in the pit of his stomach, -and repeated the words slowly and impressively: - -“Wimmen’s minds is weak. But this haint the main reason why I make my -motion. My main reason is, that I object, and I always will—while I have -got a breath left in my body—object to the two sexes a comin’—as my -honored friend the President says—‘in such close contract with each -other, as they would have to if wimmen took any part with men in such -public affairs.’ Keep separate from each other! that is my ground, and -that is my motion. Keep wimmen off as fur as you can, if you would be -safe and happy. Men has their place,” says he,—stridin’ forred a long -step with his right foot, and stretchin’ up his right arm nobly towards -the sky as fur as he could with safety to his armpit—“and wimmen has -hern!”—steppin’ back a long step with his left foot, and pintin’ down -with his left hand, down through a hole in the floor, into the -cellar—“and it is necessary for the public safety,” says he,—a smitin’ -his breast, first with his right hand and then with his left—“that he -keep hisen, and she hern. As the nation and individuals are a goin’ on -now, everything is safe.” (Here he stopped and smiled.) “The nation is -safe.” (Another smile.) “And men and wimmen are safe, for they don’t -come in contract with each other.” (Here he stopped and smiled three -times.) “But if wimmen are ever permitted in the future to take any part -in public affairs; if they are ever permitted to come in contract with -man, and bring thereby ruin, deep, deadly ruin onto Jonesville and the -world, I want Jonesville and the world to remember that I have cleared -_my_ coat-skirts in the matter. I lift ’em out of the fearful and -hazardous enterprise.” - -He had an old-fashioned dress coat on, with long skirts, that come most -to the floor, and as he said this, he lifted ’em up with a almost -commandin’ air, as if he was a liftin’ ’em out of black mud. He lifted -’em right up, and they stood out in front of his arms, some like wings; -and, as he stood lookin’ round the audience, in this commandin’ and -imposin’ position, he repeated the words in a more lofty and majestic -tone: - -[Illustration: A THRILLIN’ MOMENT.] - -“I clear _my_ coat-skirts of the hull matter. You _see_ me clear ’em. -None of the bloody ruin can be laid onto _my_ coat-skirts.” - -It was a thrillin’ moment. It had a terribly depressin’ effect on a -great many lovers of justice and wimmen’s votin’, who was present. They -see the dangers hedgin’ in the enterprise, as they never see ’em before. -They see the power of the foe they was fightin’ ag’inst, and trembled -and quailed before him. But though I realized well what was a goin’ on -before me, though I knew what a deadly blow he was a givin’ to the -cause, I held firm, and kep’ a cool mean, and never thought for half a -moment of givin’ up my shield. And then I knew it wasn’t so much his -words—although they was witherin’—as his lofty majesty of bearin’, that -influenced the almost breathless audience. He stood in that commandin’ -posture, I have described, for I should judge, nearly one moment and a -half, and then he repeated the words: - -“For I say unto you,”—and here he dropped his coat-skirts suddenly, and -struck himself in the breast a sudden and violent blow with his -thumb,—the fingers all standin’ out straight, like the bones of a -fan—“for I say unto you; and if these are the last words you shall ever -hear from my humble but perfectly honorable mouth,—remember, Jonesville -and the world, that I died a sayin’, beware of the female pole.” - -I never in my hull life heerd a pole sound so faint and sickly as that -pole did. It dwindled away almost to nothin’, and he kinder shet his -eyes up and sallied away, as if he was a goin to die off himself. It -skairt some of the wimmen most to death, it was so impressive; but I -knew it was all the effect of high trainin’; I knew he would come to in -a minute, and he did. Pretty soon he kinder repeated the words, in a -sickly tone: - -“Remember, I died a sayin’: beware of the female pole. Beware! beware!!” - -And oh, how skairt them wimmen was again; for he straightened right up -and yelled out them two bewares, like a couple of claps of thunder; and -his eyes kep’ a growin’ bigger and bigger, and his voice grew louder and -louder, till it seemed as if it would raise the very ruff—though it had -jest been new shingled, (cost the deestrick 20 dollars,)—and he looked -round the audience as wise as any owl I ever laid eyes on, and struck -himself a very fearful blow with his thumb, right on his stomach, and -says he: - -“Beware of bein’ infringed upon!”—and then followed another almost -dangerous blow—“Beware of that terrible and fearful day, when men and -wimmen shall come in contract with each other.” - -He stopped perfectly still, looked all round the house with that wise -and almost owl-like look on him, and then in a slow, impressive, and -eloquent manner, he raised his hands and struck his breast bone with -both thumbs and sot down. Some of the speakers seemed to be real envious -of his gestures, but they ort to have considered that it was all in -knowin’ how; it was all in practice. He’d probably studied on every -motion for days and days, and they hadn’t ort to have begreched ’em so -to him. But if he hadn’t never studied on elocution and impressive -gesturin’; if he hadn’t looked a mite like an owl for solemnity and -wisdom, his talk would have been dretful impressive and scareful to -some, he painted it all out in such high colors, what a terrible and -awful thing it would be for the two sects to ever come in “contract with -each other.” I s’pose he meant contact,—I haint a doubt of it. - -[Illustration: SUNDAY SLUMBERS.] - -Why, to have heerd him go on, if there had been a delegate present to -the “Creation Searchin’ Society,” from the moon—or any other world -adjacent to Jonesville—he wouldn’t have had any idee that men and wimmen -had ever got any nearer to each other than from half to three-quarters -of a mile. I s’pose I never could have made that foreigner believe, if I -had talked myself blind, that, for all Solomon Cypher showed such deadly -fear of men comin’ in “contract” with wimmen, he had lived with one -forty years; drinked out of the same dipper; slept together Sundays in -the same pew of the same meetin’ house; and brought up a big family of -childern together, which belonged to both on ’em. - -Howsumever, them was the facts of the case; but I let him go on, for -principle held me down, and made me want to know how it would end; -whether freedom, and the principles of our 4 fathers would triumph, or -whether they would be quirled up like caterpillers, and be trod on. - -I knew in my mind I shouldn’t git up and talk, not if they voted me in -ten times over, for reasons that I give more formally; and besides them -reasons, I was lame, and had ruther set and knit, for Josiah needed his -socks; and I have always said, and I say still, that a woman ort to make -her family comfortable, before she tackles the nation, or the heathen, -or anything. - -So they kep’ on a fightin’, and I kep’ on a knittin’; and upheld by -principle, I never let on but what I was dyin’ to git up and talk. They -got awful worked up on it; they got as mad as hens, every one on ’em, -all but Josiah. He sot by me as happy as you please, a holdin’ my ball -of yarn. He acted cleverer than he had in some time; he was awful clever -and happy; and so was I; we felt well in our 2 minds, as we sot there -side by side, while the fearful waves of confusion and excitement, and -Cornelius Cork and Solomon Cypher, was a tostin’ to and fro about us. - -And oh, how happyfyin’ and consolin’ and satisfyin’ to the mind it is, -when the world is angry and almost mad at you, to set by the side of -them you are attached to by links considerable stronger than cast iron. -In the midst of the wildest tempests, you feel considerable safe, and -some composed. No matter if you don’t speak a word to them, nor they to -you, their presence is sufficient; without ’em, though you may be -surrounded by admirin’ congregations, there is, as the poet says, “a -goneness;” the biggest crowds are completely unsatisfactory, and dwindle -down to the deepest lonesomeness. Though the hull world should be a -holdin’ you up, you would feel tottlin’ and lonesome, but the presence -of the one beloved, though he or she—as the case may be—may not be hefty -at all, still is large enough to fill a meetin’ house, or old space -himself without ’em; and truly, when heart leans upon heart, -(figgeratively speakin’) there is a rest in it that feather beds cannot -give, neither can they take away. My companion Josiah’s face shines with -that calm, reposeful happiness, when he is in my society, and I—although -I know not why I do—experience the same emotions in hisen. - -Finally, at half past eleven—and they was completely tuckered out on -both sides—the enemies of wimmen’s suffragin’ and justice, kinder all -put together and brought in a motion, Solomon Cypher bein’ chief bearer -and spokesman of the procession. They raised him up to this prominent -position, because he was such a finished speaker. The motion was clothed -upon in eloquent and imaginative language. Solomon Cypher never got it -up alone. Cornelius Cork, and the Editor of the Auger, and probable two -or three others had a hand in it, and helped git it up. It had a almost -thrillin’ effect on the audience; though, by jest readin’ it over, -nobody can git any clear idee how it sounded to hear Solomon Cypher -declaim it forth with appropriate and impressive gestures, and a lofty -and majestic expression onto him. This was the motion: - -“Be it resolved over, and motioned at, and acted upon by us, ‘Creation -Searchers and World Investigators,’ that wimmen’s body and mind, are -both of ’em, as much too weak and feeble to tackle the subjects that -will be brung up here, as a span of pismires are, to lay to and move a -meetin’ house.” - -After he had finished makin’ the motion, he stood a moment and a half -lookin’ round on the audience with a smile on his lips, while such is -the perfect control he has got by hard practice over his features, that -at the same time his mouth was a smilin’, there was a severe and even -gloomy expression on the upper part of his face, and an empty and vacant -look in his eyes. Then he smote himself meaningly and impressively in -the pit of his stomach, and sot down. And then, as it was considerable -still for a moment, I spoke calmly out of my seat to the Editor of the -Gimlet, who happened to be a standin’ near, and thanked him and the -others on his side, for their labors in my behalf, and told ’em I hadn’t -no idee of takin’ part in their Debatin’-school, (I called it so before -I thought,) and hadn’t had, none of the time. And then, with a calm and -collected mean onto me, I knit in the middle of my needle, and Josiah -wound up my ball of yarn, and we started for home. - -[Illustration: EDITOR OF THE GIMLET.] - -But I wasn’t goin’ to stay away from the Debatin’-school because they -looked down on the female sect and felt awful kinder contemptible -towards ’em. Other folks’es opinions of us hadn’t ort to influence us -ag’inst them. Because a person is prejudiced ag’inst me, and don’t like -me, that haint no reason why I shouldn’t honor what good qualities she -has, and respect what is respectable in him. (I don’t know jest how to -git the sect down, to git it right. I calculate to be very exact, as -strict and scientific as a yard-stick, even in the time of allegorin’; -but havin’ so much work, and the Widder Doodle on my hands, I haint -studied into it so deep as I had ort to, whether a Debatin’-school, in -the times of allegorin’, should be called a he, or a she.) - -But howsumever, as I said, I laid out to be present at ’em, jest the -same. And it was to this Debatin’-scho—I mean Lyceum, that the idee -first entered my head, of goin’ to Filadelfy village to see the -Sentinal; of which, more hereafter, and anon. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - - THE WIDDER DOODLE. - - -As I mentioned, more formally Josiah’s brother’s wife had come to live -with us. My opinion is she is most a natural fool; howsumever, bein’ one -of the relations on his side, I haint told her what I think of her, but -bear with her as I would wish the relations on my side to be bore with -by Josiah. How long she will live with us, that I don’t know. But she -haint no place to go to, and we can’t turn her out of doors; so it looks -dark to me, for it is a considerable sized tribulation, that I don’t -deny; fools was always dretful wearin’ to me. But I don’t ort to call -her a fool, and wouldn’t say it where it would git out, for the world. -But she don’t know no more’n the law’l allow, that I will contend for -boldly with my last breath. - -But if her principles was as hefty as cast-iron, and her intellect as -bright as it is t’other way—if it was bright as day—she would be a sort -of a drawback to happiness—anybody would, whether it was a he or a she. -Home is a Eden jest large enough to hold Adam and Eve and the family, -and when a stranger enters its gate to camp down therein for life with -you, a sort of a cold chill comes in with ’em. You may like ’em, and -wish ’em well, and do the best you can with ’em, but you feel kinder -choked up, and bound down; there is a sort of a tightness to it; you -can’t for your life feel so loose and soarin’ as you did when you was -alone with Josiah and the childern. - -But I am determined to put up with her and do the best I can. She hadn’t -no home, and was a comin’ on the town, so Josiah thought for the sake of -Tim—that was his brother—it was our duty to take her in and do for her. -And truly Duty’s apron strings are the only ones we can cling to with -perfect safety. Inclination sometimes wears a far more shining apron, -and her glitterin’ strings flutter down before you invitingly, and you -feel as if you must leggo of Duty, and lay holt of ’em. But my friends, -safety is not there; her strings are thin, and slazy, and liable to fall -to pieces any minute. But hang on to Duty’s apron strings boldly and -blindly, get a good holt and have no fear; let her draw you over rough -pathways, through dark valleys, up the mounting side, and through the -deep waters; don’t be afraid, but hang on. The string won’t break with -you, and the country she will lead you into is one that can’t be -bettered. - -Her first husband was Josiah’s only brother. He died a few years after -they were married, and then she married to another man, David Doodle by -name and a shiftless creeter by nater—but good lookin’, so I hearn. -Howsumever, I don’t know nothin’ about it only by hearsay, for I never -laid eyes on none of the lot till she come on to us for a home. They -lived out to the Ohio. But she fairly worships that Doodle to this day, -talks about him day and night. I haint heerd her say a dozen words about -Josiah’s brother Timothy, though they say he was a likely man, and a -good provider, and did well by her. Left her a good farm, all paid for, -and Doodle run through it; and five cows and two horses; and Doodle run -through them, and a colt. - -[Illustration: DAVID DOODLE.] - -But she don’t seem to remember that she ever had no such husband as -Timothy Allen, which I know makes it the more wearin’ onto Josiah, -though he don’t complain. But he thought a sight of Tim—they used to -sleep together when they was children, and heads that lay on the same -mother’s bosom, can’t git so fur apart but what memory will unite ’em. -They got separated when they grew up; Tim went to the Ohio to live, as I -say, but still, when Josiah’s thoughts git to travelin’, as thoughts -will,—I never see such critters to be on the go all the time—they take -him back to the old trundle-bed, and Tim. - -But she don’t mention brother Timothy only when Josiah asks her about -him. But Doodle! I can truly say without lyin’ that if ever a human -bein’ got sick of any thing on earth, I got sick of Doodle, sick enough -of him. Bein’ shet up in the house with her I sense it more than Josiah -does. It is Doodle in the morning, and Doodle at noon, and Doodle at -night, and Doodle between meals; and if she talks in her sleep—which she -is quite a case to—it is about Doodle. I don’t complain to Josiah much, -knowin’ it will only make his road the harder; but I told Thomas -Jefferson one day, after she had jest finished a story about her and -Doodle that took her the biggest part of the forenoon, for the -particulars that she will put in about nothin’, is enough to make any -body sweat in the middle of winter. She had went and lay down in her -room after she got through; and good land! I should think she would want -to—I should think she would have felt tuckered out. And I says to Thomas -Jefferson—and I sithed as I said it: - -“It does seem as if Doodle will be the death of me.” And I sithed again -several times. - -“Wall,” says he, “if he should, I will write a handsome piece of poetry -on it;” says he, “Alf Tennyson and Shakespeare have written some pretty -fair pieces, but mine shall - - “Beat the hull caboodle, - And the burden of the him shall be, - That mother died of Doodle.” - -I stopped sithin’ then, and I says to him in real severe tones, “You -needn’t laugh Thomas J., I’d love to see _you_ try it one day.” Says I, -“You and your father bein’ outdoors all day, when you come in for a few -minutes to your meals, her stiddy stream of talk is as good as a circus -to you, sunthin’ on the plan of a side show. But you be shet up with it -all day long, day after day, and week after week, and then see how you -would feel in your mind; then see how the name of Doodle would sound in -your ear.” - -But I try to do the best I can with her. As I said, how long she will -stay with us I don’t know. But I don’t s’pose there is any hopes of her -marryin’ again. When she first came to live with us, I did think—to tell -the plain truth—that she would marry again if she got a chance. I -thought I see symptoms of it. But it wasn’t but a few days after that -that I give up the hope, for she told me that it wasn’t no ways likely -that she should ever marry again. She talks a sight about Doodle’s face, -always calls it his ‘linement’, says it is printed on her heart, and it -haint no ways likely that she will ever see another linement, that will -look to her as good as Mr. Doodle’s linement. - -I declare for’t, sometimes when she is goin’ on, I have to call on the -martyrs in my own mind almost wildly, call on every one I ever heerd of, -to keep my principles stiddy, and keep me from sayin’ sunthin’ I should -be sorry for. Sometimes when she is goin’ on for hours about “Doodle and -his linement” and so forth, I set opposite to her with my knittin’ work -in my hand, with no trace on the outside, of the almost fearful tempest -goin’ on inside of me. There I’ll be, a bindin’ off my heel, or seamin’ -two and one, or toein’ off, as the case may be; calm as a summer mornin’ -on the outside, but on the inside I am a sayin’ over to myself in silent -but almost piercin’ tones of soul agony: - -“John Rogers! Smithfield! nine children, one at the breast! Grid-irons! -thum-screws! and so 4th, and so 4th!” It has a dretful good effect on -me, I think over what these men endured for principle, and I will say to -myself: - -“Josiah Allen’s wife, has not your heart almost burnt up within you a -thinkin’ of these martyrs? Have you not in rapped moments had longin’s -of the sole to be a martyr also? Lofty principle may boy the soul up -triumphant, but there can’t be anybody burnt up without smartin’, and -fire was jest as hot in them days as it is now, and no hotter. If David -Doodle is the stake on which you are to be offered up, be calm -Samantha—be calm.” - -[Illustration: WIDDER DOODLE.] - -So I would be a talkin’ to myself, and so she would be a goin’ on, and -though I have suffered pangs that can’t be expressed about, my -principles have grown more hefty from day to day. I begun to look more -lofty in mean, and sometimes I have been that boyed up by hard -principle, that jest to see what heights a human mind could git up on -to, while the body was yet on the ground, I would begin myself about -Doodle. And so, speakin’ in a martyr way, the Widder Doodle was not made -in vain. - -She is a small boneded woman, dretful softly lookin’; and truly, her -looks don’t belie her, for she seems to me _that_ soft, that if she -should bump her head, I don’t see what is to hinder it from flattin’ -right out like a piece of putty. I guess she was pretty good lookin’ in -her day; on no other grounds can I account for it, that two men ever -took after her. Her eyes are round as blue beads, and sort of surprised -lookin’, she is light complected, and her mouth is dretful puckered up -and drawed down. Josiah can’t bear her looks—he has told me so in -confidence a number of times—but I told him I have seen wimmen that -looked worse; and I have. - -“I have seen them that looked far better,” says he. - -“Who Josiah?” says I. - -Says he, “Father Smith’s daughter, Samantha.” - -Josiah thinks a sight of me, it seems to grow on him; and with me also, -it is ditto and the same. - -[Illustration: “THE VOYAGE OF LIFE.”] - -When two souls set out in married life, a sailin’ out on the sea of True -Love, they must expect to steer at first through rocks, and get tangled -in the sea weed, the rocks of opposing wills, and the sea weed of -selfishness. And before they get the hang of the boat it will go -contrary, squalls will rise and most upset it, and they’ll hist up the -wrong sails and tighten the wrong ropes and act like fools generally. -And they’ll be sick, very; and will sometimes look back with regret to -the lonesome, but peaceful shores they have left, and wish they hadn’t -never sot out. - -But if they’ll be patient and steer their boat straight and wise, a -calmer sea is ahead, deeper waters of trust and calm affection, in which -their boat will sail onwards first rate. They’ll git past the biggest -heft of the rocks, and git the nack of sailin’ round the ones that are -left so’s not to hit ’em nigh so often, and the sea weed, unbeknown to -them, will kinder drizzle out, and disappear mostly. - -I don’t have to correct Josiah near so much as I used to, though -occasionally, when I know I am in the right, I set up my authority, and -_will_ be minded; and he hisen. I never see a couple yet, whether they’d -own it or not, but what would have their little spats; but good land! if -they love each other they git right over it, and it is all fair weather -again. The little breeze clears the air, and the sun will shine out -again clear as pure water, and bright as a dollar. - -Sister Doodle, (Josiah thought it was best to call her so some of the -time, he thought it would seem more friendly) she says, the widder does, -that she never see a couple live together any happier and agreabler than -me and Josiah live together. She told me it reminded her dretfully of -her married life with Doodle. (Josiah had cooed at me a very little that -mornin’—not much, for he knows I don’t encourage it in him.) - -Truly Doodle is her theme, but I hold firm. - -She was a helpin’ me wash my dishes, and she begun: how much Josiah and -I reminded her of her and Doodle. - -Says she—“Nobody knows how much that man thought of me; he would say -sometimes in the winter when we would wake up in the mornin’: ‘My dear -Dolly,’—he used to call me that, though my name is Nabby, but he said I -put him in mind so of a doll, that he couldn’t help callin’ me so—‘My -dear Dolly,’ he’d say, ‘I have been a dreamin’ about you.’ - -“‘Have you Mr. Doodle?’ says I. - -“‘Yes,’ says he, ‘I have been a dreamin’ how much I love you, and how -pretty you are—jest as pretty as a pink posy.’ Them was Mr. Doodle’ses -very words: ‘a pink posy.’ - -“I’d say,—‘Oh shaw, Mr. Doodle, I guess you are tryin’ to foolish me.’ - -“Says he—‘I haint, I dremp it.’ And then there would come such a sweet -smile all over his linement, and he would say: - -“‘Dolly, I love to dream about you.’ - -“‘Do you, Mr. Doodle?’ says I. - -“‘Yes,’ says he, ‘and it seems jest as if I want to go to sleep and have -another nap, jest a purpose to dream about you.’ - -[Illustration: LOVE’S DREAM.] - -“And so I would git up and cut the kindlin’ wood, and build the fire, -and feed the cows, and go round the house a gettin’ breakfast, as still -as a mice so’s not to disturb him, and he’d lay and sleep till I got the -coffee turned out, then he’d git up and tell me his dream. It would be -all about how pretty I was, and how much he loved me and how he would -die for my sake any time to keep the wind from blowin’ too hard onto me. -And he would eat jest as hearty and enjoy himself dretfully. Oh! we took -a sight of comfort together, me and Mr. Doodle did. And I can’t never -forget him; I can’t never marry again, his linement is so stamped onto -my memory. Oh, no, I can’t never forgit his linement; no other man’s -linement can be to me what his linement was.” - -She stopped a minute to ask me where she should set the dishes she had -wiped, and I was glad of the respit, though I knew it would be but a -short one. And I was right, for in settin’ up the dishes, she see a -little milk pitcher that belonged to my first set of dishes; there was a -woman painted onto it, and that set her to goin’ again. Truly, there is -nothin’ on the face of the earth, or in the sky above, but what reminds -her, in some way, of Doodle. I have known the risin’ sun to set her to -goin’, and the fire-shovel, and the dust-pan. She held the pitcher -pensively in her hand a minute or two, and then she says: - -“This picture looks as I did, when I married Mr. Doodle. I was dretful -pretty, so he used to tell me; too pretty to have any hardships put onto -me, so he used to say. There was considerable talk about wimmen’s -votin’, about that time, and he said there wasn’t money enough in the -world to tempt him to let his Dolly vote. Anything so wearin’ as that, -he said he should protect me from as long as he had a breath left in his -body. He used to git dretful excited about it, he thought so much of me. -He said it would ‘wear a woman right out; and how should I feel,’ says -he, ‘to see my Dolly wore out.’ - -“He couldn’t use to bear to have me go a visitin’, either. He said -talkin’ with neighborin’ wimmen’ was wearin’ too, and to have to come -home and git supper for him after dark; he said he couldn’t bear to see -me do it. He never was no hand to pick up a supper, and I always had to -come home and git his supper by candle light—meat vittles; he always had -to have jest what he wanted to eat, or it made him sick, he was one of -that kind—give him the palsy. He never _had_ the palsy, but he always -said that all that kep’ him from it, was havin’ jest what he wanted to -eat, jest at the time he wanted it; and so he would lay down on the -lounge while I got his supper ready. I’d have to begin at the very -beginning, for he never was one of the men that could hang over the -tea-kettle, or git up potatoes, or anything of that sort; and I’d most -always have to build up the fire, for he thought it wasn’t a man’s place -to do such things. He was a dretful hand to want everybody to keep their -place; that was one reason why he felt so strong about wimmen’s votin’. -He had a deep, sound mind, my Doodle did. But, as I said, he’d lay on -the lounge and worry so about its bein’ too much for me; that, ruther -than make him feel so bad, I give up visitin’ almost entirely. But he -never worried about that, so much as he did about votin’; it seemed as -if the thought of that almost killed him. He said that with my health, -(I didn’t enjoy very good health then) I wouldn’t stand it a year; I -would wilt right down under it. Oh! how much that man did think of me! - -[Illustration: PRETTY HANDS AND EYES.] - -“When I would be a workin’ in the garden, (I took all the care of the -garden,) or when I would be a pickin’ up chips—we was kinder bothered -for wood—he’d set out on the back piazza with his paper, the Evenin’ -Grippher—awful strong paper against wimmen’s rights—and as I would be a -bringin’ my chips in, (we had a old bushel basket that I used,) he would -look up from his paper and say to me,—‘Oh, them pretty little hands, how -cunning they look, a quirling round the basket handles; and oh, them -pretty little eyes; what should I do if it wasn’t for my Dolly? And how -should I feel if them pretty little eyes was a lookin’ at the pole?’ -Says he, ‘It would kill me Dolly; it would use me right up.’ - -[Illustration: HELPING CHURN.] - -“And then, when I would be a churnin’—we had a good deal of cream, and -the butter come awful hard; sometimes it would take me most all day and -lame my back for a week—and when I would be a churnin’, he would be so -good to me to help me pass away the time. He would set in his rockin’ -chair—I cushioned it a purpose for him—and he would set and read the -Evenin’ Grippher to me; sometimes he would read it clear through before -I would fetch the butter; beautiful arguments there would be in it -ag’inst wimmen’s rights. I used to know the Editor was jest another such -a man as my Mr. Doodle was, and I would wonder how any livin’ woman -could stand out ag’inst such arguments, they proved right out so strong -that votin’ would be too much for the weaker sect, and that men wouldn’t -feel nigh so tender and reverential towards ’em, as they did now. - -“We wasn’t very well off in them days, for Mr. Doodle was obliged to -mortgage the farm I brought him when we was married, and it was all we -could do to keep up the money due on the mortgage, and father wouldn’t -help us much; he said we must work for a livin’, jest as he did; and the -farm kinder run down, for Mr. Doodle said he couldn’t go out to work and -leave me for a hull day, he worshiped me so; so we let out the place on -shares, and I took in work a good deal. When I was a workin’, Mr. Doodle -would set and look at me for hours and hours, with a sweet smile on his -linement, and tell me how delicate and pretty I was and how much he -thought of me, and how he would die and be skinned—have his hide took -completely off of him—before he’d let me vote, or have any other -hardship put on me. Oh! what a sight of comfort me and Mr. Doodle did -take together; and when I think how he died, and was a corpse—and he was -a corpse jest as quick as he was dead, Mr. Doodle was—oh how I do feel. -I can’t never forget him, his linement is so stamped onto my memory. I -never can forget his linement, never.” - -And so she’ll go on from hour to hour, and from day to day, about Doodle -and Wimmen’s Rights—Wimmen’s Rights and Doodle; drivin’ ahead of her a -drove of particulars, far, far more numerous than was ever heerd of in -Jonesville, or the world; and I—inwardly callin’ on the name of John -Rogers—hear her go on, and don’t call Doodle all to nothin’, or argue -with her on Wimmen’s Rights. My mean is calm and noble; I am nerved -almost completely up by principle; and then, it is dretful wrenchin’ to -the arm to hit hard blows ag’inst nothin’. - -Truly, if anybody don’t know anything, you can’t git any sense out of -’em. You might jest as well go to reckonin’ up a hull row of orts, -expectin’ to have ’em amount to sunthin’. Ort times ort is ort, and -nothin’ else; and ort from ort leaves nothin’ every time, and nothin to -carry; and you may add up ort after ort, all day, and you wont have -nothin’ but a ort to fall back on. And so with the Widder Doodle, you -may pump her mind till the day of pancakes, (as a profane poet -observes,) and you wont git anything but a ort out of it,—speakin’ in a -’rithmatic way. - -Not that she is to blame for it, come to look at it in a reasonable and -scientific sense. All figgers in life can’t count up the same way. -There’s them that count one,—made so; got a little common sense -unbeknown to them. Then there’s some that double on that, and count -two,—more sense, and can’t help it; and all the way up to nine; and then -there is the orts—made orts entirely unbeknown to them; and so, why -should figgers seven, or eight, or even nine, boast themselves over the -orts. - -Truly, we all have abundant reason to be humble, and feel a humiliatin’ -feelin’. The biggest figgers in this life don’t count up any too high, -don’t know any too much. And all the figgers put together, big and -little mingled in with orts, all make up a curious sum that our heads -haint strong enough to figger out straight. It is a sum that is bein’ -worked out by a strong mind above our’n, and we can’t see the answer -yet, none on us. - - 0000000000 - 0000000000 - ————— - 0000000000 - -[Illustration] - - - - - A DEBATE ON INTEMPERANCE. - - -Last Tuesday evenin’ the “Creation Searchin’ Society” argued on this -question. - -“Resolved; It is right to licence intemperance.” - -Cornelius Cork, the President, got up and give the question out, and -then a stern majestic look swept over his face, some like a thunder -cloud, and says he, pintin’ out his forefinger nobly: - -“Brother ‘Creation Searchers,’ and friends and neighbors promiscous. -Before we tackle this momentous subject to-night, I have got a little -act of justice to preform, which if I shirked out of doin’ of it, would -send my name down to posterity as a coward, a rank traitor, and almost a -impostor. The public mind is outraged at the present time, by officers -in high places provin’ traitors to their trust: traitors to the -confidin’ public that have raised ’em up to their high stations. The -public of Jonesville will find that _I_ am not one of that kind, that -_I_ am not to be trifled with, nor will _I_ be seduced by flattery or -gifts, to permit them that have raised me up to the height I now stand -on, to be trifled with.” - -Here he paused a moment, and laid his forefinger on his heart and looked -round on us, as if he was invitin’ us all to take our lanterns and walk -through it, and behold its purity. That gesture took dretful well with -the audience. The President realized it, he see what he had done, and he -kep’ the same position as he proceeded and went on. - -“Every one who was present at the last meetin’ of our ‘Creation -Searchin’ Society’ knows there was a disturbance there. They know and I -know that right in the midst of our most searchin’ investigations, some -unprincipled villain in the disguise of humanity outraged us, and -insulted us, and defied us by blimmin’; in other words by yellin’ out -‘Blim! Blim!’ every few minutes. And now I publicly state and proclaim -to that blimmer, that if he blims here to night, I will put the papers -onto him. I will set the law at him. I’ll see what Blackstone and Coke -has to say about blimmin’.” - -He hadn’t no more’n got the words out of his mouth, when “Blim!” came -from one side of the house, and “Blim! Blim!” came from the other side. -Nobody couldn’t tell who it was, there was such a crowd. Cornelius -Cork’s face turned as red as a root-a-bagy beet, and he yelled out in -the awfulest tone I had ever heerd him use—and if we had all been polar -bears right from the pole, he couldn’t have took a more deadly aim at us -with that awful forefinger: - -“Stop that blimmin’ instantly!” - -His tone was so loud and awful, and his gesture so fearfully commandin’ -and threatenin’, that the house was still as a mice. You could hear a -clothes-pin drop in any part of it. - -Here he set down, and the meetin’ begun. Elder Easy was on the -affirmative, and Thomas J. on the negative, as they call it. - -Elder Easy is a first-rate man, and a good provider, but awful -conservative. He believes in doin’ jest as his 4 fathers did every time -round. If anybody should offer to let him look at the other side of the -moon, he would say gently but sweetly: “No, I thank you, my 4 fathers -never see it, and so I would rather be excused from beholdin’ it if you -please.” He is polite as a basket of chips, and well meanin’; I haint a -doubt of it in my own mind. But he and Samantha Allen, late Smith, -differs; that female loves to look on every side of a heavenly idee. I -respect my 4 fathers, I think a sight of the old men. They did a good -work in cuttin’ down stumps and so 4th. I honor ’em; respect their -memory. But cities stand now where they had loggin’ bees. Times change, -and we change with ’em. They had to rastle with stumps and brush-heaps, -it was their duty; they did it, and conquered. And it is for us now, who -dwell on the smooth places they cleared for us, to rastle with principle -and idees. Have loggin’ bees to pile up old rusty brushwood of unjust -laws and customs, and set fire to ’em and burn ’em up root and branch, -and plant in their ashes the seeds of truth and right, that shall yet -wave in a golden harvest, under happier skies than ourn. If we don’t, -shall we be doin’ for posterity what they did for us? For we too are -posterity, though mebby we don’t realize it, as we ort to. - -[Illustration: THE AFFIRMATIVE.] - -But Elder Easy, although he lives in the present time, is in spirit a 4 -father, (though I don’t say it in a runnin’ way at all, for I like ’em, -have swapped hens with him and her, and neighbored with ’em -considerable.) He was on the likker side, not that he wants to get -drunk, or thinks anything particular of likker himself, but he believes -in moderate drinkin’ because his 4 fathers drank moderate. He believes -in licensin’ intemperance because his 4 fathers was licensed. And -Shakespeare Bobbet was on his side, and old Mr. Peedick, and the Editor -of the Auger, (he is a democrat and went for slavery strong, felt like -death when the slaves was set free, and now he wants folks to drink all -they can, goes for intemperance strong. He drinks, so they say, though I -wouldn’t have it go from Josiah or me for the world.) And Solomon Cypher -was on that side. He drinks. And Simon Slimpsey; howsumever, he haint of -much account anyway, he has almost ruined himself with the horrors. He -has ’em every day stiddy, and sometimes two and three times a day. He -told a neighborin’ woman that he hadn’t been out of ’em sense the day he -was married to Betsey, she was so uncommon mean to him. I told her when -she was a tellin’ me about it (she is a real news-bearer, and I didn’t -want to say anything she could carry back) I merely observed in a cool -way: “I have always had my opinion about clingers, and wimmen that -didn’t want no rights, I have kep’ my eye on ’em, I have kep’ my eye on -their husbands, and my mind haint moved a inch concernin’ them from the -place it stood in more formally.” I didn’t say no more, not wantin’ to -run Betsey to her back, and then truly, as a deep thinker observes in -one of his orations, “a dog that will fetch a bone, will carry one.” - -On Thomas Jefferson’s side was himself, the Editor of the Gimlet, Lawyer -Nugent, Doctor Bombus, Elder Morton, and Whitfield Minkley—six on each -side. Thomas Jefferson spoke first, and he spoke well, that I know. I -turned right round and give sister Minkley a proud happy look several -times while Thomas J. was a talkin’; she sot right behind me. I felt -well. And I hunched Josiah several times when he said his best things, -and he me, for we both felt noble in mind to hear him go on. - -His first speech was what they call an easy, or sunthin’ considerable -like that; Josiah said when we was a goin’ home that they called it an -essence, but I told him I knew better than that. He contended, and I -told him I would leave it to Thomas J. but it slipped my mind. -Howsumever it haint no matter; it is the thing itself that Josiah -Allen’s wife looks at, and not the name of it. The easy—or sunthin’ like -it,—run as follows: I believe my soul I can git the exact words down, -for I listened to it with every ear I had, and upheld by the thoughts of -the future generations, and the cause of Right, I kinder took it out of -his overcoat pocket the next day, and read it over seven times from -beginnin’ to end. I should have read it eight times, if I had had time. - -He seemed to be a pryin’ into what the chief glory and pleasure of -gettin’ drunk consisted in; he said the shame, the despair, and the ruin -of intemperance anyone could see. And he pictured out the agony of a -drunkard’s home, till there wasn’t a dry eye in my head, nor Josiah’s -nuther. And he said in windin’ up, (I shan’t put down the hull on’t, for -it would be too long) but the closin’ up of it was: - -“I don’t believe there is a sadder sight for men or angels, than to see -a man made in the image of God willfully casting aside his heritage of -noble and true manhood; slipping the handcuffs over his own wrists; and -offering himself a willing captive to the mighty but invisible wine -spirit. - -“No slave bound to the chariot wheels of a conqueror is so deplorable a -sight as the captive of wine. His face does not shine like the face of -an angel, as did a captive in the old time—but with so vacant and -foolish an expression, that you can see at once that he is hopelessly -bound, body, mind and soul to his conqueror’s chariot. And a wonderful -conqueror is he, so weak in seeming as to hide beneath the ruby glitter -of a wine cup, and yet so mighty as to fill our prisons with criminals, -our asylums with lunatics—and our graveyards with graves. Mightier than -Time or Death, for outstripping time, he ploughs premature furrows on -the brow of manhood and alienates affection Death has no power over. - -“I have often marvelled where the chief glory of dissipation came in. -Its evil effects were always too hideously palpable to be misunderstood; -but in what consists the gloating pleasure for which a man is willing to -break the hearts of those who love him, bring himself to beggary, endow -his children with an undeserved heritage of shame, destroy his -intellect, ruin his body, and imperil his soul, is a mystery. - -“I have wondered whether its chief bliss consisted in the taste of the -cup; if so, it must be indeed a delicious enjoyment, transitory as it -is, for which a man would be willing to loose earth and heaven. Or if it -were in that intermediate stage, before the diviner nature is entirely -merged in the animal—the foolish stage, when a man is so affectionately -desirous of doing his full duty by his hearers, that he repeats his -commonest remarks incessantly, with a thick tongue and thicker meaning, -and if sentimentally inclined, smiles, oh how feebly, and sheds such -very foolish tears. In lookin’ upon such a scene, another wonder awakens -in me, whether Satan, who with all his faults is uncommonly intelligent, -is not ashamed of his maudlin friend. Or is the consummation of glory in -the next stage, where with oaths and curses a man dashes his clenched -fists into the faces of his best friends, pursues imaginary serpents and -fiends, thrusts his wife and children out into the cold night of -mid-winter, and bars against them the doors of home. And home! what a -desecration of that word which should be the synonym of rest, peace and -consolation, is a drunkard’s home. Or is the full measure of pleasure -attained when he, the noblest work of God, is stretched out at his full -six feet length of unconsciousness, stupidity and degradation. - -“If there be a lonely woman amid the multitude of lonely and sorrowful -women, more to be pitied than another, I think it is a wife lookin’ upon -the one she has promised to honor, lying upon the bed with his hat and -boots on. Her comforter, who swore at her as long as he could speak at -all. Her protector, utterly unable to brush a fly from his own face. Her -companion, lying in all the stupor of death, with none of its solemn -dignity. As he is entirely unconscious of her acts, I wonder if she -never employs the slowly passing moments in taking down her old idol, -her ideal, from its place in her memory, and comparing it with its -broken and defaced image before her. Of all the poor broken idols, -shattered into fragments for the divine patience of womanhood to gather -together and cement with tears, such a ruin as this seems the most -impossible to mould anew into any form of comliness. And if there is a -commandment seemingly impossible to obey, it is for a woman to love a -man she is in deadly fear of, honor a man she can’t help bein’ ashamed -of, and obey a man who cannot speak his commands intelligibly.” - -It was a proud moment for Josiah Allen and me, to hear Thomas J. go on; -and to have the hull house so still, while he was makin’ his eloquent -speech, that you could hear a clothes-pin drop in any part of the room. -And though my companion, perfectly carried away by his glad emotions, -hunched me several time harder than he had any idee of, and almost gored -my ribs with his elbo, I didn’t, as you may say, seem to sense it at -all. And though in hunchin’ and bein’ hunched, I dropped more’n 20 -stitches in Josiah’s socks, I didn’t care for that a mite; I had plenty -of time to pick ’em up durin’ the next speech, which was the Editor of -the Auger’es, (he has got over the zebra, so’s to be out.) - -I have said, and I say still, that I never see a man that would spread a -idee out thinner than he will,—cover more ground with it. Talk about -Ingy Rubber stretchin’,—why that man will take one small thought and -pull it out and string on enough big words to sink it, seemin’ly. - -Howsumever, his talk did jest about as much good on Thomas J’s side, as -on hisen, for he didn’t seem to pay any attention to the subject, but -give his hull mind to stringin’ big words onto his idees, and then -stretchin’ ’em out as fur as human strength can go. That, truly, was his -strong pint. But jest as he bent his knees and begun to set down, he -kinder straightened up again and said the only thing that amounted to a -thing. He said,—“Keepin’ folks from sellin’ likker, is takin’ away their -rights.” - -[Illustration: NOT THE RIGHT KIND OF HORNS.] - -“Rights!” says Thomas Jefferson, jumpin’ upon his feet the minute he set -down. “Rights! The first right and law of our nature, is -self-preservation, and what safety has any man while the streets are -filled with men turned into crazed brutes by this traffic you are -upholdin’? Every one knows that a drunken man entirely loses for the -time his reasoning faculties, his morality and his conscience, and is -made ripe for any crime. That he is jest as ready to rob and murder -innocent citizens as to smoke his pipe. So if you and I lend our -influence and our votes to make intemperance legal, we make arson, -burglary, rape, robbery, murder, legal. Tell me a man has a right to -thus plant the seeds of crime and murder in a man’s soul, and imperil -the safety of the whole community. Why, the Bible says, that if a man -let loose a wild ox, and it gored men with its horns and killed them, -the men that let it go loose should surely be put to death.” - -Here Simon Slimpsey got up, kinder hangin’ on to the bench, and made a -dretful simple sort of a wink with one eye, and says he: - -“Them haint the kind o’ horns we are a talkin’ about, we are talkin’ -about takin’ a horn of whisky now and then.” - -“Yes,” said Thomas J. “there was never a more appropriate name; for if -there ever were horns that gored, and stabbed, and killed, it is these.” - -Elder Easy spoke out, and says he,—“The Bible says: ‘take a little wine -for the stomach sake.’” - -But Elder Morton jumped up, and says he,—“There was two kinds of likker -in earlier times; one that was unfermented and harmless, and contained -no alcohol or any principle of intoxication, and another that contained -this raging mocker.” - -Then old Peedick spoke up. Says he,—“Likker would be all right if it -wasn’t for the adultery in it: poison stuff, wormwood, and etcetery.” - -But Dr. Bombus jumped up, and says he,—“Nothing that can be put into it, -can be worse poison than the pure alcohol itself, for that is a rank -poison for which no antidote has ever been found; useful for medical -purposes, like some other poisons: arsenic, opium, laudanum, and so -4th.” - -But old Peedick kep’ a mutterin’,—“I know there’s adultery in it;” and -kep’ a goin’ on till Cornelius Cork, the President, sot him down, and -choked him off. - -Solomon Cypher spoke up, and says he: - -“No! licence bills don’t do no good; there is more likker drunk when -there haint no licence, than when there is. If you hinder one man from -sellin’ it, another will.” - -I declare, that excited me so, that entirely unbeknown to myself, I -spoke right out loud to Josiah: - -“Good land! of all the poor excuses I ever heerd, that is the poorest. -If I don’t kill my grandmother, somebody else will; or she’ll die -herself, of old age, or sunthin’; good land!” - -The sound of my voice kinder brought my mind back, and Josiah hunched me -hard, and I went to knittin’ dretful fast. Whitfield looked round to me -and kinder smiled, and says he, right out in meetin’: - -“That’s so, Mother Allen!” - -I declare for’t, I didn’t know whether I was seamin’ two and one, or -towin’ off, or in the narrowins. I was agitated. - -But Whitfield went right on, for it was his turn. His speech was about -licencing wrong: admitting a thing was wrong, evil in itself and evil in -its effects, and then allowin’ folks to carry on the iniquity, if they’d -pay enough for it. It was about givin’ folks the privilege of bein’ -mean, for money; about a nation sellin’ the right to do wrong, and so -4th. - -Whitfield done well; I know it, and Tirzah Ann knows it. Jest as quick -as he sot down, Solomon Cypher got up and says he—with an air as if the -argument he was about to bring forred, would bring down the -school-house, convince everybody, and set the question to rest forever: - -“The way I look at it, is this:” said he, (smitin’ his breast as hard as -I ever see a breast smote,) “if there haint no licence, if a man treats -me, and I want to treat him back again, where—” (and again he smote his -breast almost fearfully,) “_where_ will I git my likker to do it with.” - -“That’s so;” said Simon Slimpsey, “there he has got you; you can’t git -round that.” - -Then Thomas J. spoke and brought up facts and figgers that nobody -couldn’t git over, or crawl round; proved it right out, that -intemperance caused more deaths than war, pestilence, and famine; that -more than half the crimes committed in the United States could be traced -back to drink; and eighty out of every hundred was helped on by it. And -then he went on to tell how they transmitted the curse to their -childern, and how, through its effects, infant babes was born drunkards, -idiots, and criminals, entirely unbeknown to them; that the influence of -our free schools is destroyed by the influence of the other free schools -the nation allows for the childern of the people—the dram shops, and -other legalized places of ruin—that while the cries of the starving and -naked were filling our ears from all sides, seven hundred millions of -dollars were annually spent for intoxicatin’ drink. Instead of spendin’ -these millions for food and clothin’ for the perishin’, we spent them -for ignorance, beastliness, taxation, crime, despair, madness and death. -Says he: - -“The cost of likker-drinkin’, from 1861 to 1870, was six thousand -millions of dollars. Add to that, the labor in raisin’ the grain to make -it; all the labor of distillin’ it; all the loss of labor the drinkin’ -of it entailed; the sickness, deaths and crimes that resulted from its -use; the ships that went down in mid-ocean, through the drunkenness of -their crews—engulfin’ thousands of lives; the ghastly railroad accidents -that fill our newspapers with long death-lists; the suicides and -thousands of fatal accidents, all over the land, caused by it; the -robberies and murders, and the cost of tryin’ the criminals, buildin’ -the prisons, penitentiaries and jails, and supportin’ them therein; the -alms-houses for the paupers made by it; the asylums for the insane, and -the hirin’ of officers and attendants to take care of them. Imagine the -sum-total if you can, and add to it, the six thousand millions of -dollars,—and all spent for that which is not only useless, but ruinous. -And honest, sober citizens consent to have their property taxed to -support this system. - -“What if this enormous amount of money was spent by our government, for -the compulsory education of the childern of the poor; takin’ them from -their wretched haunts and dens—schools of infamy, where they are bein’ -educated in criminality—and teachin’ them to be honest and -self-supportin’. What a marvelous decrease of crime there would be; what -a marvelous increase of the national wealth and respectability.” - -He said he had been lookin’ upon the subject in a financial point of -view, for its moral effects could not be reduced to statistics. Says he: - -“Now, with our boasted civilization, we support four drinkin’ saloons to -one church. Which exerts the widest influence? In one of the finest -cities of New England, there are to-day, ten drinkin’ saloons to one -church, and a buildin’ owned by the Governor of the state has two -drinkin’ saloons in it, the rumsellers hiring directly of him. The -Indians, Buddhists, and Brahmins, the savage and heathen races, whom we -look down upon with our wise and lofty pity, are our superiors in this -matter, for they know nothin’ of drunkenness still we teach them. How -will it be looked upon by the Righteous Judge above, that with all our -efforts to evangelize the heathen; our money offerin’s of millions of -dollars; our life offerin’s of teachers and missionaries; our loud -talkin’, and our long prayers; after all the efforts of the Christian -world, the facts face us: that for one heathen who is converted to -Christ by the preachin’ of the tongue of our civilized race, one -thousand sober heathen are made drunkards by the louder preachin’ of our -example; are made by us—if we believe the Bible—unfit for ever enterin’ -the heaven we make such powerful efforts to tell them of.” - -“And” says he, “the sufferin’ intemperance has caused cannot possibly be -reckoned up by figgers,—the shame, disgrace, and desolation, -wretchedness to the guiltless, as well as the guilty. The blackness of -despair that is dark enough to veil the very heavens from innocent eyes, -and make them doubt the existence of a God—who can permit a nation to -make such a traffic respectable and protect it with the shadow of the -law.” - -Says he, “When you have licenced a man to sell likker, and protected him -by the law you have helped to make, he sells a pint of likker to a -drunkard; do you know what you and he are sellin’? You know you are -sellin’ poverty, and bodily ruin, and wretchedness; this you know. But -you may be sellin’ a murder, a coffin and a windin’-sheet; sellin’ -broken hearts, and a desolate hearth-stone; sufferin’ to the innocent, -that will outlast a life-time; ruin, disgrace, despair, and the -everlastin’ doom of a deathless soul. Tell me any one has a right to do -this? Men in their greed and self interest may make their wretched laws -to sanction this crime, but God’s laws are mightier and will yet -prevail.” - -Every word Thomas J. said went right to my heart. You see, a heart where -a child’s head has laid—asleep or awake—till it has printed itself -completely onto it, that heart seems to be a holdin’ it still when the -head’s got too large to lay there bodily (as it were.) Their wrong acts -pierce it right through, and their noble doin’s cause it to swell up -with proud happiness. - -Dr. Bombus bein’ dretful excited riz right up, and says he, “How any -good man can sanction this infamous traffic, how any minister of the -Gospel-—” But here the President made the Dr. set down, for it was Elder -Easy’s turn. - -And the Elder got up. I see he was kinder touched up by what the Dr. had -said, and he made a long speech about what he thought it was a -minister’s place to do. He thought it wasn’t their place to meddle in -political matters. I kinder got it into my head from what he said, -though he didn’t say it right out, that he thought there was bad men -enough to make our laws without good men meddlin’ with ’em. And in -windin’ up he said he thought ministers took too active a part in the -Temperance move; he heerd of ministers preachin’ sermons about it on -Sunday, and though he had no doubt they meant well, still, he must say -he thought there was other subjects that was better fitted for good men -to hold forth and improve upon. He thought the cross of Christ, warnin’ -sinners to keep out of a future hell, was better subjects for ’em, and -then he said the Bible was full of beautiful themes for Sunday -discourses, such as the possibility of recognizin’ our friends in a -future world, and so 4th. - -Thomas J. got up and answered him. - -Says he, “The subject of recognizin’ our friends in a future world is a -beautiful one, and worthy of much thought. But I think it is commendable -to try to keep our friends in a condition to recognize us in this world, -try to keep a man while he is alive, so he will know his own wife and -children, and not turn them out into the storm of a winter midnight, and -murder them in his mad frenzy.” - -Jest at this minute—when Thomas J. was goin’ on his noblest—some -unprincipled creeter and no nothing,—whoever it was—yelled out “Blim!” -again, and Cornelius Cork, the President, bein’ on a keen watch for -iniquities, jumped out of his seat as if he had been shot out of it with -a shot-gun. And he lifted up his head nobly and walked down the aisle of -the school-house, in jest that proud triumphant way that Napoleon walked -along on top of the Alp, and with that same victorious mean of a -conqueror onto him, with his forefinger pinted out firmly and calmly, -and almost nobly, he exclaimed in loud, glad tones, and the majesticest -I ever heerd in my life: - -[Illustration: THE BLIMMER CAUGHT.] - -“I’ve catched him at it! I’ve catched the blimmer! I heerd him blim! I -seen him! I seen him when he was a blimmin’! Ike Gansey, I fine you ten -cents and cost for _blimmin_.” - -Here he collared him, dragged him out by the seat of his breeches, and -shet the door in his face, and came back pantin’ for breath, but proud -and victorious in his mean. Then the Editor of the Auger got up to make -the closing speech, when all of a sudden the door opened, and in walked -Miss Gowdey. I thought in a minute she looked dretful kinder flustrated -and awe-struck. She sot right down by me—Josiah had gone across the -school-house to speak to Whitfield on business—and says I: - -“What is the matter, sister Gowdey!” (sister in the church;) says I: -“you look as white as a white woolen sheet.” - -Then she says to me and sister Minkley; says she: - -“Sunthin’ dretful has happened!” - -“What is it?” says I. - -“Do tell us sister Gowdey!” says sister Minkley. - -Says she, “You know how cold it is!” - -Says I, “I _guess_ I do; Josiah froze one of his ears a comin’ here -to-night, as stiff as a chip offen the north pole.” - -“And our buttery shelves froze for the first time in years,” says sister -Minkley. - -[Illustration: FOUND DEAD.] - -“Well,” says she “Willie Harris, Widder Harris’es Willie, was found -froze to death in that big snow drift jest the other side of the canal. -You know sense they licenced that new drinkin’ saloon, Willie has got -into bad company, and he left there late last night, after he and a hull -party of young fellers had been a drinkin’ and carousin’; he couldn’t -hardly stand up when he left, and they s’pose he lost his way and fell -in the snow; and there he was, jest the other side of his mother’s, half -covered up in the snow; some boys that were skatin’ on the canal found -him jest at dark. I never see such a house in my life; the Dr. thinks it -will kill his mother, you know she has worked so hard to educate him, -almost killed herself, and was happy a doin’ it; she loved him so, and -was so proud of him; and she has such a loving, dependent nature; such a -affectionate tender-hearted little woman; and Willie was all she had. -She lays there, lookin’ like a dead woman. I have been there all the -evenin’.” - -All the while Miss Gowdey was a speakin’, my heart kep’ a sinkin’ lower -and lower, further and further down every minute, till I declare for’t, -I didn’t know where it would go to, and I didn’t much care. Willie -Harris! that handsome, happy boy that had sot on my knee a hundred times -with my Thomas Jefferson; played with him, slept with him. That bright -pretty boy, with his frank generous face, his laughing blue eyes, and -his curly brown hair—his mother’s pride and darling. Oh! what feelin’s I -felt. And then all of a sudden, my heart took a new start, and sunk down -more’n two inches I’ll bet, at one sinkin’, as a thought gripped holt of -me. What if it had been my Thomas Jefferson! And as that thought tackled -me, without mistrustin’ what I was a doin’ I turned round in my seat and -spoke right out loud to sister Minkley. Says I: - -“Sister Minkley what if it was my Thomas Jefferson that was murdered -accordin’ to law? What if it was _my_ boy that was layin’ out there -under the snow?” - -Sister Minkley had her white linen handkerchief up to her eyes, and she -didn’t say a word; but she give several sithes, awful deep; she has got -a mother’s heart under her breast bone; she has had between twelve and -thirteen childern of her own, and they was on her mind. She couldn’t -speak a word, but she sithed powerful, and frequent. But though I was as -agitated as agitated could be, and though there wasn’t a dry eye in my -head, I began to feel dretful eloquent in mind; my soul soared up -awfully, and I kep’ on: - -Says I, “Sister Minkley, how can we mother’s live if we don’t put our -shoulder blades to the wheel?” says I, “we must put ’em there whether or -no; we are movin’ the wheel one way, or the other anyway. In this, as in -every other reform, public sentiment has got to work with the law, stand -behind the law and push it ahead of it, or else it wont never roll -onward to victory.” Says I, “It is a wheel that is loose jinted, the -spokes are sot loose on the hub; it is slippery, and easy to run -backwards; it is always easier to push anything down hill than up, and -there is far more pushers in that direction. And one of the solemnest -things I ever see, sister Minkley, is this thought—that you and I, and -everybody else is a pushin’ it one way or the other every day of our -lives; we can’t shirk out of it, we are either for it or ag’inst it. A -man or a woman can’t git away from castin’ their influence one way or -the other no more than they can git away from their shadder on a desert, -with the sun bilein’ down on ’em, and no shade trees in sight. There -haint no trees tall enough to hide us from the blazin’ sun of God’s -truth; this cause is before us, and we must work with God or ag’inst -him.” - -“Amen!” says sister Minkley out from under her white linen handkerchief, -and she sithed hard. - -“How can we help workin’, sister Minkley? How can we fold our hands up, -and rest on our feather beds? If a deadly serpent had broke loose from -some circus, and was a wreathin’ and twistin’ his way through -Jonesville, swallerin’ down a man or a woman every few days, would men -stand with their hands in their pockets, or a leanin’ up ag’inst -barn-doors a whittlin’; arguin’ feebly from year to year, whether it was -best to try to catch the serpent and cut its head off, or whether it was -best after all to let him go free? After they had seen some of their -best friends swallered down by it, wouldn’t they make an effort to -capture it? Wouldn’t they chase it into any hole they could get it into? -Wouldn’t they turn the first key on it they could git holt of? And if it -broke loose from that, wouldn’t they try another key, and another, till -they got one that would holt him? - -“Do you s’pose they would rent out that serpent at so much a year to -crunch and swaller folks accordin’ to law? And would it be any easier -for the folks that was crunched and swallered, and for the survivin’ -friends of the same, if they was killed by act of Congress? What would -such a law be thought of sister Minkley? and that is nothin’ to the -wickedness of the laws as they be. For what is one middlin’ sized -serpent in a circus, that couldn’t eat more’n one man a week with any -relish, to this of intemperance that swallers down a hundred thousand -every year, and is as big as that Great Midgard serpent I have heerd -Thomas J. read about, whose folds encompass the earth.” - -Sister Minkley sithed so loud that it sounded some like a groan, and I -kep’ on in a dretful eloquent way: - -“We have got to take these things to home sister Minkley, in order to -realize ’em. Yours and mine, are as far apart as the poles when we are -talkin’ about such things. As a general rule we can bear other folks’es -trials and sufferin’s with resignation. When it is your brother, and -husband, that is goin’ the downward road, we can endure it with -considerable calmness; but when it is a part of my own heart, _my_ -Willie, or _my_ Charley that is goin’ down to ruin, we feel as if men -and angels must help rescue him. When it is mine, when it is mother’s -boy that is lyin’ murdered by this trade of death—when the cold snow has -drifted down over the shinin’ curls that are every one wove into her -heart strings, and the colder drifts of disgrace and shame are heaped -over his memory—how does the poison look to her that has killed her -darling? How does the law that sanctions the murder seem to her? Then it -is that yours and mine draw near to each other. It is the divine -fellowship of suffering our Lord speaks of, that brings other hearts -near to ours, makes us willin’ to toil for others, live for them, die -for them if need be. It was this, that sent forth that wonderful Woman’s -Crusade, made tender timid women into heroes willin’ to oppose their -weakness to banded strength. It was this that made victory possible to -them. - -“When a king was chosen in the old time to lead the people of the Lord -to victory, he was consecrated by the touch of a royal hand. And it was -these women, weak and tender, touched with the divine royalty of sorrow, -that God chose to confound the mighty. - -“And other great souled women, who loved the praise of God better than -the praise of the world, joined ’em; they swept over the land, the most -wonderful army that was ever seen. Conquerin’ minds and hearts, instead -of bodies, with tears and prayers for weapons. Hindered not by ridicule, -helped by angels, enduring as seeing Him who is invisible, conquerin’ in -His name. What was the Crusade to the Holy Land that I have heerd Thomas -J. read about, to this? That was to protect the sepulchre where the body -of our Lord was once laid, but this was to defend the living Christ, the -God in man.” - -I don’t know how much longer I should have kep’ on, for I seemed to feel -more and more eloquent every minute—if I hadn’t all of a sudden heerd a -little low modest snore right in front of me, and I see sister Minkley -was asleep, and that brung my senses back as you may say, and when I -took a realizin’ sense of my situation, and see how still the -school-house was and everybody a listenin’ to me, I was completely -dumbfounded to think I had spoke right out in meetin’ entirely unbeknown -to me. - -Cornelius Cork the President was a sheddin’ tears, though bein’ a man he -tried to conceal ’em by blowin’ his nose and coughin’ considerable hard. -But coughin’ couldn’t deceive me; no! the whoopin’ cough couldn’t, not -if he had whooped like an Injun’s warwhoop. I see ’em, I had my eye on -’em. - -You see he was own cousin to Willie Harris on his mother’s side—Willie’s -mother and his, was own sisters. They was old Joe Snyder’ses girls by -his first wife. - -Cornelius Cork never asked a person to judge on the question, or vote on -it, or anything. He jest jumped right up onto his feet, and says he in a -real agitated and choked up voice: - -“It is decided, that it is wrong to licence intemperance.” And then he -coughed again awful hard. And Lawyer Nugent got up and said sunthin’ -about adjournin’ the meetin’ till “Sime-die.” Though what Simon he -meant, and what ailed Sime, and whether he died or not, I don’t know to -this day no more than you do. Howsumever, we all started for home. - -[Illustration] - - - - - TIRZAH ANN AS A WIFE. - - -Tirzah Ann was to home a visitin’, yesterday. They keep house in part of -Brother Minkley’ses house, for this winter. Brother Minkley’ses house is -a bigger one than they need, or can furnish, and it is handy for -Whitfield on account of its bein’ near to the law office where he learnt -his trade. But Whitfield lays out to open a office of his own next -summer. Everybody says he will do well, for the lawyer he learnt his -trade of, has a awful creek in his back most the hull time. If he is a -tryin’ anybody, or a swearin’ anybody,—right when he is a usin’ the -biggest words, a tryin’ and a swearin’—he is liable to crumple right -down, and be carried out with that creek,—no dependence on him at all; -and lawyer Snow has got so rich that he don’t care whether he works at -his trade or not; so there seems to be a clear road for Whitfield. - -And they are a goin’ to have a house of their own, before long,—though -nobody knows a word about it, only jest Tirzah Ann’s pa, and me. I atted -Josiah to give Tirzah Ann her portion, now. Says I,—“They are a stiddy, -likely, equinomical couple, and wont run through it; why not give ’em a -start now, when they need it, as well as to wait till you and I die, and -have ’em kinder lookin’ forred and ‘hankerin’ after our shoes,’ as the -poet says.” Says I,—“give her her talent now, Josiah, and let her -improve on it.” Says I,—“less buy ’em a house, Josiah Allen; they wont -run through it, I know they wont.” - -I would sejest this to Josiah Allen, every little while; but he hung -off. Josiah is close, (but honest.) But I kep’ a sejestin’ and I kep’ a -’swaidin’, and finally he give his consent. - -We are goin’ to buy ’em a neat little cream-colored house, with green -blinds, right on the age of the village. We have got our eyes on it now, -Josiah and me have; and to speak more plain, and let out a secret—which -_mustn’t go no further_—we have got a contract of it. The man can’t give -a clear deed till 1st of September. - -This house and the one next to it—which is jest exactly like it—are -kinder set off by themselves, and are the handsomest, pleasantest places -in Jonesville, and everybody says so. I told Josiah he couldn’t do -better than to buy one of ’em, and he sees it now; he feels well. - -In the back garden is fruit trees of all kinds, and berry vines, and -bushes, and a well of soft water; two acres of land, “be it more or -less: to wit, namely, and so 4th, a runnin’ up to a stake, and back -again, to wit.” - -Josiah read it all off to me; he is a great case to read deeds and -insurance papers, and so 4th. He thinks they are dretful agreeable -readin’. - -I know when we was first married, and he wanted to use me so awful -well,—bein jest married, he naturally wanted to make himself agreeable -and interestin’ to me—and so to happyfy me and keep me from bein’ -homesick, and endear himself still more to me, he would draw out his tin -trunk from under the bed, and read over deeds and mortgages to me by the -hour. But I didn’t encourage him in it, and kinder broke it up; but he -loves to read ’em to this day; and I felt so neat over this contract, -that I let him read the hull thing right through, and was glad to hear -it, though it took him one hour by the clock. He reads slow, and then -there was so many whereases, and namelys, and to wits, that he would git -baulked every few minutes. He would git to wanderin’ round in ’em—git -perfectly lost—and I’d have to lay holt and help him out. - -We are goin’ to git a deed of the house, unbeknown to Whitfield and -Tirzah Ann, and make ’em a present of it. They was married the 14th day -of September, at 4 o’clock in the afternoon—jest the time Josiah was -born—so I told Josiah that I would bake up as nice vittles as I could, -and enough of ’em,—enough to last a week or ten days—and we would have -supper all ready in the new house, jest the day of the month and the -time of the day he was born and they was married, and invite ’em over; -and we’d have Thomas Jefferson and Maggie Snow, and the Widder Doodle, -and turn it into a sort of 4th of July,—keep the day in a kind of a -camp-meetin’, holiday style. - -I believe in workin’ and earnin’ your honest bread, etc. and so 4th; but -still, I believe in makin’ things agreeable and pleasant, very. We -Americans, as a nation, are a dretful anxious-lookin’, hard-workin’, -long-faced, ambitious, go-ahead race, and we tackle a holiday as if it -was a hard day’s work we had got to git through with jest as quick as we -could; and we face enjoyments with considerable the same countenance we -do funerals. But I am layin’ out now to take a good deal of comfort the -14th of next September, Providence permittin’. - -I think a sight of Tirzah Ann. I’ve done well by her, and she sees it -now; she thinks a sight of old mother, I can tell you. She enjoys -middlin’ poor health, now-a-days, and her pa and I feel anxious about -her, and we talk about her a good deal nights, after we git to bed; and -I wake up and think of her considerable, and worry. - -And truly, if anybody is goin’ to set up in the worry business, nights -is the best time for it in the hull twenty-four hours; middlin’-sized -troubles swell out so in the dark; tribulations that haint by daylight -much bigger’n a pipes-tail, at midnight will look bigger’n a barn. I -declare for’t, I’ve had bunnets before now, that didn’t suit me,—was -trimmed up too gay, or come over my face too much, or sunthin’, and when -I’d wake up in the night and think on ’em, they’d look as big to me as a -bushel basket, and humblier; and I’d lay and sweat to think of ever -wearin’ ’em to meetin’; but at daylight, they would kinder dwindle down -again to their natural shape. And so with other sufferin’s that come -tougher to me to bear. When I was a bringin’ up Thomas Jefferson, tryin’ -to git him headed right, how many times he has stood before me at -midnight a black-leg—his legs as black as a coal, both of ’em;—a pirate; -a burglar; he has burgled his pa and me, night after night; set -Jonesville afire; burnt New York village to ashes; and has swung himself -on the gallows. - -And Tirzah Ann has had cancers; and childern; and consumptions; and has -been eloped with; and drownded in the canal, night after night; but good -land! in the mornin’ the childern was all right. The sunshine would -shine into my heart like the promises in the Bible to them that try to -bring up their childern in the fear of the Lord; and I could lay holt of -them promises and feel first rate. - -And Josiah Allen! I s’pose I have buried that man as many times as he -has got hairs on his head, (he is pretty bald) when he’d have a cold or -anything. I’d wake up in the latter part of the night, when it was dark -as Egyptian darkness, and I’d git to thinkin’ and worryin’, and before I -knew it, there Josiah would be all laid out and the procession a -meanderin’ off towards Jonesville buryin’ ground, and I a follerin’ him, -a weepin’ widder. And there I’d lay and sweat about it; and I’ve gone so -far as to see myself lay dead by the side of him, killed by the feelin’s -I felt for that man; and there we’d lay, with one stun over us, a -readin’: - - “Here lays Josiah and Samantha; - Their warfare is accomplished.” - -Oh! nobody knows the feelin’s I would feel there in the dead of night, -with Josiah a snorin’ peacefully by my side. But jest as quick as the -sun would rise up and build up his fire in the east, and Josiah would -rise up and build up his fire in the stove, why them ghosts of fears and -anxieties that haunted me, would, in the language of the poem Thomas J. -was readin’ the other day:—Fold up their tents like an Arab man and -silently go to stealin’ somewhere else. And I’d git up and git a -splendid breakfast, and Josiah and I would enjoy ourselves first rate. - -There is sunthin’ in the sunlight that these phantoms can’t stand; -curious, but so it is. Their constitution seems to be like the Serious -flower that blows out in the night. These serious ghosts—as you may -say—are built jest right for livin’ in the dark; they eat darkness and -gloom for a livin’, die off in the daytime, and then resurrect -themselves when it comes dark, ready to tackle anybody again, and haunt -’em, and make ’em perfectly miserable for the time bein’. But truly, I -am a episodin’; and to resoom and go on: - -Tirzah Ann, as I said, come down a visitin’; she brought down a little -pail of canned sweet corn, all fixed for the table. I thought that sweet -corn would be the death of the Widder Doodle; it made her think so of -Doodle. - -“Oh!” says she, “when I think how I used to raise sweet corn in my -garden, and how Mr. Doodle would set out on the back stoop and read to -me them beautiful arguments ag’inst wimmen’s rights, when I was a hoein’ -it; and how he would enjoy eatin’ it when I’d cook it, it seems as if I -can’t stand it; and shant I never see that man?” says she, “shant I -never see that dear linement again?” - -And she out with her snuff handkerchief and covered her face with it. -Whether she cried or not, I don’t know. I shant say she did, or didn’t; -but she went through with the motions, that I know. - -Tirzah Ann was all offen the hooks, yesterday, she felt down-hearted and -nervous. She is dretful nervous lately; but I tell Josiah that I’ve seen -other wimmen jest as nervous, and I have; and they got over it, and -Tirzah Ann will. There was she that was Celestine Gowdey, she was so -nervous—I’ve heerd her mother say—her husband was most afraid of his -life; she would throw anything at him—the tea-pot, or anything—if he -said a word to her she didn’t like; scalded him a number of times, real -bad. But he, bein’ considerable of a family man—he had had three wives -and fourteen or fifteen childern, before he married Celestine—didn’t -mind it, knowin’ what wimmen was, and that she’d git over it and she -did; and so will Tirzah Ann. It comes considerable hard on Whitfield -now, but he will git over it and wont mind bein’ scolded at, if it -rains, or if it don’t rain, or if the old cat has kittens. - -After dinner the Widder Doodle went up stairs and laid down for a nap, -as she makes a practice of doin’ every day; and glad enough was I to see -her go. And after she had laid down and our ears had got rested off, and -I had got the work all done up, and Tirzah Ann and me had sot down to -our sewin’—she was doin’ some fine sewin’ and I laid to and helped -her—as we sot there all alone by ourselves she began on me, and her face -lengthened down a considerable number of inches longer than I had ever -seen it as she went on: - -She was afraid Whitfield didn’t think so much of her as he used to; he -didn’t act a mite as he used to when he was a courtin’ of her. Didn’t -kiss her so much in a week now, as he used to one Sunday night. Didn’t -set and look at her for hours and hours at a time, as he did then. -Didn’t seem to be half as ’fraid of her wings spreadin’ out, and takin’ -her up to heaven. Didn’t seem to be a bit afraid of her goin’ up bodily. -Didn’t call her “seraph” any more, or “blessed old honey-cake,” or -“heavenly sweetness,” or “angel-pie.” About all he called her now -besides Tirzah Ann, was “my dear.” - -[Illustration: THE NERVOUS WOMAN.] - -I see in a minute the cause of the extra deprested look onto her face -that day, I see in a minute “where the shoe pinched” as the poet says. -And I see here was a chance for me to do good; and I spoke up real -earnest like, but considerable calm, and says I: - -“Tirzah Ann, that is a first-rate word, and your husband Whitfield -Minkley hits the nail on the head every time he says it. ‘Dear!’ that is -jest what you are to him, and when he puts the ‘my’ onto it that tells -the hull of the story; you are dear, and you are hisen, that is the hull -on’t.” Says I, in a real solemn and almost camp-meetin’ tone, “Tirzah -Ann you are a sailin’ by that rock now that the happiness of a great -many hearts founder on, that a great many life boats are wrecked on.” -Says I, “lots of happy young hearts have sailed smilin’ out of the -harbor of single blessedness, hit ag’inst that rock and gone down; don’t -you be one of ’em;” says I, “don’t make a shipwreck of the happiness of -T. A. Minkley late Allen; histe up the sail of common sense and go round -the rock with flyin’ colors,” and says I in agitated tones, “I’ll help -you, I’ll put my shoulder blades to the wheel.” And I continued in -almost tremblin’ tones—as I trimmed off the edge of the linen cambric, -and went to overcastin’ of it: - -“I never could bear to see anybody want to set down and stand up at the -same time,” says I, “it always looked so unreasonable to me.” And says -I: “Tirzah Ann, you are in the same place; you want to be courted, and -you want to be married at the same time; you want a husband and you want -a bo out of the same man, simultaneous, as it were.” - -Says I: “Truly we can’t have everything we want at one time. There is a -time for apple trees to blow out, rosy color—sweet—with honey bees a -hummin’ round ’em; and there is a time for the ripe fruit, and apple -sass. We can’t have good sleighin’ in hot weather, we can’t be drawed -out to a peach tree to eat ripe peaches on a hand sled. Slidin’ down -hill is fun, but you can’t slide down hill over sweet clover blows, for -clover and snow don’t blow out at the same time. And you can’t have -peace, and rest, and quiet of mind, at the same time with delerious -enjoyment, and highlarious mirth. - -“There is as many kinds of happiness as ‘there is stars in the heavens,’ -and no two stars are alike, they all differ from each other in their -particular kind of glory. - -“Now courtin’ is considerable fun, sunthin’ on the plan of catchin’ a -bird, kind o’ resky and uncertin’ but excitin’ like, and considerable -happyfyin’. To set down after a good supper, contented and quiet, by a -bright fireside with your knittin’ work, and your affectionate pardner -fast asleep and a snorin’ in the arm chair opposite, is another kind of -happiness, nothin’ delerious nor highlarious about it, but considerable -comfortin’ and consolin’ after all. Now you have got a good affectionate -husband Tirzah Ann, a man that will look out for your comfort, do well -by you, and be a good provider; and you musn’t expect to keep the lover; -I mean, you musn’t expect him to go through with all the performances he -used to when he was tryin’ to get you; why it is as unreasonable as -anything in the world can be unreasonable.” - -“Now” says I, “there’s your pa and me, Tirzah Ann; we have lived -together in the neighborhood of twenty years, and we are attached to -each other with a firm and cast-iron affection, our love for each other -towers up like a pillow. But if that man should go to talkin’ to me as -he used to when he came a courtin’ me, I’d shet him up in the smoke -house, for I should be afraid of him, I’ll be hanged if I shouldn’t; I -should think he was a luny. - -“I s’pose he thought it was necessary to go through with all them -mysterious, curious performances,—talkin’ strange; praisin’ me up to the -skies; runnin’ other wimmen down to the lowest notch; jealous of likely -men; actin’ wild, spooney; eyein’ me all the time as close as if he was -a cat, and I was a rat hole; writin’ the curiousest letters to me; -threatenin’ to kill himself if I wouldn’t have him; and jumpin’ up as if -he would jump out of his skin, if I went to wait on myself any, pick up -a ball of yarn, or open a door or anything. I s’pose he thought he had -got to go through all this, or else it wouldn’t be courtin’. But good -land! he couldn’t keep it up, I hadn’t no idee he could, or he couldn’t -get no rest nor I nuther. It wore on me, he used to talk so dretful -curious to me, so ’fraid I’d get killed or wait on myself a little or -sunthin’; and eat! why I s’pose he eat next to nothin’, till I promised -to have him. Why! when we got engaged he wasn’t much more’n skin and -bones. But good land! he eats enough now to make it up; we hadn’t been -married a month before he’d eat everything that was put before him, and -instead of settin’ down and talkin’ strange at me, or jumpin’ up as if -he was shot to open the door—so ’fraid that I would strain myself -openin’ a door;—why, he would set and whittle and let me wait on myself -jest as natural—let me sprain my back a reachin’ for things at the -table, or bring in wood, or anything. Or he would drop to sleep in his -chair, and sleep most the hull evenin’ he felt so contented and happy in -his mind.” - -I see I was a impressin’ Tirzah Ann the way I wanted to—and it made me -feel so neat, that I went to allegorin, as I make a practice of doin’ -real often, when I get eloquent; sunthin’ in the Bunyan style, only not -so long. It is a dretful impressive way of talkin’. - -[Illustration: LEFT BEHIND.] - -Says I, “S’posen a man was a racin’ to catch a boat, that was liable to -start off without him. How he would swing his arms and canter, and how -the sweat would pour offen his eyebrows, so dretful afraid he wouldn’t -get there in time to embark. But after he had catched it, and sot down -as easy as could be, sailin’ along comfortable and happy towards the -place he wants to go to; how simple it would be in him, if he should -keep up his performances. Do you s’pose he is any more indifferent about -the journey he has undertook because he haint a swingin’ his arms, and -canterin’? No! the time for that was when he was a catchin’ the boat, -’fraid he shouldn’t git it in time. That was the time for racin’, that -was the time for lookin’ wild, that was the time for sweat. And when he -had catched it that was the time for quiet and happiness. - -“When Whitfield Minkley was a tryin’ to git you, anxious, ’fraid he -shouldn’t, jealous of Shakespeare Bobbet, and etcetery,—that was the -time for exertion, that was the time for strange talk, spoony, wild, -spiritual runnin’ and swingin’ of the arms, sentimental canterin’ and -sweat. Now he has got you, he is jest as comfortable and happy as the -man on the boat, and what under the sun is the use of his swingin’ his -arms and hollerin’. - -“There you two are, in your boat a sailin’ down the river of life, and -don’t you go to upsetin’ it and your happiness, by insistin’ on makin’ -him go through with all the performances he did when he was a tryin’ to -catch you. It is unreasonable.” - -I never see any one’s mean change much more in same length of time than -Tirzah Ann’s mean did, while I was a allegorin’. Her face seemed to look -a number of inches shorter than it did when I begun. - -Pretty soon Whitfield come, and he and Tirzah Ann stayed and eat supper, -and we should have got along first rate, only there was a nutcake—a long -slim one with two legs—that put the Widder in mind of Doodle; it -happened to be put on her plate, and she cried one hour and a half by -the clock. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - - P. A. AND P. I. - - -Last Tuesday, Thomas J. took Maggy Snow over to Tirzah Ann’s a visitin’, -and they stayed to the Debatin’ school; and it was that evenin’ that -Josiah and me first talked it over about goin’ to the Sentinal. - -Thomas J. and Maggy haint married yet; when they will be I don’t exactly -know, but before long I think. Josiah can’t bear the thought of havin’ -Thomas J. goin’ away from home, and Squire Snow wants to keep Maggy jest -as long as he can. He has been awful sot, the old Squire has, on havin’ -’em live there right in the family after they was married. But Thomas J. -is as determined as a rock in one thing, that when he and Maggy are -married they are goin’ to keep house by themselves. And I don’t blame -him a mite. The Squire’s folks are well off and have got everything nice -and convenient, hot and cold water comes right up into the chambers, and -other things for their comfort. But his sister Sophronia Snow, lives -with ’em; has got to have a home there always accordin’ to old Mr. -Snow’ses will. And I’ve heerd, and haint a doubt of it in my own mind, -that she is a meddlesome critter, and grows worse as she grows older. -You know time affects different natures different, etcetery, and to -wit:—it will make wine softer, and sweeter, and mellower, and make -vinegar sour, and sharper than a serpent’s tooth, if serpents have got -teeth, which I never believed for a minute. - -I don’t blame Thomas J. a mite for not wantin’ to settle down and live -with ’em, neither do I blame ’em for not wantin’ to come and live with -us, though it would be dretful agreeable to me and Josiah. Thomas J. -talks about goin’ west to live, when he gets married, and if he does it -will be a awful blow to me, but still I want him to do what is best for -him, and I tell Josiah that we all ort to use reason if we have got any -to use. Let the young birds build a nest for themselves, even if the old -birds are lonesome. Says I to Josiah: - -“We left two old birds lonesome Josiah Allen, when we built our own nest -and feathered it out on the inside to our own comfort and likin’, with -the pure white feathers of love and content;” (I meant by the two old -birds father Smith and mother Allen, though they don’t look a mite like -birds either of ’em.) “and them feathers we feathered it out with, are -warm and soft now as anything.” - -“Well,” says Josiah, “we didn’t go west.” - -[Illustration: TESTING A MAN’S TEMPER.] - -That thought seems to plague him the most of anything, and it does me -too, I don’t deny. - -But Thomas J. is in the right on’t about wantin’ to set out in married -life without any outside weights and incumbrances. The first years in -married life is a precarious time, make the best of it. A dretful -curious, strange, precarious time; and if ever a woman wants a free room -for meditation and prayer, it is then; and likewise the same with the -man. There never was two persons so near alike, but what they was -different, and had their different ways and eccentricities; and folks -don’t realize the difference in their dispositions so much, I can tell -you, when they live from a half to three quarters of a mile apart, as -they do when they cook over the same stove, and sleep under the same -comforter. A woman may think she knows a man jest as well as if she had -been through his head with a lantern a number of times; but let her come -to live with him from day to day, and from week to week—in sunshine and -in storm; when dinner is ready at noon, and when it is late; when his -boot-jack is on the nail, and when it gets lost; when stove pipes are -up, and when they are bein’ put up; and in all other trials and reverses -of life. I tell you she will come acrost little impatient obstinate -streaks in him she never laid eyes on before, little selfish, -overbearin’ streaks. And the same with her. He may have been firm as a -rock in the belief he was marryin’ an angel, but the very first time he -brings unexpected company home to dinner on washin’ day, he’ll find he -haint. They may be awful good-principled well-meanin’ folks -nevertheless, but there are rocks they have got to sail round, and they -want strength, and they want patience, and they want elbo’ room. It is a -precarious time for both on ’em, and they don’t want no third person -round be she male or female, sacred or profane, to intermeddle or -molest. Let ’em fight their own warfare, enjoy their own blessings, -build up their own homes in the fear of God, sacred to their own souls -alone, and to Him. - -They don’t want any little hasty word they may say to each other, -commented on and repeated five minutes after, when it is all made up and -forgiven. They don’t want anybody to run and complain to, in the little -storms of temper that sometimes darken the honeymoon. Good land! if they -are let alone the little clouds will disperse of themselves. And there -is another moon, what you may call the harvest moon of married life, -that rises to light true married lovers on their pilgrimage. It may not -be so brilliant and dazzlin’ as the honeymoon, but its light is stiddy, -and calm, and mellow as anything, and it shines all the way down to the -dark valley, and throws its pure light clear acrost it to the other -side. Thomas J. and Maggy will walk in its light yet, if they are let -alone, for they love each other with a firm and cast-iron affection, -that reminds me of Josiah and me, my affection and hisen. - -So as I say I don’t blame ’em a mite for not wantin’ to live with his -folks or hern. When passion has burnt itself out, and been purified into -a calm tender affection but firm as anything can be firm, and patience -has been born of domestic tribulation; when they have built up their own -home on the foundations of mutual forbearance, and unselfishness, and -trust in each other, as they will have to build it in order to have it -stand—then in the true meanin’ of the term the two twain have become -one. The separate strands of their own individual existence will become -twisted into one firm cord, strong enough to stand any outside -pressure—Sophronia Snow, or any other strain. Then if they want to take -in a few infirm or even bedrid relations on his side or on hers, let ’em -take ’em in, it would be perfectly safe. Let ’em do as they are a mind -to, with fear and tremblin’. - -But though I tell all this to Josiah Allen a tryin’ to make him -reconciled to the idee of lettin’ Thomas J. go, though I keep a firm -demeanor on the outside of me, nobody knows the feelin’s I feel when I -think of his goin’ west to live. - -Why when Tirzah Ann was married, the day after she moved away, the -feelin’s I felt, the lonesomeness that took holt on me, wore on me so -that I had to go to bed regular, ondress, and everything. But I held -firm there in the bed, I hung on to reason, and never let on what ailed -me. And Josiah and the Widder Doodle, was skairt most to death about me, -and sweat me—give me a hemlock sweat. And though I didn’t say nothin’ -thinks’es I to myself, with the bitter feelin’s I have got inside of me, -and a hemlock sweat on the outside, I am in a pretty hot place. - -But I persume that sweat was the best thing they could have done. It -kinder opened the pours, and took my mind offen my troubles. It was so -oncommon disagreeable, and hard to bear, that I couldn’t think of -anything else while it was a goin’ on. And then it satisfied them, that -was why I let ’em go on with it; it kinder took up their minds, and kep’ -’em from talkin’ to me every minute, and mournin’ to me about Tirzah -Ann’s goin’ away. Truly, feelin’ as I felt, I could stand a hemlock -sweat better than I could that. - -But as I said more formally, I held firm there in the bed. Though my -body was wet with sweat, my mind was dry and firm, and my principles -cool and hefty. I knew it was the way of nater, what I ort to have -expected, and what was perfectly right. I couldn’t expect to keep the -childern with me always, it was unreasonable. And though it would seem -as lonesome and roomy as if one side of the house was gone, I must stand -it the best I could. Now when a bird lets her young ones fly away from -the old nest, I dare persume to say, lots of memories almost haunt that -old bird’s heart, of sweet May mornin’s, and the little ones chirpin’ in -the nest, and her mate a workin’ for ’em, and a singin’ to ’em close by. -I dare say she thought it all over, that old bird did, how the sweet May -mornin’ with its bloom and gay brightness, she couldn’t never see again, -and the little soft, dependent, lovin’ things couldn’t never come back -to her heart again, to be loved and to be worked for, and she, paid for -that work every minute by watchin’ their growin’ strength and beauty. -But she held firm—and when the time came for ’em to fly, she let ’em -fly. No matter what she felt, upheld by duty and principle she pushed -’em out of the nest herself. She held firm, and so Samantha Allen is -determined to, she whose maiden name was Smith. - -If Thomas J. and Maggy could feel contented to settle down in Jonesville -after they was married, the cup of my happiness would be full and -runnin’ over, and so would Josiah’s cup; for we could see him every day, -or three times a day if we wanted to. But they have got a good Doctor -there now—Thomas J. has studied for a Doctor; goin’ to get his -sheep-skin in July. Though I have said and I say still, that I never -heerd of such a present to give the last day of school as a sheep-skin. -And it looks to me as if his teachers was dretful hard up for presents, -to have to fall back on a sheep-skin. I told Thomas J. that when a -scholar had studied day and night as he had for three years and over, it -seemed as if (if they was goin’ in to sheep presents at all,) they ort -to give him as much as a live sheep, instead of killin’ it and eatin’ -the mutton themselves, and givin’ him the hide; howsumever, it haint -none of my business, and if he is satisfied I ort to be. Old Dr. Bombus -speaks dretful well of him, says he is jest as good a Doctor to-day as -he is; but folks have got kinder attached to the old Doctor, he havin’ -helped their friends into life and out of it, for years, they naturally -take to him, and there don’t seem to be much of any chance for a young -Doctor, I think; and I know that Thomas J. and Maggy had ruther stay in -Jonesville if it wasn’t for that he and Maggy settle down by themselves -there—than to go west. But if he makes up his mind to go, I am -determined to put my shoulder blades to the wheel, keep my mind stiddy -and stabled, so’s to do justice to my own principles, and be a comfort -to my Josiah. - -As I said, Thomas J. took Maggy over to Tirzah Ann’s in the mornin’ a -calculatin’ to stay to the Debatin’ school, and I told Josiah we’d have -an early supper, and go in good season. We had stewed oysters, and warm -biscuit and canned peaches, a first rate supper, and Josiah said it was. -And it went off dretful agreeable all but one thing; the Widder Doodle -shed tears when Josiah passed the oysters to her, she said them oysters -put her in mind so of Doodle. - -But she wiped up in a minute or two, and enjoyed her supper first rate. -She didn’t want to go out in the cold she said, and she offered to wash -up the dishes—there wasn’t but a handful of ’em and so I let her. The -dish-pan put her in mind of Doodle again, and we left her a cryin; it -was time to go and we started off. - -Josiah went to the Post-office, and I had a little tradin’ to do to the -stores and the groceries. But Jonesville was all up in end, as you may -say, and every place where I went to I could see that every man was rent -with excitement to his very foundations. - -A grocer man where we did our tradin’ had been burgled the night before. -A poor man, a chair bottomer by trade, had stole a codfish weighin’ two -pounds and a half, and a dozen of onions. He had tried to git work and -couldn’t git a thing to do, so he was obleiged to follow his trade in a -different way from what he wanted to follow it; and the consequence was, -his family was perishin’ for food. And his wife havin’ the consumption -thought she could eat a little codfish and onions if she had ’em. So, as -he couldn’t get trusted for 22 cents he lay to and stole ’em. And -Jonesville rose to a man in anger and wrath, I never see so big a -excitement there, and Josiah said he never seen a excitement there or -any where else, any where near the size of this. More’n a dozen told us -the story before we had been in the grocery twenty minutes, for they was -rampant to tell it. - -They said: they got on the track of the codfish and onions early in the -mornin’, tracked ’em to the haunt of the robber (he lived in a shanty on -the age of the village) and tore the booty he had obtained by lawless -rapine from his grasp. The grocer man that was rapined got back the -biggest part of the codfish skin, and three of the onions. Though they -said the robber’s pardner in iniquity tried to conceal her guilty -treasure beneath the straw bolster, for she was sick abed, and didn’t -know when she should ever get anything to eat again. - -They said they demolished the straw bolster right there on the spot, in -their righteous anger and as an example to the woman of the mighty power -and justice of the law, and dragged the man off to jail of course. But -they wasn’t satisfied with that, they wanted to make an example of him. -The man he rapined came out boldly and said he ort to be masicreed right -there in the streets. Says he, “What is the nation comin’ to, if thieves -and robbers haint made public patterns and examplers of?” - -An old man in a blue soldier overcoat who was tryin’ to get trusted for -some plug tobacco said to the grocer man: “He ort to be guletined.” - -But the grocer didn’t know what that meant; he thought the old man was -kinder praisin’ him up, so he acted mad and wouldn’t trust him. But the -one that seemed to talk the biggest about it was P. Cypher Bumpus. Bein’ -a lawyer by trade, he has got well acquainted with some uncommon big -words, and he naturally loves to let folks see on what familiar terms he -is with ’em. - -[Illustration: THE THIEF AT HOME.] - -He uses ’em like a master workman. He didn’t gesture a mite; they say he -wont on common occasions. I’d give a cent though if he had been willin’ -to, for I s’pose it is a sight worth goin’ miles to see. But he used -words more’n three inches long, and I don’t know but some would have -come nigh onto four inches in length, a goin’ on about this rapine. - -“Yes,” says Cornelius Cork takin’ aim at us with his forefinger as if we -was rabbits eatin’ his early cabbages. “Stealin’ is sunthin’ that -Jonesville and the nation cannot and _will_ not, put up with. And such -villains and robbers will find out that we wont; _fur frummit_.” - -“He ort to be gulentined,” says the old man again. “Ort to have his head -chopped right off with an axe.” - -They all looked favorably at the old man now, and the grocer man trusted -him right on the spot for a plug of tobacco. - -Josiah come in jest then with the _World_ in his hand, and he turned to -Cornelius Cork, and says he: - -“I see by the _World_ to-day, there has been another case of public -stealin’; another hundred and fifty thousand stole from us out of the -public treasury.” - -“Yes,” said Cornelius Cork in a mild gentle tone: “A little case of -fraud, that is all.” - -“Merely a deficit in accounts,” says the grocer man who was rapined, in -a ’poligy tone. - -“Only a triflin’ defalcation from the revenue,” says the old man, bitin’ -off another chew of his tobacco with a serene countenance. - -“Nothin’ to speak of,” says P. Cypher Bumpus. “Nothin’ worth mentionin’, -a triflin’ abstraction, a diminution, a withdrawal of funds, a -emblezzlement.” - -Oh, what feelin’s I felt to hear ’em go on; but I didn’t say a word to -’em, I don’t believe in a woman bein’ bold and forred in her demeanor. -But to see every one on ’em givin’ that stealin’ a bigger and a bigger -name, swellin’ and puffin’ it out from fraud clear up to embezzlement, -and no knowin’ where they would stop, if somebody didn’t interfere. I -declare for’t, it give me such feelin’s that I spoke right out to -Josiah, and my tones sounded low and awful, for I heerd ’em unbeknown to -me. - -Says I, “Josiah Allen, what feelin’s it makes me feel to see folks -strain so, and hang back from eatin’ a gnat, and then swaller a elephant -and a rinosterrous and a drumedary.” Says I, “When a poor man in the -case of sickness steals a onion and a codfish, he is called a thief and -a robber; he is drummed out of camp, sent to jail, knocked down by -public opinion, and kicked after he is down by the same, till he is -completely mortified, and shame and disgrace bow his forward down into -the dust. But let a rich man steal all he can lay his hands to, and they -think it is sunthin’ pretty in him, so pretty that they make a new name -for it, and he wears that name like a feather in his cap. If he breaks -down a purpose to cheat his creditors, they call it ‘compromisin’ -‘repudiation,’ both of these name stand up like beautiful feathers over -his forward, and he looks grand and feels so. If he lays to and steals -right out openly hundreds of thousands of dollars they have lots of -curious and handsome names to ornament him with, all the way from -defalcator and deficitor up to embezzler. Why, if some politician should -steal the hull United States treasury, they would have to make a new set -of names to trim him off with, there wouldn’t be none in the dictionary -half big and noble enough.” - -I follered my pardner almost mekanically out of the store. What they -said to my back after I left, I know not. But we must all expect to be -backbited some, else why do we have backs. - -In about seven minutes time we was seated in front of the Jonesville -Creation Searchers, a listenin’ to a epicac poem from Shakespeare -Bobbet—or that is how Josiah understood it; I myself thought they called -it a epock poem; but Josiah said when we was a talkin’ it over a goin’ -home, that he would bet the colt it was a epicac. - -Says he, “You know epicac means sunthin’ kinder weakenin’, and -sickenin’, and that is why such poems as hisen are called epicacs.” - -“Well,” says I, “seein’ we haint either of us certain, we wont lay out -too much breath arguin’ about it. But this I know, that the poetry was -as long and dreary as the desert of Sarah, and as dry as Sarah ever was -in her dryest times.” - -It happened dretful kinder curious, but the question up that night -before the Creation Searchers was about Kleptomania—another big name for -stealin’ that I never heerd before—and they proved it out so beautiful, -how Kleptomania worked in the system, and how anybody couldn’t help -stealin’ who had the distemper. - -After they settled this to their own satisfaction, and the enlightenment -of the world, the President got up and in a awful thrillin’ and -impressive manner,—and usein his gesture as handy as I ever see a -gesture used—went on and talked in a foamin’ manner about the Sentinal -that was goin’ to be at Filadelfy village to celebrate old Epluribus’es -birthday; and he went on for probable half an hour about its uncommon -and amazin’ bigness, and he said when all the rest of the celebrated men -of America and the world was to be there, it didn’t look well for them -to hang back, and shirk out of goin’, and he motioned that the Creation -Searchin’ Society should send a body there, to encourage the Sentinal, -and collect information as a body, and he went on to say that if they -concluded to send a body there, they would proceed to vote on who should -be the body, and how many it should be. - -Solomon Cypher got up and said the name told on the face of it: -Sent-ten-al. He said the doin’s was named with the view that there would -be ten sent there from the Jonesville Creation Searchin’ Society. - -The minute he sot down, Simon Slimpsey got up lookin’ as if he would -sink right down through the floor into the suller. I’d seen that Betsey, -his wife had been a hunchin’ and pokin’ him, tryin’ to make him git up, -and whisperin’ to him in a loud angry whisper. And says he in a heart -broken tone: “If it will add any to the gloom and melancholy”—here -Betsey give such a jerk at his coat skirts that he crumpled right down -for a minute, and his tone was skairt as he went on—“and highlarity of -Filadelfy to have a poem sent by Betsey, I can carry it, I s’pose.” And -he sunk down a murmurin’: “I may live through it, and I may not.” And he -almost buried his face in his right hand, and I think shed tears. It -come hard on Simon. - -But Solomon Cypher’s face looked dark and severe, and he rose up and -smote himself powerful and frequent as he said: - -“For the time bein’ I represent the body. And speakin’ in the name of -the body which I now am, I say, that we, the body cannot, and _will_ not -be trammeled and bound down by either poetry, or bed-quilts.” (Two -wimmen jest in front of him was a whisperin’ loud; rampant to send a -blazin’ star and a sunflower.) “The body has got a great reputation to -keep up, the eye or eyes of the different globes assembled there will be -on it, watchin’ the demeanor of the body and copyin’ after it. A great -reputation is to be kep’ up.” - -Here he made a low bow and set down. And Shakespeare Bobbet, Secretary -of the Creation Searchers, got up, and said as it was doubtless the aim -of all present to make as great a stir as possible in the literary and -scientific world, and as they were all a workin’ for that end, and as -there was now nine shillings and six pence in the treasury, he proposed -those moneys should be expended in purchasing spectacles for the body to -wear on the body. - -The Editor of the Auger jumped up and seconded the motion, sayin’ he -hadn’t a doubt about its increasin’ its reputation for deep and -scientific wisdom. And he thought large round eyes would be best adapted -to givin’ the body a wise look, and that heavy brass bows would help to -give weight to its opinions. - -They all agreed on this and the motion was carried in triumphant. Then -one feller who had been round to literary conventions a good deal and -had got high notions in his head, proposed that the body should let -their hair grow long in their necks; he said it would be a great help to -’em. But as the President, and Solomon Cypher and the most of the head -ones was as bald as a bald eagle—hadn’t hardly a mite of hair to their -heads—the motion was laid down under the table; and they began to vote -on who was to be sent. They voted in Cornelius Cork, and Solomon Cypher, -and the Editor of the Auger, and Shakespeare Bobbet and several others, -and everything seemed peaceful and happy—Solomon Cypher countin’ ’em -serenely out of his hat—when all of a sudden without no warnin’ he -jumped up, and brandished a vote in his hand, and yelled out in a voice -a good deal like thunder: - -“Who! where is the villain who has dared to demean this society and put -it to shame by votin’ for a woman? Where is the wretch and the -demeaner?” - -And he looked as black and wrathful as an iron musket, and he struck -himself in the breast powerful blows, and with every smite he would call -out for “that villain and demeaner.” It was a fearful time; but right -when the excitement was rainin’ most fearfully, I felt a motion by the -side of me, and my companion got up and stood on his feet and says in -pretty firm tones, though some sheepish: - -“I did, and there’s where I stand now; I vote for Samantha.” - -And then he sot down again. Oh! the fearful excitement and confusion -that rained down again. The President got up and tried to speak, the -Editor of the Auger talked wildly, Shakespeare Bobbet talked to himself -incoherently, but Solomon Cypher’s voice drownded ’em all out, as he -kep’ a smitin’ his breast and a hollerin’ that he wasn’t goin’ to be -infringed upon, or come in contract with by no woman! No female woman -needn’t think she was the equal of man; and I should go as a woman or -stay to home. - -I was so almost wore out by their talk that I spoke right out, and says -I, “Good land! how did you _s’pose_ I was a goin’?” - -The President then said that he meant, if I went I musn’t look upon -things with the eye of a “Creation Searcher” and a man, (here he pinted -his forefinger right up in the air and waved it round in a real free and -soarin’ way,) but look at things with the eye of a Private Investigator -and a woman; (here he pinted his finger firm and stiddy right down into -the wood-box, and a pan of ashes,) it was impressive, very. Then he went -on to ask me, if I was willin’ to go as a woman, and with what eyes I -was willin’ to look at things. - -I kep’ on a knittin’ with considerable calm, and assured ’em with quite -a lot of dignity, that bein’ a woman, I should most probable go as one, -and not bein’ blind, I should look at things with my own eyes. - -“But will you promise to look upon things in a private way, not as a man -and a ‘Creation Searcher?’ Will you go as Josiah Allen’s wife, P. I., -which means Private Investigator?” - -I declare, their talk was enough to wear out a snipe; and as I sot there -hearin’ ’em go on, big, lofty idees and hefty aspirations began to -tackle me. Truly the fires of persecutions are always fruitful of great -idees; and while the storms of opposition, and Cornelius Cork and -Solomon Cypher and etcetery was a ravin’ round me, I see a mission a -loomin’ up in front of me, like a war-horse a waitin’ for me to mount -and ride off to victory promiscous. And I spoke out in a noble tone, and -says I: “No! I will not go as a P. I., I will go as a P. A.;” and I -continued in still firmer axents, “I am not one of the whifflin’ ones of -earth, my mind is firm and stabled, and my principles are high and -foundered on a rock; if I go at all I shall go as Josiah Allen’s wife, -P. A., which means Promiscous Advisor, in the cause of Right.” But -Josiah whispered to me, and says he: “Let ’em put on the P. I., -Samantha; it has a sort of a good sound; go as a P. A. and a P. I.” - -And finally, after givin’ it a half a moment’s thought, and meditatin’ -it wasn’t nothin’ ag’inst my principles, and would please my companion, -I consented to go as Josiah Allen’s wife, P. A. and P. I., which bein’ -translated from the original means, Promiscous Advisor, and Private -Investigator. And bein’ dretfully worked up by more than a dozen -different emotions, and almost by the side of myself with principles and -everything—without mistrustin’ what I was a doin’—I riz right up and -stood on my feet, and spoke right out about my mission; wavin’ my -knittin’ work almost eloquently. Says I: - -“When childern was a bein’ brung up, and mortgages was abroad, my place -was to home, and to home I stayed. But when liberated from these -cumberin’ cares, and mortgages was flown and childern growed up; my mind -was a mind that couldn’t be curbed in, when great questions was before -the world: deep conundrums that has puzzled the ages waitin’ for an -answer, and them answers to be worked out by individual men and wimmen, -by the sweat of their brows and the might of their shoulder-blades, says -I. My mind was one that worked nobly for the good of the human race, and -women; and on that great and lofty mission it took a tower. And now it -is a mind that can’t be held in and hitched to the fence that cowards -set acrost, while the conflict is a ragin’ on every side of ’em. The -battle-field where Right opposes Wrong is a broad one, as broad as the -hull world, and in every great warfare of principle there has been -martyrs, from St. Stephen—whose body was stunned to death while heaven’s -glory was a shinin’ out of his soul—to old John Brown who died faithful -to that eternal spirit of justice, that old Error never could stand.” - -Says I,—“Old Mr. Brown was none the less a martyr because he fell in our -day, and has not been cannonized by the hand of old Time;” says I, “that -same old warfare of Justice with Injustice, Freedom with Oppression, and -True Religion with Bigotry, is a goin’ on now, and the spirit of -Martyrdom is strong in me. Gladly would I lead on the hull army of the -Right triumphant into victory, even if I fell in the conflict, and was -drownded in my own goar. But such a crown of honor is reserved for a -nobler and mebby a higher forward, but not a more well-wisher to the -cause. And if I can’t head a army, and lead the vanguard on to glory and -to victory, I can tussle with the little guerillas of wrong, that are -let loose in society; I can grapple with the solitary pickets that Error -sends out ahead of his army to see how the land lays, and if the enemy -is asleep on a post. I can lay holt of his spies that are hid under the -ambush of fashion and custom.” - -“Any Advisor is a martyr more or less, for when was advice not scorned -and rejected of men and wimmen? In my mission of Promiscous Advisor, I -shall go forth, expectin’ to tread on the hot coals of public opinion; -be briled on the gridiron old bigotry keeps to brile her enemies on; be -scalded by the melted lead of old custom; and be burnt up on the stake -of opposition.” Says I—wipin’ my heated forward—“I am happy in the -thought. - -“And I am ready to set forth to-night, or to-morrow, or next summer, not -harnessed up in the splendid trappin’s of a Major-General, but in the -modest mean of a humble militia officer, earnest and sincere, and -therefore feelin’ as much self-respect, as if I was Commander-in-Chief -over the hull caboodle. I can go,” says I—wavin’ my knittin’-work -outward with as noble a wave as I ever see waved—“I can go forth with -Josiah by my side a conqueror and to conquer.” - -And then I sot down, for principle had tuckered me almost completely -out; and while they was a votin’ on who else was to be the body, Josiah -and I started for home. There was a contented look to his face, as he -started off; finally he spoke out in gentle axents: - -“I am glad we are goin’ to git home in such good season, Samantha. I -guess we will hang over the kettle, and have a little bite of sunthin’ -to eat; I didn’t eat much supper.” - -[Illustration] - - - - - HOW I WENT TO ’LECTION. - - -I was a makin’ Josiah some cotton flannel shirts, and I lacked enough -for the gussets and one shoulder band. I had also run out of shirt -buttons; and I was a tellin’ the Widder Doodle in the forenoon, that I -couldn’t work another stitch on ’em till I had been to Jonesville. And -she said, speakin’ of cotton flannel, made her think of Doodle. She took -in work—hetchelled tow for a woman—and bought some cotton flannel to -make him some shirts; and when she got ’em all done, they didn’t set -exactly right somehow, kinder wrinkled in the back a little, and she had -to take ’em all to pieces and make ’em over; and Mr. Doodle would set -and read the Evenin’ Grippher to her, and smile at her so sweet when she -was a rippin’ of ’em up. She said, nobody knew but jest her, how much -that man worshipped her. Says she, “I can’t never forget his linement, -and I can’t never marry again and there needn’t nobody ask me to, for no -linement can ever look to me like Mr. Doodle’ses linement.” - -Says I, “Don’t take on so sister Doodle; he’s most probable in a land -where he’ll have justice done to him.” - -Josiah looked up from the _World_, and says he: - -“I am goin’ to Jonesville to ’lection bime by, Samantha; you’d better -ride down, and get the stuff for my shirts.” Says he, “The Town Hall, as -you know, is bein’ fixed, and the pole is sot up right in the store. It -will be handy, and you can go jest as well as not.” - -But I looked my companion in the face with a icy, curious mean, and says -I in low, strange tones: - -“Wouldn’t it be revoltin’ to the finer feelin’s of your sole, to see a -tender woman, your companion, a crowdin’ and elboin’ her way amongst the -rude throng of men surroundin’ the pole; to have her hear the immodest -and almost dangerous language, the oaths and swearin’; to see her a -plungin’ down in the vortex of political warfare, and the arena of -corruption?” Says I, “How is the shrinkin’ modesty and delicacy of my -sect a goin’ to stand firm a jostlin’ its way amongst the rude masses, -and you there to see it?” Says I, “Aint it a goin’ to be awful revoltin’ -to you, Josiah Allen?” - -“Oh no!” says he in calm gentle axents, “not if you was a goin’ for -shirt buttons.” - -“Oh!” says I almost wildly, “a woman can plunge up head first ag’inst -the pole, and be unharmed if she is in search of cotton flannel; she can -pursue shirt buttons into the very vortex of political life, into the -pool of corruption, and the mirey clay, and come out white as snow, and -modest as a lilly of the valley. But let her step in them very tracks, a -follerin’ liberty and freedom, and justice, and right, and truth and -temperance, and she comes out black as a coal.” And says I in a almost -rapped way, liftin’ up my eyes to the ceelin’: “Why are these things -so?” - -“Yes,” says the Widder Doodle, that is jest what Mr. Doodle used to say. -He said it would make a woman’s reputation black as a coal, would spile -her modesty entirely to go to the pole, and be too wearin’ on her. Says -he, “Dolly it would spile you, and I would rather give my best cow than -to see you spilte. Poor Mr. Doodle! there was a heavy mortgage on old -Lineback then—it was a cow I brought to him when we was married, and Mr. -Doodle was obleeged to mortgage her to git his tobacco through the -winter; it was foreclosed in the spring, and had to go, but his speakin’ -as he did, and bein’ so willin’ to give up my cow, showed jest how much -he thought of me. Oh! he almost worshipped me, Mr. Doodle did.” - -Jest at that very minute, Josiah laid down the _World_, and says he: “I -am a goin to hitch up the old mare, Samantha. I guess you had better go, -for I am a sufferin for them shirts; my old ones are a gettin’ so thin; -I am cold as a frog.” - -I braided my hair and done it up, and then I made a good cup of coffee, -and brought out a cherry pie, and some bread, and butter, and cheese, -and cold meat. We all eat a little, and then sister Doodle bein’ anxious -about the shirts, and dretful tickled about my goin’, offered to wash up -the dishes. - -Josiah said we’d got to stop to the barn for the buffalo skin; he come -out with it all rolled up in a curious way, and I see there was a -middlin’ sized bundle in it, that he slipped under the seat. He seemed -so anxious for me not to see it that I never let on that I did; but I -kep’ my eye on it. I didn’t like the looks of things; Josiah acted -strange, but he acted dretful affectionate towards me. But all the while -I was on my tower towards ’lection—and the old mare went slow, all the -time—though my face was calm, my mind was worked up and agitated and -felt strange, and I kep’ s’posen things. I said to myself, here I be -started for ’lection, my companion settin’ by my side, affection on his -face, sweetness and peace throned onto his eyebrow, and at home is a -Widder Doodle a helpin’ me off to ’lection. Everything is peace and -harmony and gay, because I am a goin’ to ’lection after buttons and -gussets for men’s shirts. And then I’d s’pose t’other way; s’posen I was -a settin’ off with my mind all boyed up with enthusiasm in the cause of -Right, a earnest tryin’ to do my full duty to God and man, pledgin’ my -life and sacred honor to help the good cause forred and put my shoulder -blades to the wheel; s’posen I was on my way to vote,—and it wouldn’t -take me half so long as it would to pick out the shirt buttons, and -things—my Josiah’s face would look black as a thunder cloud, anger and -gloom would be throned on his eyebrow, his mean would be fierce and -warlike; I should be an outcast from Isreal, and sister Doodle wouldn’t -have washed a dish. - -And so I kep’ s’posen things till we got clear to the store door and -Josiah went to help me out; and then thinkin’ what my companion had -warned me about so many times—about how dangerous and awful it was for -wimmen to go near the pole—I says to him, in middlin’ quiet tones: - -“Josiah I guess I’ll set in the buggy till you hitch the old mare, and -then you can go in with me, so’s to kinder keep between me and the -pole.” - -But he says in excited tones: - -“Oh shaw! Samantha; what fools wimmen can be, when they set out to! Who -do you s’pose is a goin’ to hurt you? Do you s’pose Elder Minkley is a -goin’ to burgle you, or old Bobbet asalt and batter you? There haint a -man there but what you have been to meetin’ with. You wasn’t afraid last -Sunday was you? Go in and get your buttons and things, so’s to be ready -by the time I am for _once_,—wimmen are always so slow.” - -I didn’t argue with him, I only said in cold tones: - -“I wanted to be on the safe side, Josiah.” - -[Illustration: JOSIAH’S SECRET.] - -But oh! how I kep’ s’posen things, as he lifted me out right in front of -the pole, and left me there alone. - -Josiah had business on his mind and it made him more worrysome; but I -didn’t know what it was till afterwards. As I was a goin’ up the store -steps I kinder looked back, and I see him take that bundle out of the -wagon in a dretful sly way, and kinder meach off with it. I didn’t like -the looks of things; he acted guilty, strange, and curious. - -As I went into the store, I see sister Minkley up to the counter by the -front winder, and I was glad to see her. The store was a big one and -quite a lot of men was goin’ up and votin’. But good land! there wasn’t -nothin’ frightful about it, I’ve seen three times as many men together, -time and again. I wasn’t skairt a mite, nor sister Minkley wasn’t -nuther. Two men was a swearin’, some, as I went in, but we heerd ’em -swear as hard again 4th of July’s and common days; but the minute they -catched sight of sister Minkley and me, they stopped off right in the -middle of a swear, and looked as mild as protracted meetin’s, and took -up some sticks and went to whittlin’ as peaceable as two sheeps. - -Sister Minkley said she shouldn’t thought she could have come out that -day, she had such a cold in her head, if her husband hadn’t urged her -so, to come on his business. His heart seemed to be so sot on Kentucky -Jane— - -“Jane who?” says I in awful axents, for I couldn’t hardly believe my -ears—my faith in that man’s morals was so high, it was like a steeple to -my soul, and always had been ever sense I had known him—and I thought to -myself if I have got to give up Elder Wesley Minkley, if his morals have -got to totterin’ and swayin’ to and fro, a tottlin’ off after Janes and -other wimmen, and if he is mean enough to send his wife off after ’em, I -declare for’t I don’t know but I shall mistrust my Josiah. I know I -looked wild and glarin’ out of my eyes, and horror was on my mean, as I -asked her again in still more stern tones: - -“Jane who?” For I was determined to get to the bottom of the affair, and -if worst come to worst, to lay it before the meetin’ house myself, and -have it stopped, and hushed up, before it got out amongst the world’s -people, to bring a shame onto the meetin’ house, and them that belonged -to it. And then as a woman that had a vow on her in the cause of Right, -I felt it my duty to look out for Jane, and if there was any hopes of -reformin’ her, to befriend her. And so I says in tones that would be -replied to: - -“Jane who?” - -“Why Kentucky Jane for overhauls, he thought my judgment on Janes was -better than hisen.” - -“Oh!” says I in dretful relieved tones, for my heart would have sung for -joy if it had understood the notes, it was that joyful, and thankful. -Says I, “They have got a piece here that wears like iron, Josiah has got -a frock offen it.” - -Well, we stood there by the counter, a feelin’ of Jane, and tryin’ the -thickness and color of it, and talkin’ together—as wimmen will—when who -should come in but the Editor of the Auger’ses wife. She is a woman that -is liked better on further acquaintance. She is thought a sight on in -Jonesville; more’n her husband is, ten times over. She’s had two pair of -twins sense she was married; I never see such a hand for twins as the -Editor is. He’s had three pair and a half sense I knew him. - -Well, as I was a sayin’, she came in, and called for some cigars. She -told us he sent her to git ’em, the two biggest twins bein’ to school, -and there bein’ nobody to come only jest him or her. She had walked -afoot, and looked tired enough to sink; they lived about a mile and a -half out of the village. - -She said the Editor could not come himself for he was writin’ a long -article on “The Imprudence, Impurity, and Impiety of Woman’s Appearance -at the Pole.” She said, he said he was goin’ to make a great effort; he -was goin’ to present the indecency and immorality of woman’s goin’ to -’lection, in such a masterly way that it would set the matter to rest -forever. It was for to-morrow’s paper, and bein’ obleeged to use up so -much brain, as he had to in the effort, he felt he must have some -cigars, and a codfish; you know fish is dretful nourishin’ to the mind, -and he is fond of it; he told her to get the biggest codfish she could -get, and bile it up. And she was goin’ to. - -I didn’t say much in reply to her, truly, as the poet says, “The least -said is the soonest mended.” I only told her in a kind of a blind way, -that if codfish was good for common sense, not to stent him on it. And -jest then the storekeeper came back from down suller with the fish. - -[Illustration: BRAIN FOOD.] - -“Good land!” says I the minute I laid eyes on it; “haint you made a -mistake?” - -“What mistake?” says he. - -Says I, “Haint it a whale?” - -“Oh no,” says he, “it is a codfish; but it is a pretty sizeable one.” - -“I should think as much,” says I. For as true as I live, when the Editor -of the Auger’ses wife laid it over her arm, it touched the floor head -and tail; and it made her fairly lean over it was so heavy. And I -thought to myself that I could have tackled the biggest political -question of the day, easier than I could tackle that whale, and carry it -a mile and a half. And so the Editor of the Auger’ses wife went home -from ’lection, luggin’ a whale, and walkin’ afoot. - -I picked out my buttons, five cents a dozen, and bought my cotton -flannel, and no Josiah. I felt worried in my mind. I thought of that -mysterious bundle, and my companion’s strange and curious looks as he -brought it out from the barn, seemin’ly unbeknown to me, and his dretful -curious actions about it as he meached out of the buggy with it. And I -felt worried, and almost by the side of myself. But I kep’ a cool -demeanor on the outside of me—it is my way in the time of trouble to be -calm, and put my best foot forred. - -Jest then a man come up to me that I never laid eyes on before. He was a -poor lookin’ shack; his eyes was white mostly, and stood out of his head -as if in search for some of the sense he never could git holt of, and -his mouth was about half open. A dretful shiftless lookin’ critter, and -ragged as a Jew—all but his coat, and I’ll be hanged if that didn’t look -worse than if his clothes was all of a piece. It was a blue broadcloth -coat, swaller tailed, and had been a dretful genteel coat in the day of -it—which I should judge was some fifty or sixty years previous to date. -It was awful long waisted, and small round, and what they call single -breasted; it turned back at the breast in a low, genteel way, over his -old ragged vest; and ragged, red woolen shirt, and pinched him in at the -bottom of his waist like a pismire, and the tails floated down behind, -so polite over his pantaloons, which was fairly rags and tatters. As I -said, I never laid eyes on him before, and still as he come up, and -stood before me, I felt a curious, and strange feelin’ go most through -me; sunthin’ in the arrer way. A curiouser more familiar-like, strange -feelin’, I never felt. But I didn’t know then what it meant, I was in -the dark. But more of this, anon, and hereafter. - -[Illustration: THE STRANGER.] - -Says the man, says he; “I beg your parding mom, for speaking to you, but -you have got such a dretful good look to your face, somehow—,” (Truly as -I have said prior, and before this, my trials with the Widder Doodle, my -martyrdom on the stake of Doodle and particulars, borne like a martyr, -have purified my mean and make me look first-rate.) Says the man, says -he: “You look so good, somehow, that I want to ask your advice.” - -Says I kindly, “I am a Promiscous Advisor by trade; advisin’ is my -mission and my theme. Ask me any advice my honest man, that you feel -called to ask, and I will proceed to preform about my mission.” - -He handed me a ticket, with a awful dirty hand, every finger nail of -which was seemin’ly in the deepest of mournin’ for the pen-knife and -nail-brushes they never had seen; and says he, “Will you tell me mom, -whether that ticket is a democrat ticket, or the t’other one?” - -I put on my specks, and says I, “It is the t’other one.” - -“Good Gracious!” says he; “Christopher Columbus! Pocahontas! Jim Crow -and Jehosiphat!” says he. But I interrupted of him coldly, and says I: - -“Stop swearin’, instantly and this minute; and if you want my advice, -proceed, and go on.” - -Says he, “There I have voted that ticket seventeen times, and I was paid -to vote the democrat.” Says he, “I am a man of my word, I am a poor man -but a honest one. And here I have,”—says he in a mournful tone—“here I -have voted the wrong ticket seventeen times.” Says he in a bitter tone, -“I had ruther have give half a cent than to had this happen.” Says he, -“I am a poor man, I haint no capital to live on, and have got to depend -on my honesty and principles for a livin’. And if this gets out, I am a -ruined man;” says he in awful bitter tones, “what would the man that -hired me say, if he should hear of it?” - -“What did he give you?” says I, and as I said this, that strange, -curious feelin’ came over me again, as strange a feelin’ as I ever felt. - -Says he, “He give me this coat.” - -Then I knew it all. Then the cast-iron entered my sole, the arrer that -had been a diggin’ into me, unbeknown to me as it was, went clear -through me, and come out on the other side, (the side furtherest from -sister Minkley.) Then I knew the meanin’ of the strange feelin’ I had -felt. It was Father Allen’s coat—one that had fell to Josiah. Then I -knew the meanin’ of my companion’s mysterious demeanor, as he bore the -bundle from the barn. His plottin’s the week before, and his drawin’s -onto my sympathy, to keep me from puttin’ it into the carpet rags, when -I was fairly sufferin for blue in the fancy stripe, and refrained from -takin’ it, because he said it would hurt his feelin’s so. Oh the fearful -agony of that half a moment. What a storm was a ragin’ on the inside of -my mind. But with a almost terrible effort, I controlled myself, and -kep’ considerable calm on the outside. Truly, everybody has their own -private collection of skeletons; but that haint no sign they should go -abroad in public a rattlin’ their bones; it don’t help the skeletons any -nor their owners, and it haint nothin’ highlarious and happyfyin’ to the -public. I hadn’t no idee of lettin’ sister Minkley into the -clothes-press where my skeletons hung, knowin’ that she probable had a -private assortment of her own skeletons, that she could look at -unbeknown to me. - -“What made you vote the wrong ticket?” Says I, “can’t you read?” - -“No,” says he, “we can’t none of us read, my father, nor my brothers; -there is nine of us in all. My father and mother was first cousins,” -says he in a confidential tone; “and the rest of my brothers don’t know -only jest enough to keep out of the fire. I am the only smart one in the -family. But,” says he, “my brothers will all do jest as father and I -tell ’em to, and they will all vote a good many times a day, every -’lection; and we are all willin’ to do the fair thing and vote for the -one that will pay us the most. But not knowin’ how to read, we git -cheated,” says he with that bitter look, “there is so much corruption in -politics now-a-days.” - -“I should think as much,” says I. And almost overcome by my emotions, I -spoke my mind out loud. - -“There couldn’t be much worse goin’s on, anyway, if wimmen voted.” - -“Wimmen vote!” says he in a awful scornful tone. “_Wimmen!_” - -“Then you don’t believe in their votin’,” says I mekanically (as it -were) for I was agitated, very. - -“No I don’t,” says he, in a bold, hauty tone. “Wimmen don’t _know_ -enough to vote.” - -I wouldn’t contend with him, and to tell the truth, though I haint -hauty, and never was called so, I was fairly ashamed to be catched -talkin’ with him, he looked so low and worthless. And I was glad enough -that that very minute brother Wesley Minkley came up a holdin’ out his -hand, and says he: - -“How do you do sister Allen, seems to me you look some cast down. How do -you feel in your mind to-day, sister Allen?” - -Bein’ very truthful, I was jest a goin’ to tell him that I felt -considerable strange. But I was glad indeed that he forgot to wait for -my answer, but went on, and says he: - -“I heard the words the poor man uttered as I drew near, and I must say -that although he had the outward appearance of bein’ a shack—an idiotic -shiftless shack, as you may say,—still he uttered my sentiments. We will -wave the subject, however, of wimmen’s incapacity to vote.” - -Elder Minkley is a perfect gentleman at heart, and he wouldn’t for -anything, tell me right out to my face that I didn’t know enough to -vote. I too am very lady-like when I set out, and I wasn’t goin’ to be -outdone by him, so I told him in a genteel tone, that I should think he -would want to wave off the subject, after perusin’ such a specimen of -male sufferage as had jest disappeared from our vision. - -[Sidenote: SENATOR VYSE AND HIS VICTIM] - -“Yes,” says Elder Minkley mildly, and in a gentlemanly way, “we will -wave it off. But Senator Vyse was a sayin’ to me jest now—he has come in -to vote, and we got to talkin’, the Senator and I did, about wimmen’s -votin’; and he is bitter ag’inst it. And I believe jest as the Senator -does, that woman’s sufferage would introduce an element into politics, -that would tottle it down from the foundation of justice and purity, on -which it now firmly rests.” - -I didn’t say a word, but oh! what a strange agitated feelin’ I felt, to -hear brother Minkley go on—for that very Senator Vyse he was a talkin’ -about, is a disgrace to Jonesville and the world. A meaner, licentiouser -man never trod shoe leather. He lives two or three miles out of -Jonesville, in a awful big, nice place; looks like a castle; he has -troops of servants, and a colored nigger to drive his horses, and is -considered a big-bug. And truly, if meanness makes a man feel big he has -reason enough to feel. I never could bear the sight on him, though he is -called handsome, and has dretful fascinatin’ ways. Bein’ so awful rich -(he owns township after township, and heaps of money) he is made as much -of as if he was made of pure gold from head to feet. But he’ll never git -me nor Josiah to make of him; Josiah’s morals are as sound as brass. - -But brother Minkley went on a talkin’, and oh! how I went on a thinkin’: -“Senator Vyse says, that the nation would be so madded to have wimmen -try to vote, that it would rise up to a man, to defend the purity of the -pole. Ah! here comes the Senator to vote; look quick, Alzina Ann! stand -up close to me, and I’ll try to introduce you.” - -Oh! how reverentially, and awe-struck everybody in the store looked at -the Senator as he came a sailin’ in, a lookin’ as big and hauty as if he -owned Jonesville and the hull world. I believe they would have strewed -palm leaves in his way, if they had any palms by ’em. He stopped a -minute to speak to brother Minkley and the Elder introduced his wife to -him, with an air as if he was a settlein’ a dowery on her, that would -make her rich for life. And sister Minkley looked on to him as -awe-stricken, and admirin’ly, as if he was a entire menagery of new and -curious animals, and she beholdin’ ’em for the first time on a free -ticket. And when he reached out his hand to shake hands with her, she -acted perfectly overcome with joy. - -Then brother Minkley introduced the Senator to me, with considerable the -mean as if he was makin’ me a present of a nice house and lot, all paid -for. But when that Senator reached out his hand to shake hands with -Josiah Allen’s wife, that woman, nerved completely up with principle, -jest looked at him with a stiddy lofty mean, and gripped holt of her -brown alpaca overskirt, and never touched his hand. I wouldn’t. It was -white and delicate, and a great seal ring set with diamonds glittered on -it, but it was stained with crimes blacker than murder, enough sight; I -had jest as lives laid holt of a pisen serpent. - -[Illustration: INTRODUCTION TO THE SENATOR.] - -I am naturally well bred, and polite in my demeanor, and the politest -way is generally the quietest way; so ruther than make a fuss, I bowed -my head a very little, mebby half or three quarters of a inch. But oh! -what a majestic look there was on my eyebrow; what a terrible rebukin’ -expression curved my nostrils; what a firmness, and a icyness there sot -throned on my upper lip. He felt it. His handsome false face turned red -as blood, as I calmly replied to brother Minkley’s last words. Says I: - -“I agree with you brother Minkley in what you said. I think it would be -a first-rate plan to keep impure people from the pole, male or female. -It would be apt to thin the voters out considerable; it would be apt to -make it considerable lonesome for the pole. But howsumever, I should -approve of it highly and so would Josiah.” - -Truly, if the coat fits anybody, let ’em put it on freely, without money -and without price. Senator Vyse felt what I said deeply, I know he did, -for I’ll be hanged if I ever see Josiah’s face look any meachener in his -meachinest times. I then coolly turned my back to ’em and looked out of -the winder; and the Senator and brother Minkley went up towards the pole -together, for the Elder seemed to think it would be a perfect treat to -see such a big man vote. And sister Minkley followed him with her eyes, -as admirin’ly as if he was a hull circus, side show and all. - -When Senator Vyse and Brother Minkley moved off toward the pole, Sister -Minkley and I was left alone. We was in a little corner by the winder, -fenced in by a high counter and still more deeply secluded by a lofty -and almost precipitous pile of rag carpetin’, that towered up on the -nigh side of us. On the off side as I said was the counter. - -My body stood there a lookin’ out of the winder, but my mind was nearly -lost in thought, a wanderin’ off into a complete wilderness of strange -and conflictin’ idees; little underbrushes of puzzlin’ contradictions, -runnin’ every which way, and hedgin’ my mind almost completely up, when -it tried to soar off free and noble; great high trees of the world’s -curious beliefs, and practices, and proceedin’s, castin’ a shadder black -as night down on the ever green mosses beneath ’em all. Sometimes my -tuckered out mind would git half a minute’s rest, reclinin’ as you may -say, on them mosses, that with tender, faithful fingers, touch with the -same repose, the ruins of castle and hovel; that are ever green in -sunshine and in shade; that quietly, silently—never hastin’, never -restin’, never tirin’—make a soft piller for all tired heads alike; the -lofty, and the lowly. Sometimes, as I say, I would rest half a moment in -the thought of that tender Mercy and Compassion. And little wild flowers -of sweet thoughts and consolations, would kinder peep up at me, and -hopes, and prophecies of truth and justice would shine out like glorious -stars; and I’d git perhaps for three quarters of a moment or so, all lit -up and a feelin’ awful well. Then my mind would soar off again, -considerable of a ways, and some of them runnin’ vines of curious idees -and customs, that was a tanglin’ up the tree tops, would trip it up, and -down it would come again—all the harder from fallin’ from such a height. -Good land! what a hard time it was a havin’. All of a sudden sister -Minkley spoke up, for she too, it seems, had been a lookin’ out of the -winder, entirely unbeknown to me. - -Says she, “I believe jest as Wesley and Senator Vyse does. Look at that -creeter across the street. What would become of the nation if such -things was permitted to vote?” - -And she pinted with her gingham umberell across the street to a girl -that was sometimes in Jonesville, and sometimes in the city. A girl, -that every time I looked at her, made my cheeks blush with shame for -her, and my eyes brim over with tears for her. I don’t believe there was -ever a dry eye in my head when I looked at that girl, because I had -heerd her story, the hull thing, from one that knew. And that was one -very great reason, why I turned my back to Senator Vyse, and wouldn’t -touch his hand; the mean, contemptible, creeter. - -[Illustration: YOUNG WOMANHOOD.] - -This very girl when she was a child, was left to his care by her dyin’ -mother and she grew up as pretty as a half blown rose bud, and jest as -innocent; an orphan, unbeknowin’ to the world, its glory, and its -wickedness. And he learnt it all to her, all its glory, and all its -wickedness; for she thought, innocent young lamb, that a new world of -light and glory had swung down from heaven a purpose for him and her, in -them days when he ransacked heaven and earth to find tender ways and -tender words enough to tell his love for her, his admiration for her -beauty, her brightness, her grace, her sweet confidin’ innocence. And so -he held her heart, her life in his hands, and she would have been -thankful to have laid them down for the handsome villain, if he had told -her to. And holdin’ her heart as he did, he broke it. Holdin’ her life -as he did, he ruined it. By every hellish art that could be called to -aid him, he deliberately committed this sin. Brought her down from -innocence and happiness, to ruin, wretchedness, disgrace, despair, -drink, the streets. And then he was unanimously chosen by a majority of -the people to make wise laws, such as legalizing sin and iniquity, and -other noble statutes, for the purifyin’ of the nation. And she,—why, as -she is too low and worthless for anything else, she is used as a capital -illustration to enforce the fact, that wimmen like her are too sinful to -vote. - -Says I speakin’ right out, loud and very eloquent: “Sister Minkley, as -sure as there is a God in heaven, such injustice will not be permitted -to go on forever.” - -I s’pose I skairt her, speakin’ out so sudden like, and she not knowin’ -what performances had been a performin’ in my mind. And she murmured -again almost mekanically: - -“It would be the awfulest thing I ever hearn on, for such creeters to -vote.” - -Says I, “That old torment can vote can’t he, the one that brought her -where she is?” - -“No doubt but what _she_ was to blame,” says sister Minkley drawin’ her -lips down in a real womanly way. - -“Who said she wasn’t!” says I in real excited axents. “But this I will -contend for, that her sin compared to his, wasn’t so much as a morphine -powder to a barrell of flour.” - -“She no need to have sunk down to where she is now,” says sister Minkley -speakin’ again, in a real prudent, womanly tone. - -[Illustration: FALLEN.] - -Says I, “Sister Minkley, when that girl found out that the man she loved -better than her own soul, that she looked up to as a God, as wimmen -will, when she found that that man had betrayed her, ruined her, do you -s’pose she had any faith left in God or man? The hull world reeled with -her, and she went down with the shock. How low she went down, you nor I -shall never know. And may the God above, who is able to keep us all from -temptation, keep your childern and mine, sister Minkley.” - -“Amen!” says sister Minkley jest as solemn as if she was to -camp-meetin’. For danger never looks so dangerous, nor ruin so ruinous, -as when a mother thinks of her own childern fallin’ onto it. - -Says I, “Sister Minkley when I think it might have been my Tirzah Ann, -what feelin’s I feel.” - -“And jest so I feel,” says she. Sister Minkley does dretful well by her -childern, thinks a sight on ’em, and the mother in her was touched. - -Says I, “Sister Minkley, that girl had a mother once. A mother’s hand to -guide her upwards—to lay on her brow when it ached. A mother’s love to -keep her from temptation. A mother’s arms to hold her from evil, from -coldness, from blame. A mother’s heart to rest on, when tired, tired out -with the world. Less try to feel for her a little as that faithful heart -would, if it wasn’t put away under the grasses.” - -Says I, almost eloquently, “It don’t look well sister Minkley for -mother’s hands that have held little trustin’ baby fingers in them, to -be pinted out in mockery, or stun bruised in stunnin’ such as she. No! -rather let them be lifted up to high heavens in prayer for ’em, or -reached in help to ’em, or wipin’ away tears of pity and sorrow for ’em. -Let mothers think for one half or even one third of a moment, what if -death had unloosed their own claspin’ lovin’ hands from the baby -fingers—tender trustin’ little fingers,—and so many different hands in -the world reached out to clasp ’em, and they so weak, so confidin’, and -so woefully ignorant what hands to lay holt of, little helpless, foolish -lambs, that love guarded, love watched in safe homes, need such wise -guidance, and prayers, and tears, and watchfulness—what would become of -them wanderin’ alone in a world full of wolves, temptation, starvation, -and more’n forty other old whelps, some of the fiercest ones so covered -up with honest lookin’ wool, that the keenest spectacles are powerless -for the time bein’ to tell ’em from sheep. Little white lambs travelin’ -alone so dangerous and black a road, how can they keep themselves white -unless God keeps ’em. We mothers ort to think _such_ thoughts sister -Minkley, and pray prayers daily, not alone for our own childern, but for -all of Gods little ones—for all of these poor wanderers; askin’ for -heavenly wisdom and strength to save them, win them back to a better -life.” - -[Illustration: THE LITTLE INNOCENT.] - -“Amen,” says sister Minkley, speakin’ up jest as prompt and serene as if -she was carryin’ on a conference meetin’. She is as well meanin’ a woman -as I ever see, and bein’ a Methodist by perswasion ‘Amens’ come jest as -natural to her as the breath she breathes. They are truly her theme; but -she means well. - -Says I goin’ on and resumin’: - -“After that girl gave her freshness and beauty to the little face that -lay for a few months on her bosom—dear to her, dearer to her in all her -shame and guilt, than her life, because she could see _his_ features in -it—then Senator Vyse grew tired of her. - -[Illustration: GRIEF AND REMORSE.] - -“And then her baby died. Perhaps God knew she was not fit to guide a -deathless life, so he took to himself the little white soul. And she -missed it. Missed the little constant hands that clung to her -trustingly—the innocent eyes that never looked at her scornfully, and -the little loving head that nestled fearlessly on her guilty breast. - -[Illustration: “TOOK TO DRINKIN’.”] - -“And then, the Senator bein’ very tired of her, and havin’ found a newer -face that he liked better, turned her out doors, and she went ravin’ -wild, they say, run off into the woods, tried to kill herself. They took -her to the hospittle, and when she got over her wildness, she would set -by the winder all day, pale as a ghost, jest for the chance of seein’ -him ridin’ by—for she couldn’t kill her love for him, that was one of -the hardest things for her; she couldn’t strangle it out no more’n she -could kneel down and pray the sun out of the sky, because she had had a -sunstroke. And what did she do to try to forget him and her agony? She -took to drinkin’, and fell lower and lower; so low, that nothin’ but -God’s mercy can ever reach down to her.” - -Says I, “Her face used to be as innocent and sweet as your baby’s face, -your little Katy; and look at it now, if you want to see what this man -has done. Look at the shame there, where there used to be fearlessness -and trust; look at the wretchedness, where there used to be happiness; -look at the vicious look, the guilty look, where there was innocence and -purity; see how she is shunned and despised by those who used to love -and respect her; consider the gulf his hands have dug, deep as eternity, -between her and the old life she weeps over but can never return to. If, -when she was sweet, and innocent, and trustin’, and fitter for heaven -than she ever will be again—when she was first left to his care—he had -killed her with his own hands, it wouldn’t have been half the crime he -has done now, for then he would only have harmed her body, not her -immortal soul. - -“And what seems to me the most pitiful thing, sister Minkley, is, he -ruined that girl through the best part of her nater—her trust, her -affection. Jest as a young deer is led to its death by an old panther -mockin’ the voice of its dam, jest so did this old human panther lead -this innocent young creeter astray by mockin’ the voice of love,—that -holiest of voices—lead her down to destruction through her tenderness, -her love for him. And now, after he has stole her happiness, her -innocence, her purity, her self-respect, and the respect of others, all -her earthly hopes of happiness and her hopes of heaven; after she has -lost _all_ for his sake; after he has committed this crime against her, -the greatest that man can commit, he crows over her and feels above her; -says, ‘_you_ can’t vote, but _I_ can; oh yes, I am all right because I -am a man.’ Good land! sister Minkley, how mad it makes me to see such -injustice and iniquity.” - -But sister Minkley’s mind had got to travelin’ again the ways of the -world, and she spoke out in a sort of a preachin’ tone—I s’pose she -kinder catched it from Brother Minkley, unbeknown to her: - -“Listen to the voice of Solomon concernin’ strange wimmen. ‘She layeth -in wait as for a prey. She increaseth the trangressions amongst men. My -son rejoice with the wife of thy youth, be thou ravished always with her -love. Beware of strange wimmen! Her feet go down to death. Her steps -take hold on hell!’” - -I was agitated and almost by the side of myself, and I spoke out quick -like, before I had time to think how it would sound. - -Says I, “That very same strange woman that Solomon was bewarin’ his son -about, was innocent once, and in the first on’t some man led her astray, -and I shouldn’t wonder a mite if it was old Solomon himself.” - -“Good gracious!” says sister Minkley, “Why’e!” - -Says I, “I mean well sister Minkley; and there can’t nobody go ahead of -me in honorin’ Solomon for what was honorable in him, and admirin’ what -was admirable in him. He bilt one of the biggest meetin’ housen’s that -ever was bilt, did lots of good, and some of his words are truly like -‘apples of gold in pitchers of silver,’ chuck full of wisdom and -goodness. But I must speak the truth if I speak at all sister Minkley, -especially where my sect is concerned. As you probable know, private -investigation into the wrongs of my sect and tryin’ to right them -wrongs, is at present my mission and my theme, (and also promiscous -advisin’.) And I must say, that I think Solomon talked to his son a -little too much about bewarin’ of strange wimmen, and exhortin’ him to -stick to the wife of his youth, when he had ten hundred wimmen by him -all the time, and then wasn’t satisfied but started off to git a couple -more—upwards of a thousand wimmen. Good gracious! sister Minkley; I -should have thought some of ’em would have looked strange to him.” - -“Why sister Allen! why’e!” - -“I mean well, sister Minkley; I mean first rate. And I’ll bet a cent if -you should speak your mind right out, you would say that you don’t -uphold Solomon in all his doin’s no more’n I do. He was altogether too -familiar with wimmen, Solomon was, to suit _me_. Marryin’ seven hundred -of ’em. Good land! And folks make a great fuss now-a-days if a man -marries two; claps him right into jail quicker’n a wink, and good enough -for him; he ort to go. One woman at a time is my theme, and that is the -theme of the new testament, and what that says is good enough for me or -anybody else; it is God’s own words to us sister Minkley.” - -I had been dretful kinder agitated in tone, I felt so deeply what I -said. But I continued on in some milder axents, but impressive as -impressive could be—for I was a talkin’ on principle, and I keep a tone -by me all the time on purpose for that, a dretful deep, lofty, eloquent -tone; and I used it now, as I went on and proceeded. - -As I said sister Minkley, I have made the subject of wimmen my theme for -quite a number of years—ever sense the black African and the mortgage on -our farm was released. I have meditated on what wimmen has done, and -what she haint done; what treatment she has received, and what she haint -received. Why sometimes, sister Minkley, when I have got onto that -theme, my mind has soared to that extent that you wouldn’t have any idee -of, if you never had seen anything done in the line of soarin’. It has -sailed back to the year one, and sailed onwards through the centuries -that lie between to that golden year we both believe in sister Minkley. -It has soared clear from the east to the west, and seen sad eyed Eastern -wimmen with veiled faces, toys, or beasts of burden, not darin’ to -uncover their faces to the free air and light of heaven, because man -willed it so. It has seen Western wimmen, long processions of savages, -the wimmen carryin’ the babies, the house, and household furniture on -their backs, while the men, unburdened and feathered out nobly, walked -in front of ’em, smoking calmly, and meditatin’ on the inferiority of -wimmen. - -I never contended that wimmen was perfect, far from it. You have heerd -me say in the past, that I thought wimmen was meaner than pusly about -some things. I say so still. My mind haint changed about wimmen, nor -about pusly. But justice is what I have been a contendin’ for; justice, -and equal rights, and a fair dividin’ of the burdens of life is my -theme; and I say they haint been used well. - -[Illustration: ABOUT A FAIR THING.] - -Now in the year one, when Adam and Eve eat that apple, jest as quick as -Adam swallowed it—probable he most choked himself with the core, he was -in such a awful hurry to get his mouth clear, so he could lay the blame -onto Eve. “The woman did tempt me, and I did eat.” - -“But thank fortin, he didn’t make out much, for Eternal Goodness, which -is God, is forever on the side of Right. And Adam and Eve—as any two ort -to be who sin together—got turned out of Eden, side by side, out of the -same gate, into the same wilderness; and the flaming sword that kept Eve -back from her old life of beauty and innocence, kept Adam back, too. -Sister Minkley, that is my theme. When two human souls turn the Eden of -their innocence into a garden of guilt, punish ’em both alike, and don’t -turn her out into the wilderness alone; don’t flash the flamin’ sword of -your righteous indignation in her eyes and not in hisen. - -“And then, there was Hagar’ses case,—when Abraham turned Hagar and his -baby out into the desert. If I had lived neighbor to ’em, at the time, I -should have give him a talkin’ to about it; I should have freed my mind, -and felt relieved so fur, anyway. I should have said to the old -gentleman, in a pleasant way, so’s not to git him mad:—‘I think a sight -of you, Abraham, in the patriarch way. You are a good man, in a great -many respects; but standin’ up for wimmen is my theme, (and also -promiscous advisin’,) and do you think you are doin’ the fair thing by -Hagar, to send her and your baby off into the desert with nothin’ but -one loaf of bread and a bottle of water between them and death?’ Says I, -‘It is your child, and if it hadn’t been for you, Hagar would probable -now be a doin’ housework round in Beersheba, a happy woman with no -incumbrances. It is your child as well as hern, and you, to say the -least of it, are as guilty as she is; and don’t you think it is a little -ungenerous and unmanly in you, to drive her off into the desert—to let -her in her weakness, take all the consequences of the sin you and she -committed, when she had paid for it already pretty well, in the line of -sufferin’?’ Says I, ‘I think a sight of you, Abraham, but in the name of -principle, I say with the poet,—that what is sass for the goose, ort to -be sass for the gander—and if she is drove off into the desert, you ort -to lock arms with her and go too.’ - -“I’ll bet a cent I could have convinced Abraham that he was doin’ a -cowardly and ungenerous act by Hagar. But then I wasn’t there; I didn’t -live neighbor to ’em. And I persume Sarah kep’ at him all the time; kep’ -a tewin’ at him about her; kep’ him awake nights a twittin’ him about -her, and askin’ him to start her off. I persume Sarah acted meaner than -pusly. - -“Human nater, and especially wimmen human nater is considerable the same -in the year 18 and 1800, and I’ll bet a cent, (or I wouldn’t be afraid -to bet a cent, if I believed in bettin’,) that if Sarah had had her way, -Hagar wouldn’t have got even that loaf of bread and bottle of water. It -says, Abraham got up early—probable before Sarah was up—and give ’em to -her, and started her off. I shouldn’t wonder a mite if Sarah twitted -Abraham about that loaf of bread every time she did a bakin’, for a -number of years after. And that bottle. I dare persume to say, if the -truth was known, that she throwed that bottle in his face more’n a -hundred times, deplorin’ it as the toughest-hided, soundest bottle in -all Beersheba. - -“But as I said, I wasn’t there, and Abraham turned her out, and Hagar -had a hard time of it out in the desert, toilin’ on alone through its -dreary wastes, hungry for bread, and hungry for love; dying from -starvation of soul and body; deceived; despised; wronged; deserted; -lonely; broken-hearted; and carrying with all the rest of her sorrow—as -mothers will—the burden of her child’s distress. Why, this woman’s -wrongs and misery opened the very gates of Heaven, and God’s own voice -comforted and consoled her; again Eternal Justice and Mercy spoke out of -Heaven for wimmen. Why is it that his childern on earth will continue to -be so deaf and dumb—deaf as a stun—for 6000 years. - -“But from that time to this, take it between the Abrahams and the Sarahs -of this world, the Hagars have fared hard, and the Abrahams have got -along first rate; the Hagars have been turned out into the desert to die -there, and the Abrahams that ruined ’em, have increased in flocks and -herds; are thought a sight of and are high in the esteem of wimmen. -Seems as though the more Hagars they fit out for the desert business, -the more feathers it is in their cap. Every Hagar they start out is a -new feather, till some get completely feathered out; then they send ’em -to Congress, and think a sight on ’em. - -“I declare for’t it is the singularest thing I ever see, or hearn tell -on, how folks that are so just in every thing else, are so blinded in -this one. And” says I almost wildly—for I grew more and more agitated -every minute, and eloquent—“the female sect are to blame for this state -of affairs;” says I, “men as a general thing, all good men, have better -idees in this matter than we do, enough sight. Wimmen are to -blame—meetin’ house wimmen and all,—you and I are to blame sister -Minkley,” says I. “As a rule the female sect wink at men’s sins, but not -a wink can you ever git out of them about our sins. Not a wink. _We_ -have got to toe the mark in morals, and we ort to make _them_ toe the -mark. And if we did, we should rise 25 cents in the estimation of every -good man, and every mean one too, for they can’t respect us now, to -toady and keep a winkin’ at ’em when they wont at us; they can’t respect -us. We ort to require as much purity and virtue in them, as they do in -us, and stop winkin’.” Says I, “Winkin’ at men’s sins is what is goin’ -to ruin us all, the hull caboodle of us; ruin men, ruin wimmen, -Jonesville, and the hull nation. Let the hull female race, fur and near, -bond and free, in Jonesville and the world, stop winkin’.” - -I don’t believe I had been any more eloquent sense war times; I used to -get awful eloquent then, talkin’ about the colored niggers. And I -declare I don’t know where, to what heights and depths my eloquence -would have flown me off to, if I hadn’t jest that minute heard a low, -lady-like snore—sister Minkley was asleep. Yes, she had forgot her -troubles; she was leanin’ up ag’inst the high pile of rag carpetin’, -that kinder fenced us in, fast asleep. But truly, she haint to blame. -She has bad spells,—a sort of weakness she can’t help. But jest at that -very minute my Josiah came up and says he: - -“Come Samantha! haint you about ready to go?” - -“Yes,” says I, for truly principle had tuckered me out. Josiah’s voice -had waked up sister Minkley, and she give a kind of a start, and says -she: - -“Amen, sister Allen! I can say amen to that with all my heart. You -talked well sister Allen, especially towards the last. You argued -powerful.” - -I wasn’t goin’ to twit her of not hearin’ a word of it. Brother Minkley -jest that minute sent in word that he was ready, and to hurry up, for -the colts wouldn’t stand. (He had hired a neighborin’ team.) And so we -two wimmen, sister Minkley and I started home from ’lection. - -I don’t know as I ever see Josiah Allen in any better spirits, than he -was, as we started off on our tower homewards. He had been to the -clothin’ store and bought him a new Sentinal neck-tie, red, white and -blue. It was too young for him by forty years, and I told him so; but he -said he liked it the minute he sot his eyes on it, it was so dressy. -That man is vain. And then ’lection bid fair to go the way he wanted it -to. He was awful animated, his face was almost wreathed in a smile, and -before the old mare had gone several rods, he begun what a neat thing it -was, and what a lucky hit for the nation, that wimmen couldn’t vote. And -he kep’ on a talkin’, that man did, as he was a carryin’ me home from -’lection, about how it would break a woman’s modesty down to go to the -pole, and how it would devour her time and so 4th, and so 4th. And I was -that tired out and fatigued a talkin’ to sister Minkley that I let him -go on for more’n a mile, and never put in my note at all. Good land! I’d -heerd it all over from him, word for word, more’n a hundred times, and -so I sot still. I s’pose he never thought how it was my lungs that ailed -me, that I had used ’em almost completely up in principle, how I was -almost entirely out of wind. And though a woman’s will may be good, and -her principles lofty, still she can’t talk without wind. For truly in -the words of a poem, I once perused: - -“What’s Paul, or Pollus, when a sinner’s dead? dead for want of breath.” - -I don’t s’pose he thought of my bein’ tuckered out, but honestly s’pose -he thought he was convincin’ of me; for his mean grew gradually sort of -overbearin’ like, and contemptible, till he got to be more big feelin’ -and hauty in his mean than I had ever known him to be, and -independenter. And he ended up as follers: - -“Now, we have purity, and honesty, and unswervin’ virtue, and -incorruptible patriotism at the pole. Now, if corruption tries to stalk, -honest, firm, lofty minded men stand ready to grip it by the throat. How -can it stalk, when it is a chokin’? Wimmen haint got the knowledge, the -deep wisdom and insight into things that we men have. They haint got the -lofty idees of national honor, and purity, that we men have. Wimmen may -mean well—” - -He was feelin’ so neat that he felt kinder clever towards the hull -world, hemale, and female. “Wimmen _may_ mean well, and for arguments -sake, we’ll say they _do_ mean well. But that haint the pint, the pint -is here—” - -And he pinted his forefinger right towards the old mare. Josiah can’t -gesture worth a cent. He wouldn’t make a oriter, if he should learn the -trade for years. But ever sense he has been to the Debatin’ school, he -has seemed to have a hankerin’ that way. “The pint is here. Not knowin’ -so much as we men know, not bein’ so firm and lofty minded as we be, if -wimmen should vote corruption would stalk; they not havin’ a firm enough -grip to choke it off. They would in the language of the ’postle be -‘blowed about by every windy doctor.’ They would be tempted by filthy -lucre to ‘sell their birth-right for a mess of pottery,’ or crockery, I -s’pose the text means. They haint got firmness; they are whifflin’, -their minds haint stabled. And if that black hour should ever come to -the nation, that wimmen should ever go to the pole—where would be the -lofty virtue, the firm high-minded honesty, the incorruptible patriotism -that now shines forth from politics? Where would be the purity of the -pole? Where? oh! where?” - -I’ll be hanged if I could stand it another minute, and my lungs havin’ -got considerable rested, I spoke up, and says I: - -“You seem to be havin’ a kind of a enquiry meetin’ in politics, Josiah -Allen, and I’ll get up in my mind, and speak in meetin’.” And then I -jest let loose that eloquent tone I keep by me expressly for the cause -of principle; I used the very loftiest and awfulest one I had by me, as -I fastened my specks immovably on hisen. “Where is that swaller tailed -coat of Father Allen’s?” - -And in slower, sterner, colder tones, I added: - -“With the brass buttons. Where is it Josiah Allen? Where? oh! where?” - -Oh! What a change came over my companion’s mean. Oh, how his feathers -drooped and draggled on the ground speakin’ in a rooster and allegory -way. Oh, what a meachin’ look covered him like a garment from head to -foot. I declare for’t if his boots didn’t look meachin’, and his hat and -his vest. I never seen a meachener lookin’ vest than hisen, as I went -on: - -“I’d talk Josiah Allen about men bein’ so pure-minded, and honest. I’d -talk about wimmens bein’ whifflin’ and their minds not stabled. I’d talk -about the purity of the pole. I’d love to see Josiah Allen’s wife buyin’ -votes; bribin’ Miss Gowdey or sister Minkley away from the paths of -honesty and virtue, with a petticoat or a bib apron. I’d love to see -George Washington offerin’ his jack knife to Patrick Henry to get him to -vote his ticket; or Benjamin Franklin, or Thomas Jefferson sellin their -votes for store clothes. I should be ashamed to go to the Sentinal -Josiah Allen, if I was in your place. I should be perfectly ashamed to -set my eyes on that little hatchet that George Washington couldn’t tell -a lie with. I should think that hatchet would cut your conscience clear -to the bone—if you have got a conscience, Josiah Allen. - -“Oh! Did I ever expect to see the companion of my youth and middle age, -betrayin’ his country’s honor; trafficin’ in bribery and sin; dickerin’ -with dishonesty; tradin’ in treason; buyin’ corruption; and payin’ for -it with a swaller tailed coat, with his old father’s blue swaller tailed -coat that his lawful pardner wanted for carpet rags. Oh, the agony of -this half an hour, Josiah Allen! Oh, the feelin’s that I feel.” - -[Illustration: JOSIAH FINDS HIS SECRET IS KNOWN.] - -But Josiah had begun to pick up his crumbs again. Truly it is hard work -to keep men down in the valley of humiliation. You can’t keep ’em worked -up and mortified for any great length of time, do the best you can. But -I continued on in almost dretful axents. - -“You ort to repent in sackcloth and ashes, Josiah Allen.” - -“We haint got no sackcloth Samantha,” says he, “and we have sold our -ashes. Probable the man wouldn’t want me to be a repentin’ in ’em. It -would be apt to leach ’em, too much lie for ’em.” - -“I’d try to turn it off into a joke, Josiah Allen, I’d laugh if I was in -your place about lyin’. Your tears ort to flow like a leach barrell. Oh -if you could realize as I do the wickedness of your act. Destroyin’ your -country’s honor. Sellin’ your father’s coat when I wanted it for carpet -rags.” Says I, “I am as good a mind as I ever was to eat, to color the -hull thing black, warp and all, makin’ a mournin’ carpet of it, to set -down and bewail my pardner’s wickedness from year to year.” - -“It would look pretty solemn Samantha.” I see the idee worried him. - -“It wouldn’t look no solemner than I feel, Josiah Allen.” - -And then I kep’ perfectly still for a number of minutes, for silence is -the solemn temple with its roof as high as the heavens, convenient for -the human soul to retire into, at any time, unbeknown to anybody; to -offer up thanksgivin’s, or repent of iniquities. And I thought my Josiah -was repentin’ of hisen. - -But truly as I said men’s consciences are like ingy rubber, dretful easy -and stretchy, and almost impossible to break like a bruised reed. For -while I was a hopin’ that my companion was a repentin’, and thought -mebby he would burst out a cryin’, overcome by a realizin’ sense of his -depravities; and I was a thinkin’ that if he did, I should take up a -corner of his bandanna handkerchief and cry on it too—that man for all -his back slidin’s is so oncommon dear to me—he spoke out in jest as -chirp a way as I ever seen him, and for all the world, jest as if he -hadn’t done nothin’: - -“I wonder if sister Doodle will have supper ready, Samantha. I meant to -have told her to fried a little o’ that beef.” - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - - HOW WE BOUGHT A SEWIN’ MACHINE AND ORGAN. - - -We done dretful well last year. The crops come in first-rate, and Josiah -had five or six heads of cattle to turn off at a big price. He felt -well, and he proposed to me that I should have a sewin’ machine. That -man,—though he don’t coo at me so frequent as he probable would if he -had more encouragement in it, is attached to me with a devotedness that -is firm and almost cast-iron, and says he, almost tenderly: “Samantha, I -will get you a sewin’ machine.” - -Says I, “Josiah, I have got a couple of sewin’ machines by me that have -run pretty well for upwards of—well it haint necessary to go into -particulars, but they have run for considerable of a spell anyway”—says -I, “I can git along without another one, though no doubt it would be -handy to have round.” - -But Josiah hung onto that machine. And then he up and said he was goin’ -to buy a organ. Thomas Jefferson wanted one too. They both seemed sot -onto that organ. Tirzah Ann took hern with her of course when she was -married, and Josiah said it seemed so awful lonesome without any Tirzah -Ann or any music, that it seemed almost as if two girls had married out -of the family instead of one. He said money couldn’t buy us another -Tirzah Ann, but it would buy us a new organ, and he was determined to -have one. He said it would be so handy for her to play on when she came -home, and for other company. And then Thomas J. can play quite well; he -can play any tune, almost, with one hand, and he sings first-rate, too. -He and Tirzah Ann used to sing together a sight; he sings bearatone, and -she sulfireno—that is what they call it. They git up so many new fangled -names now-a-days, that I think it is most a wonder that I don’t make a -slip once in a while and git things wrong. I should, if I hadn’t got a -mind like a ox for strength. - -But as I said, Josiah was fairly sot on that machine and organ, and I -thought I’d let him have his way. So it got out that we was goin’ to buy -a sewin’ machine, and a organ. Well, we made up our minds on Friday, -pretty late in the afternoon, and on Monday forenoon I was a washin’, -when I heard a knock at the front door, and I wrung my hands out of the -water and went and opened it. A slick lookin’ feller stood there, and I -invited him in and sot him a chair. - -“I hear you are talkin’ about buyin’ a musical instrument,” says he. - -“No,” says I, “we are goin’ to buy a organ.” - -“Well,” says he, “I want to advise you, not that I have any interest in -it at all, only I don’t want to see you so imposed upon. It fairly makes -me mad to see a Methodist imposed upon; I lean towards that perswasion -myself. Organs are liable to fall to pieces any minute. There haint no -dependence on ’em at all, the insides of ’em are liable to break out at -any time. If you have any regard for your own welfare and safety, you -will buy a piano. Not that I have any interest in advising you, only my -devotion to the cause of Right; pianos never wear out.” - -“Where should we git one?” says I, for I didn’t want Josiah to throw -away his property. - -“Well,” says he, “as it happens, I guess I have got one out here in the -wagon. I believe I threw one into the bottom of the wagon this mornin’, -as I was a comin’ down by here on business. I am glad now I did, for it -always makes me feel ugly to see a Methodist imposed upon.” - -Josiah came into the house in a few minutes, and I told him about it, -and says I: - -“How lucky it is Josiah, that we found out about organs before it was -too late.” - -But Josiah asked the price, and said he wasn’t goin’ to pay out no 300 -dollars, for he wasn’t able. But the man asked if we was willin’ to have -it brought into the house for a spell—we could do as we was a mind to -about buyin’ it; and of course we couldn’t refuse, so Josiah most broke -his back a liftin’ it in, and they set it up in the parlor, and after -dinner the man went away. - -Josiah bathed his back with linement, for he had strained it bad a -liftin’ that piano, and I had jest got back to my washin’ again (I had -had to put it away to git dinner) when I heerd a knockin’ again to the -front door, and I pulled down my dress sleeves and went and opened it, -and there stood a tall, slim feller; and the kitchen bein’ all cluttered -up I opened the parlor door and asked him in there, and the minute he -catched sight of that piano, he jest lifted up both hands, and says he: - -“You haint got one of them here!” - -He looked so horrified that it skairt me, and says I in almost tremblin’ -tones: - -“What is the matter with ’em?” And I added in a cheerful tone, “we haint -bought it.” - -He looked more cheerful too as I said it, and says he “You may be -thankful enough that you haint. There haint no music in ’em at all; hear -that,” says he, goin’ up and strikin’ the very top note. It did sound -flat enough. - -Says I, “There must be more music in it than that, though I haint no -judge at all.” - -“Well, hear that, then,” and he went and struck the very bottom note. -“You see just what it is, from top to bottom. But it haint its total -lack of music that makes me despise pianos so, it is because they are so -dangerous.” - -“Dangerous?” says I. - -“Yes, in thunder storms, you see;” says he, liftin’ up the cover, “here -it is all wire, enough for fifty lightnin’ rods—draw the lightnin’ right -into the room. Awful dangerous! No money would tempt me to have one in -my house with my wife and daughter. I shouldn’t sleep a wink thinkin’ I -had exposed ’em to such danger.” - -“Good land!” says I, “I never thought on it before.” - -“Well, now you _have_ thought of it, you see plainly that a organ is -jest what you need. They are full of music, safe, healthy and don’t cost -half so much.” - -Says I, “A organ was what we had sot our minds on at first.” - -“Well, I have got one out here, and I will bring it in.” - -“What is the price?” says I. - -“100 and 90 dollars,” says he. - -“There wont be no need of bringin’ it in at that price,” says I, “for I -have heerd Josiah say, that he wouldn’t give a cent over a 100 dollars.” - -“Well,” says the feller, “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. Your countenance -looks so kinder natural to me, and I like the looks of the country round -here so well, that if your mind is made up on the price you want to pay, -I wont let a trifle of 90 dollars part us. You can have it for 100.” - -“Well, the end on’t was, he brung it in and sot it up the other end of -the parlor, and drove off. And when Josiah come in from his work, and -Thomas J. come home from Jonesville, they liked it first rate.” - -But the very next day, a new agent come, and he looked awful skairt when -he catched sight of that organ, and real mad and indignant too. - -“That villain haint been a tryin’ to get one of them organs off onto -you, has he?” says he. - -“What is the trouble with ’em?” says I, in a awe-struck tone, for he -looked bad. - -“Why,” says he, “there is a heavy mortgage on every one of his organs. -If you bought one of him, and paid for it, it would be liable to be took -away from you any minute when you was right in the middle of a tune, -leavin’ you a settin’ on the stool; and you would lose every cent of -your money.” - -“Good gracious!” says I, for it skairt me to think what a narrow chance -we had run. Well, finally, he brung in one of hisen, and sot it up in -the kitchen, the parlor bein’ full on ’em. - -And the fellers kep’ a comin’ and a goin’ at all hours. For a spell, at -first, Josiah would come in and talk with ’em, but after a while he got -tired out, and when he would see one a comin’, he would start on a run -for the barn, and hide, and I would have to stand the brunt of it alone. -One feller see Josiah a runnin’ for the barn, and he follered him in, -and Josiah dove under the barn, as I found out afterwards. I happened to -see him a crawlin’ out after the feller drove off. Josiah come in a -shakin’ himself—for he was all covered with straw and feathers—and says -he: - -[Illustration: AVOIDING A NUISANCE.] - -“Samantha there has got to be a change.” - -“How is there goin’ to be a change?” says I. - -“I’ll tell you,” says he, in a whisper—for fear some on ’em was prowlin’ -round the house yet—“we will git up before light to-morrow mornin’, and -go to Jonesville and buy a organ right out.” - -I fell in with the idee, and we started for Jonesville the next mornin’. -We got there jest after the break of day, and bought it of the man to -the breakfast table. Says Josiah to me afterwards, as we was goin’ down -into the village: - -“Let’s keep dark about buyin’ one, and see how many of the creeters will -be a besettin’ on us to-day.” - -So we kep’ still, and there was half a dozen fellers follerin’ us round -all the time a most, into stores and groceries and the manty makers, and -they would stop us on the sidewalk and argue with us about their organs -and pianos. One feller, a tall slim chap, never let Josiah out of his -sight a minute; and he follered him when he went after his horse, and -walked by the side of the wagon clear down to the store where I was, a -arguin’ all the way about his piano. Josiah had bought a number of -things and left ’em to the store, and when we got there, there stood the -organ man by the side of the things, jest like a watch dog. He knew -Josiah would come and git ’em, and he could git the last word with him. - -Amongst other things, Josiah had bought a barrel of salt, and the piano -feller that had stuck to Josiah so tight that day, offered to help him -on with it. And the organ man—not goin’ to be outdone by the other—he -offered too. Josiah kinder winked to me, and then he held the old mare, -and let ’em lift. They wasn’t used to such kind of work, and it fell -back on ’em once or twice, and most squashed ’em; but they nipped to, -and lifted again, and finally got it on; but they was completely -tuckered out. - -And then Josiah got in, and thanked ’em for the liftin’; and the organ -man, a wipin’ the sweat offen his face—that had started out in his hard -labor—said he should be down to-morrow mornin’; and the piano man, a -pantin’ for breath, told Josiah not to make up his mind till _he_ came; -he should be down that night if he got rested enough. - -And then Josiah told ’em that he should be glad to see ’em down a -visitin’ any time, but he had jest bought a organ. - -I don’t know but what they would have laid holt of Josiah, if they -hadn’t been so tuckered out; but as it was, they was too beat out to -look anything but sneakin’; and so we drove off. - -The manty maker had told me that day, that there was two or three new -agents with new kinds of sewin’ machines jest come to Jonesville, and I -was tellin’ Josiah on it, when we met a middle-aged man, and he looked -at us pretty close, and finally he asked us as he passed by, if we could -tell him where Josiah Allen lived. - -Says Josiah, “I’m livin’ at present in a Democrat.” - -Says I, “In this one horse wagon, you know.” - -Says he, “You are thinkin’ of buyin’ a sewin’ machine, haint you?” - -Says Josiah, “I am a turnin’ my mind that way.” - -At that, the man turned his horse round, and follered us, and I see he -had a sewin’ machine in front of his wagon. We had the old mare and the -colt, and seein’ a strange horse come up so close behind us, the colt -started off full run towards Jonesville, and then run down a cross-road -and into a lot. - -Says the man behind us, “I am a little younger than you be, Mr. Allen; -if you will hold my horse I will go after the colt with pleasure.” - -Josiah was glad enough, and so he got into the feller’s wagon; but -before he started off, the man, says he: - -“You can look at that machine in front of you while I am gone. I tell -you frankly, that there haint another machine equal to it in America; it -requires no strength at all; infants can run it for days at a time; or -idiots; if anybody knows enough to set and whistle, they can run this -machine; and it’s especially adapted to the blind—blind people can run -it jest as well as them that can see. A blind woman last year, in one -day, made 43 dollars a makin’ leather aprons; stitched them all round -the age two rows. She made two dozen of ’em, and then she made four -dozen gauze veils the same day, without changin’ the needle. That is one -of the beauties of the machine, its goin’ from leather to lace, and back -again, without changin’ the needle. It is so tryin’ for wimmen, every -time they want to go from leather, to gauze and book muslin, to have to -change the needle; but you can see for yourself that it haint got its -equal in North America.” - -He heerd the colt whinner, and Josiah stood up in the wagon, and looked -after it. So he started off down the cross road. - -And we sot there, feelin’ considerable like a procession; Josiah holdin’ -the stranger’s horse, and I the old mare; and as we sot there, up driv -another slick lookin’ chap, and I bein’ ahead, he spoke to me, and says -he: - -“Can you direct me, mom, to Josiah Allen’s house?” - -“It is about a mile from here,” and I added in a friendly tone, “Josiah -is my husband.” - -“Is he?” says he, in a genteel tone. - -“Yes,” says I, “we have been to Jonesville, and our colt run down that -cross road, and-—” - -“I see,” says he interruptin’ of me, “I see how it is.” And then he went -on in a lower tone, “If you think of buyin’ a sewin’ machine, don’t git -one of that feller in the wagon behind you—I know him well; he is one of -the most worthless shacks in the country, as you can plainly see by the -looks of his countenance. If I ever see a face in which knave and -villain is wrote down, it is on hisen. Any one with half an eye can see -that he would cheat his grandmother out of her snuff handkerchief, if he -got a chance.” - -He talked so fast that I couldn’t git a chance to put in a word age ways -for Josiah. - -“His sewin’ machines are utterly worthless; he haint never sold one yet; -he cant. His character has got out—folks know him. There was a lady -tellin’ me the other day that her machine she bought of him, all fell to -pieces in less than twenty-four hours after she bought it; fell onto her -infant, a sweet little babe, and crippled it for life. I see your -husband is havin’ a hard time of it with that colt. I will jest hitch my -horse here to the fence, and go down and help him; I want to have a -little talk with him before he comes back here.” So he started off on -the run. - -I told Josiah what he said about him, for it madded me, but Josiah took -it cool. He seemed to love to set there and see them two men run. I -never _did_ see a colt act as that one did; they didn’t have time to -pass a word with each other, to find out their mistake, it kep’ ’em so -on a keen run. They would git it headed towards us, and then it would -kick up its heels, and run into some lot, and canter round in a circle -with its head up in the air, and then bring up short ag’inst the fence; -and then they would leap over the fence. The first one had white -pantaloons on, but he didn’t mind ’em; over he would go, right into -sikuta or elderbushes, and they would wave their hats at it, and holler, -and whistle, and bark like dogs, and the colt would whinner and start -off again right the wrong way, and them two men would go a pantin’ after -it. They had been a runnin’ nigh onto half an hour, when a good lookin’ -young feller come along, and seein’ me a settin’ still and holdin’ the -old mare, he up and says: - -“Are you in any trouble that I can assist you?” - -Says I, “We are goin’ home from Jonesville, Josiah and me, and our colt -got away and—” - -But Josiah interrupted me, and says he, “And them two fools a caperin’ -after it, are sewin’ machine agents.” - -The good lookin’ chap see all through it in a minute, and he broke out -into a laugh it would have done your soul good to hear, it was so clear -and hearty, and honest. But he didn’t say a word; he drove out to go by -us, and we see then that he had a sewin’ machine in the buggy. - -“Are you a agent?” says Josiah. - -“Yes,” says he. - -“What sort of a machine is this here?” says Josiah, liftin’ up the cloth -from the machine in front of him. - -“A pretty good one,” says the feller, lookin’ at the name on it. - -[Illustration: THE SEWIN’ MACHINE AGENTS.] - -“Is yours as good?” says Josiah. - -“I think it is better,” says he. And then he started up his horse. - -“Hello! stop!” says Josiah. - -The feller stopped. - -“Why don’t you run down other fellers’ machines, and beset us to buy -yourn?” - -“Because I don’t make a practice of stoppin’ people on the street.” - -“Do you haunt folks day and night; foller ’em up ladders, through -trap-doors, down sullers, and under barns?” - -“No,” says the young chap, “I show people how my machine works; if they -want it, I sell it; and if they don’t, I leave.” - -“How much is your machine?” says Josiah. - -“75 dollars.” - -“Can’t you,” says Josiah, “because I look so much like your old father, -or because I am a Methodist, or because my wife’s mother used to live -neighbor to your grandmother—let me have it for 25 dollars?” - -The feller got up on his wagon, and turned his machine round so we could -see it plain—it was a beauty—and says he: - -“You see this machine, sir; I think it is the best one made, although -there is no great difference between this and the one over there; but I -think what difference there is, is in this one’s favor. You can have it -for 75 dollars if you want it; if not, I will drive on.” - -“How do you like the looks on it, Samantha?” - -Says I, “It is the kind I wanted to git.” - -Josiah took out his wallet, and counted out 75 dollars, and says he: - -“Put that machine into that wagon where Samantha is.” - -The good lookin’ feller was jest liftin’ of it in, and countin’ over his -money, when the two fellers come up with the colt. It seemed that they -had had a explanation as they was comin’ back; I see they had as quick -as I catched sight on ’em, for they was a walkin’ one on one side of the -road, and the other on the other, most tight up to the fence. They was -most dead the colt had run ’em so, and it did seem as if their faces -couldn’t look no redder nor more madder than they did as we catched -sight on ’em and Josiah thanked ’em for drivin’ back the colt; but when -they see that the other feller had sold us a machine, their faces _did_ -look redder and madder. - -But I didn’t care a mite; we drove off tickled enough that we had got -through with our sufferin’s with agents. And the colt had got so beat -out a runnin’ and racin’, that he drove home first-rate, walkin’ along -by the old mare as stiddy as a deacon. - -[Illustration] - - - - - PREPARIN’ FOR OUR TOWER. - - -It was on a fair and lovely mornin’, though middlin’ cool, that I told -my Josiah that if he and I was a goin’ to see the Sentinal it was time -for us to be makin’ some preparations. Thomas J. haint a goin’ till -bime-by. He wants to go in company with Maggy Snow and her father, and I -don’t blame him a mite—I was young once myself. The Squire is laid up -now with rheumatiz, can’t step a step on his left foot. I was out on the -back stoop, a shakin’ my table cloth and Josiah was out there a grindin’ -his jack knife on the grindstun, and I says to him, again: - -“Josiah Allen it is time for us to prepare.” - -Says he, “I thought mebby you’d want to give up goin’, Samantha.” - -“_I want to give up goin’!_” says I, in a almost mekanical tone, but -very cold. - -“Yes,” says he in a sickly and almost foolish tone. “I didn’t know but -you’d want to wait till the next one; I didn’t know but you’d drather.” - -“_Drather!_” I repeated still more icily. “I would wait if I was in your -place Josiah Allen, till we are as old as the hills; if we was alive -we’d be carried there in a side show, and you know it;” and I folded up -my table cloth almost severely. - -“Well,” says he, tryin’ the age of the knife with his fingers, “I don’t -think _I_ shall go anyway.” - -[Illustration: “IT HAINT ALWAYS BEST TO TELL REASONS.”] - -Says I layin’ the table cloth over my left arm, and foldin’ my right and -left arm, tryin’ hard to keep some composed (on the outside): - -“What are your reasons, Josiah Allen?” - -“Oh,” says he in a kind of a blind way—goin’ to grindin’ again,—“I have -my reasons, but it haint always best to tell reasons to everybody.” - -And jest so he kep’ a grindin’ and a hangin’ back and a actin’. It was a -curious time, very. I a standin’ there erect and firm on the stoop, with -my table cloth on my left arm and earnestness on my eyebrow, and he half -bent, a grindin’ away on that old jack knife, with obstinacy on his -brow, a tellin’ me in a blind mysterious way that he had his reasons and -wouldn’t tell ’em. Oh! how offish and strange men will act. Truly, -truly, doth the poet observe, “that men are wild, and have their -spells.” - -There Josiah Allen had acted to the Debatin’-school all up in arms about -goin’. He knew the nation would expect me to be present. He knew well -what a gloom it would cast over the Sentinal if I wasn’t there, a -shadder that would spread (as you may say) from pole to pole. Josiah -Allen knew all about it; he knew well how I had lotted on makin’ a -martyr of myself in the cause of Right and Wimmen, and here he had to -baulk in the harness. Truly, men are as contrary creeters as the earth -affords, when they are a mind to be. Every married woman will join with -me in sayin’, that there are moments in married life, when mules seem to -be patterns of yieldin’ sweetness and obligin’ness compared with lawful -pardners. - -But here, in this tryin’ moment was where mind stepped in to the relief -of matter and Samantha. Some wimmen when they see their pardners act so -strange and curious, would have give up. Not so Samantha. Here was where -the deep and arduous study of her life-time into the heights and depths -of the manly mind soared up and triumphed. I didn’t act skairt at all by -him, neither did I show out that I was mad—though I was inwardly—to see -him act so offish and obstinate. No! I looked down on him a grindin’, -and a actin’, with a almost marble calm; and with a resolution nearly -cast-iron I concealed my opinion of him and kep’ my tongue in my head, -and with a slow, even, and almost majestic tread I turned round and went -back into the house, laid my table-cloth on the buttery shelf, and begun -my preparations to conquer and to triumph. At jest noon, I called him -into the house to as good a dinner as Jonesville ever offered to man or -beast. - -Again science, philosophy and Samantha conquered. Josiah had got through -with the turkey and vegetables of all kinds, and there was a sweet smile -on his face as I brought on the cherry puddin’, and a tender, -affectionate look to his eyes as he looked up at me when I sot the bowl -of sweet sass to eat on it in front of him. Then I knew the time had -come, the hour was ripe, and I boldly and confidently tackled him as to -what his reasons was. And without a struggle or a murmur he says in -gentle axents: - -“Samantha, my pantaloons haint suitable to wear to the Sentimental, they -are all frayed out round the bottoms, and you can see your face in the -knees, they are so shiny, they are as good as lookin’ glasses.” - -I felt dretful well to think I had come off conqueror, and awful -relieved to think my pardner’s reasons was them I could grapple with and -overthrow. I see that my mission could be preformed about, my tower gone -off on. And then my companion’s affectionate mean endeared him to me -dretfully for the time bein’, and take it altogether I felt so dretful -eloquent, I soared right up in half a minute to a height of happiness -and eloquence that I hadn’t sot on for days and days, and I broke right -out in a noble oriterin’ tone, and as affectionate as they make: - -“Josiah Allen that pure and heavenly blossom of True Love never floated -down from Eden bowers into this troublesome world, without its whiteness -makin’ the soul whiter that it lighted down on. It never warmed the -heart with a breath of the heavenly climate it was born in without -inspirin’ that heart with a desire and a inspiration to help the beloved -object.” Says I firmly, “Store clothes are not a goin’ to part my -companion and happiness;” and I added—in still more lofty tones for I -felt noble in spirit as I said it—“take the last churnin’ of butter -Josiah Allen, and go to Jonesville and git the cloth for a new pair of -pantaloons, and I will make them for you or perish on the press board.” - -“Well,” says he sweetly, as he helped himself to the sweet sass, “then -we will go to the Sentimental.” - -(I have give up tryin’ to have Josiah call it anything but Sentimental, -because I see plain after arguin’ for several weeks on it, that argument -was wasted, and breath spent in vain. He says he has spelt the word over -time and again, and studied on it a sight, and he knows it is as near -that as anything, and he _will_ call it Sentimental.) - -Well, the very day I finished his trowsers, he broached a new idee to -me. We had been a layin’ out to go on the cars, but Josiah says to me, -says he: - -“What do you say Samantha to goin’ with the old mare, and kinder -visitin’ along the road; we have got lots of relations that live all -along the way, some on my side, and some on yourn. They’ve all visited -us time and again, and we haint never been nigh ’em to visit ’em. What -do you say Samantha, to goin’ in our own conveniance.” - -“You mean conveyance,” says I firmly. - -“Well I said so didn’t I; what do you say to it, Samantha?” - -Says I, “I haint a goin’ in that old buggy of ourn.” - -Says he, “That buggy was high-toned enough for father, and for -grandfather, and it ort to be for us.” - -Says I, “It is dangerous Josiah Allen and you know it. Have you forgot,” -says I, “how sister Minkley went right down through the bottom the other -day when you was a helpin’ her in?” Says I, “It skairt you Josiah Allen, -and you know it; the minute you leggo of her, to have her go right down -through the bottom, and set down on the ex. It was enough to start -anybody.” - -“Well, what business has a woman to weigh more’n a ton? I’ve mended it.” - -Says I, “Truly in the matter of heft Josiah Allen, let everybody be -fully perswaded in their own mind. And she don’t weigh near a ton, she -don’t weigh more’n three hundred and fifty.” - -“The buggy was good enough for father and grandfather,” he kep’ a -arguin’. - -“But,” says I in reasonable axents, “them two old men never sot out on -towers of Principle. They never sot out as Promiscous Advisors in the -cause of Right; if they had, they would have wanted to feel free and -promiscous in their minds. They wouldn’t have wanted to feel liable in -the loftiest moments of their high mission, to break through and come -down acrost a ex. They would have felt that a top buggy was none too -high-toned to bear ’em onwards.” - -Says he, “It will make talk, Samantha. The neighbors will think we are -too loose-principled, and hauty.” - -Says I, “The neighbors say now we are too tight to git a new one. I had -jest as lives be called too loose, as too tight. And you know,”—says I -in reasonable tones, “you know Josiah Allen, that we have got to be -called sunthin’ by ’em, anyway. We have got money out at interest, and -we are goin’ down the hill of life, and if we can go down any easier in -a top buggy, I don’t see why we shouldn’t have it to go in.” - -So finally after considerable urgin’, I got Josiah headed towards -Jonesville after a top buggy. And I and the Widder Doodle kep’ watch to -the winder all day, expectin’ to see the new buggy a comin’ home with -Josiah; but he come back at night empty-handed but all worked up with -another new idee, and says he: - -“What do you say Samantha to buyin’ a phantom,—a pony phantom. The man -says they are easier ridin’, easier to get into, and he thought you -would like it better than a top buggy. And he said they was all the -fashion too.” - -But I answered him calmly. “Fashion, or no fashion, I shant ride no -_phantom_ Josiah Allen. I shant go to the Sentinal on my lofty mission, -a ridin’ a phantom. Though,” says I more mildly, “phantoms may be -willin’ critters to go, and easy ridin’, but I don’t seem to have no -drawin’ towards ’em. A top buggy is my theme.” - -So I held firm, and finally Josiah bought one. It was a second-handed -one, and fair lookin’, big and roomy. In shape it wasn’t the height of -fashion, bein’ kind o’ bowin’ up at the back, and sort o’ spread out -like in front; a curious shape. I never see none exactly like it, before -nor sense. They said the man that built it, made up the pattern in his -own head, and there hadn’t nobody ever follered it. He died a few weeks -after he made it; Thomas Jefferson said he guessed it killed him, the -shape was so curious that it skairt the man to death. But it wasn’t no -such thing; he had the billerous colic. - -Josiah was so perfectly delighted with it that he would go out to the -barn and look at it for hours, and I was most afraid he was settin’ his -heart too much on it; and I told Thomas Jefferson so, but he told me not -to worry; says he, “it wouldn’t be a mite wicked for father to worship -it.” - -Says I, “Thomas Jefferson do you realize what you are a talkin’ about?” -says I, “it scares me to hear you talk so wicked when I brought you up -in such a Bible way.” - -Says he, “There is where I got it, mother. I got it out of the Bible; -you know it says you shall not worship anything that is in the shape of -anything on earth, or in the heavens, or in the waters under the earth. -And that is why it would be perfectly safe for father to worship the -buggy.” - -I see through it in a minute; though I never should have thought on it -myself. What a mind that boy has got; he grows deep every day. - -Josiah said he couldn’t leave the colt to home, as the old mare would be -liable to turn right round in the road with us any time, and start back -for home; but I told him that when anybody sot off on a tower as a -martyr and a Promiscous Advisor, a few colts more or less wasn’t a goin’ -to overthrow ’em and their principles. Says I, we will hitch the colt to -the old mare, Josiah Allen, and march onwards nobly in the cause of -Right. - -But still there was a kind of a straggler of a thought hangin’ round the -age of my mind, to worry me a very little; and I says to my Josiah -dreamily: - -“I wonder if they’ll be glad to see us. Anything but bringin’ trouble -onto folks, because they are unfortunate enough to be born cousins to -you, unbeknown to them.” - -“But,” says Josiah, “we owe a visit to every one on ’em, and some on ’em -two or three.” - -And so we did. They had all of ’em visited us years ago, more or less on -’em out of every family. There was Zebulin Coffin’ses wife and four of -his boys; Philander Spicer’ses wife and Philander—they all made us long -visits; and Serepta Simmons—she that was Serepta Smith—made it her home -with mother and me for years before she was married—we helped to bring -her up on a bottle. And then there was Delila, Melankton Spicer’ses wife -had visited us with Philander’ses folks when they was first married; she -was Philander’s wife’s sister. We had promised to pay their visits back, -and laid out to, but it hadn’t seemed to come right, somehow. But now, -everything seemed to promise fair for a first-rate time for us and them. -We would be journeyin’ onwards towards the Sentinal, and the cause of -Right. Our clothes (now Josiah had got some new pantaloons and I a new -dress) would look well, and almost foamin’. We had a beautiful top -buggy, and take it altogether, it did truly seem almost as Josiah said, -that we was havin’ our good things all on earth. But anon, or a very -little after, a new question come up; what should we do with the Widder -Doodle; she didn’t want to go, and she didn’t want to stay. And so, what -should we do with her to do right? - -I am sot on doin’ by the Widder as I would wish to be done by if I -should come onto the town and have to be took in and done for; and so -day and night this deep and wearin’ thought kep’ a hauntin’ me—though I -tried to keep cool on the outside—“she don’t want to go, and she don’t -want to stay; and so what shall I do with the Widder Doodle?” - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - - THE WIDDER AND WIDOWER. - - -Solomon Cypher is a widower! Yes, he has lost his wife with the tyfus; -she was a likely woman, had a swelled neck, but that wasn’t nothin’ -ag’inst her; I never laid it up ag’inst her for a minute. I told Thomas -J. when he brought me the news, that I wished he and I was as likely a -woman as she was, and says I still more warmly, “if the hull world was -as likely a woman as she was, there wouldn’t be so much cuttin’ up, and -actin’ as there is now.” And says I, “Thomas J., it stands us in hand to -be prepared.” - -But somehow it is awful hard to git that boy to take a realizin’ sense -of things; his morals are dretful sound, but a good deal of the time he -is light and triflin’ in his demeanor and his talk; and his mind don’t -seem to be so stabled as I could wish it to be. - -Now I don’t s’pose there would anybody believe me, but the very next day -but one after Nancy Cypher’ses death, that boy begun to laugh at his -aunt Doodle about the relict. I told him I never see anything in my hull -life so wicked and awful, and I asked him where he s’posed he’d go to. - -He was fixin’ on a paper collar to the lookin’ glass, and he says in a -kind of a chirk way, and in a fine polite tone: “I s’pose I shall go to -the weddin’.” - -Good land! you might jest as well exhort the wind to stop blowin’ when -it is out on a regular spree, as to stop him when he gits to behavin’. -But I guess he got the worst of it this time, I guess his aunt Doodle -skairt him—she took on so when he sejested the idee of her marryin’ to -another man. - -She bust right out cryin’, took out her snuff handkerchief, and rubbed -her eyes with both hands, her elbo’s standin’ out most straight; she -took it awful. - -“Oh Doodle! Doodle!” says she, “what if you had lived to hear your -relict laughed at about marryin’ to another man. What agony it would -have brung to your dear linement; I can’t bear it, I can’t. Oh! when I -think how he worshipped the ground I walked on; and the neighbors said -he did; they said he thought more of the ground than he did of me: but -he didn’t, he worshipped us both. And what would his feelin’s be if he’d -lived to see his Widder laughed at about another man.” - -She sobbed like a infant babe; and I come to the buttery door with my -nutmeg grater in my hand, and winked at Thomas Jefferson two or three -times, not to say another word to hurt her feelin’s. They was real firm -and severe winks and he knew I meant ’em, and he took up one of his law -books and went to readin’, and I went back to makin’ my fruit cake and -cherry pies. But I kep’ one eye out at her, not knowin’ what trouble of -mind would lead her into; she kep’ her snuff handkerchief over her eyes -and groaned bad for nearly nine moments I should judge, and then she -spoke out from under it: - -“Do you think Solomon Cypher is good lookin’ Tommy?” - -“Oh! from fair to middlin’,” says Thomas J. - -And then she bust out again: “Oh what a linement my Doodle had on him; -how can I think of any other man. I can’t! I can’t!” And she groaned the -hardest she had yet. And I come to the buttery door again, and shook my -head and winked at Thomas Jefferson again, severer and more reprovin’ -winks than they was before, and more of ’em; and he, feelin’ sorry I -guess for what he had done, got up and said he guessed he’d go out to -the barn, and help his father. Josiah was puttin’ some new stanchils in -the stable. - -Thomas J. hadn’t much more’n got to the barn, and I had finished my -cake, and had jest got my hands into the pie crust a mixin’ it up, when -there come a knock to the door, and my hands bein’ in the dough, the -Widder stopped groanin’ for the time bein’, and opened it. It was -Solomon Cypher himself come to borry my bombazeen dress and crape veil -for some of the mourners. Bein’ engaged and busy, I thought I wouldn’t -go out till I had finished my pies; he and the Widder bein’ some -acquainted. He hadn’t sot but a few minutes when he spoke up, and says -he: - -“This is a dretful blow to me, Widder;” and he hit himself a knock in -the stomach so you could hear it all over the house—for he has got so -used to public life and its duties, that he makes gestures right along -every day, good enough for anybody, and this was; it would have knocked -anybody down that wasn’t in the practice. - -“A _hard_ blow,” says he peltin’ himself again right in his breast. - -“Yes,” says sister Doodle, puttin’ her snuff handkerchief to her eyes. -“I can feel to sympathize with you, I know what feelin’s I felt when I -lost Doodle.” - -Not a word does she say about brother Timothy, but I hold firm and so -does Josiah; we do well by the Widder. - -Says he, “I believe you never see the corpse.” - -“No,” says she, “but I have heerd her well spoke of; sister Samantha was -a sayin’ jest before you come in, that she was a likely woman.” - -“She was!” says he a smitin’ himself hard, “she was; my heart strings -was completely wrapped round that woman; not a pair of pantaloons have I -hired made sense we was both on us married to each other; nor a vest. I -tell you it is hard to give her up Widder; dretful hard; she was -healthy, savin’, equinomical, hard workin’, pious; I never realized how -much I loved that woman;” says he in a heart broken tone, “I never did -till I see I must give her up and hire a girl at 2 dollars a week; and -they waste more’n their necks are worth.” Here he stopped a minute and -sithed, and she sithed, so loud that I could hear ’em plain into the -buttery; and then he went on in still more melancholly and despairin’ -tones. - -[Illustration: “I LOVED THAT WOMAN.”] - -“I tell you I have seen trouble for the last month Widder. It’s only -four weeks ago yesterday, that I lost the best cow I had, and now my -wife is dead; I tell you it cuts me right down Widder, it makes me feel -dretful poor.” - -I could tell by his voice that he was jest ready to bust out cryin’; -Solomon takes her death hard, dretful. Here they both sithed again so -powerful that they seemed more like groans than common sithes; and then -he continued on: - -“It seems Widder as if my heart will bust,” and I could see as I went -acrost the buttery for the rollin’ pin, that he had laid his left hand -over his heart, as if he was holdin’ it inside of his vest by main -strength; “it seems as if it _must_ bust, it is so full of tender -memories for that woman. When I think how she would git up and build -fires in the winter—” - -“That is jest what I love to do,” says sister Doodle, “I always built -fires for my Doodle.” - -“Did you Widder?” says he, and his tone seemed to be some chirker than -it was. “I wish you had been acquainted with the corpse, I believe you -would have loved each other like sisters.” - -Sister Doodle took her snuff handkerchief down from her face and says -she in a more cheerful tone: - -“You must chirk up, Mr. Cypher; you must look forred to happier days.” - -“Yes,” says he, “I know there is another spear, and I try to keep it in -view, and hang my hopes upon it; a spear where hired girls are unknown, -and partin’s are no more.” - -“I can’t _bear_ hired girls,” says sister Doodle. “I wouldn’t have one -round when _I_ was a keepin’ house.” - -“Can’t you bear hired girls?” says Solomon. “You make me feel better, -Widder, than I did feel when I come in here! You chirk me up Widder! I -believe you look like the corpse; you look out of your eyes as she -looked out of hern. Oh what a woman that was; she knew her place so -well; you couldn’t have _hired_ her to vote; she said she’d drather dig -potatoes any time—she was as good as a man at that, when I’d git kinder -belated with my work; she’d dig as fast as I could any day.” - -“I _love_ to dig potatoes,” says the Widder. - -“I _do_ feel better,” says Solomon. “I know I don’t feel nigh so cast -down as I did.” - -“And no money wouldn’t hire _me_ to vote.” - -“You _do_ look like her,” says he bustin’ out in a real convinced tone, -“I _know_ you do; I can see it plainer and plainer. You make me think on -her.” - -“Well,” says she “then you must think on me all you can. Think on me -anytime it’s agreeable to you; it don’t make no difference when; any -time, day or night; don’t be delicate about it at all. I’ll be glad if I -can chirk you up that way, or any other.” - -“You have; you have chirked me up Widder; I feel better than I did when -I come in here.” - -“Well then you must come real often and be chirked up. I haint nothin’ -to do hardly, and I may jest as well be a chirkin’ you up as not, and -better.” - -“I will come,” says he. - -“Well, so do; come Sunday nights or any time when it is the handiest to -you.” - -“I will, Widder, I will;” says he. - -I can’t say but what my mind put out this deep question to myself as I -stood there a hearin’ sister Doodle go on; - -“Samantha, ort times ort is how many?” And though I answered back to -myself calmly and firmly, “ort;” still, thinks’es I to myself, she is a -clever critter, and what little sense she has got runs to goodness—and -that is more than you can say of some folks’es sense—some folks’es runs -to meanness every mite of it; I went out and got my dress and veil. I -felt sorry for Solomon, very; and as I handed ’em to him, I says, tryin’ -to comfort him: - -“She was a likely woman, and I haint a doubt but what she is better off -now.” - -But he didn’t seem to like it, though I spoke with such good motives. He -spoke up real crank: - -“I don’t know about that; I don’t know about her bein’ better off, I did -well by her.” - -I heerd my pies a sozzlin over in the oven bottom, and I hastened to -their rescue, and Solomon started off. The Widder, that clever critter, -went to the door, and as he went down the door step, I didn’t hear jest -what she said to him—bein’ a turnin’ my pies at the time—but I heerd his -answer; it was this: - -“I feel better than I did feel.” - -I thought considerable that afternoon (to myself) what clever streaks -the Widder Doodle did have in her, (considerin’ her sense) when all of a -sudden she give me another sample of it. We got to talkin’ about the -Sentinal and though my demeanor was calm, and my mean considerable cool, -the old question would come up in my mind: “What shall I do with the -Widder Doodle; what _can_ I do with a Widder that don’t want to go, and -don’t want to stay?” - -The question was a goarin’ me (inwardly) the very minute when she spoke -up, and says to me that she would stay to home and keep house for me; -she wanted to. - -But says I, “I hate to have you stay here sister Doodle; I am afraid -you’ll git lonesome; you haint seemed to think you could, and I hate to -put it on you. You know Thomas J. will be to Jonesville more’n half his -time, and our tower will be a long one.” Says I, “visitin’, as we shall -all along the way to the Sentinal, it will be the longest tower ever -gone off on by us; and I am afraid you’ll be lonesome, sister Doodle; I -am awful ’fraid you will.” Says she: - -“Sister Samantha I want to be lonesome if it is a goin’ to be any -accomodation to you; it will be a real treat to me to be lonesome. I -never seemed to feel so willin’ to be lonesome in my hull life before.” - -And as she wouldn’t take no for an answer, it was settled that she -should stay and keep house. A cleverer critter (considerin’ her sense) -never walked the earth than sister Doodle, and so I told Josiah. - -[Illustration] - - - - - HOW SEREPTA CARRIED THE MEETIN’ HOUSE. - - -Never did the year let a lovlier day slip offen his string (containin’ -jest 365) than the day my pardner and me set off on our tower. Never did -a brighter light rest upon a more peaceful realm and a serener wave, -than that mornin’ sun a shinin’ down on our door-yard, and the crystal -waters of the canal. Sweeter winds never blew out of the west, than the -fresh mornin’ breeze that sort o’ hung round our bed-room winder where -we was a fixin’, and gently waved the table-cloth, as Sister Doodle -shook it offen the back steps. And never, sense the Widder had been took -in and done for by us, had she been in such spirits. We had hired Betsey -Slimpsey _knee_ Bobbet to do all the heaviest of the work, and the -Widder seemed glad and light of heart. For though the fried ham which we -had for breakfast, and the salt-suller, and the sugar-bowl, had all put -her in mind of Doodle—and though reminessinces was brought up, and -particulars was abroad, still she didn’t weep a tear, but seemed to -think of him and life with peace and resignation. - -When I got all ready to start, I looked well, and felt well. I had -bought a bran new dress expressly for the occasion, a sort of a Quaker -brown, or lead color. It was cotton and worsted, I don’t know really -what they do call it, but it was handsome, and very nice. It cost 18 -pence per yard. It was made very fashionable; had a overskirt, and a -cape all trimmed round the edge with a narrow strip of the same cut on -the bias. Settin’ out as I did as a martyr, I sot my foot down firmly on -ruffles and puckers. But this straight and narrow strip cut crossways of -the cloth and sot on plain, suited both my eyes and my principles. It -was stitched on with my new sewin’ machine. Almira Hagidone come to the -house and made it for me—took her pay in white beans. - -The cape looked noble when it was finished, and I knew it would. I -_would_ have it cut to suit me. It didn’t look flighty and frivolous, -but it had a sort of a soarin’, deep look to it. It rounded up in the -back, and had long, noble tabs in front. Almira said tabs had gone out, -and argued warm ag’inst ’em, but I told her I seemed to have a drawin’ -towards ’em, and finally I come right out and told her firmly; says I, -“tabs I _will_ have.” So she give in and cut it tab fashion. - -I had another argument about my bunnet—I had my brown silk one done -over. I had a frame made to order, for I was determined to have a bunnet -that shaded my face some. I told the millener plainly that one of my -night-caps—cut sheep’s-head fashion—was far better to the head as a -protector, than bunnets as wore by wimmen; so I give my orders, and -stood by her till the frame was done; and it looked well. It was a -beautiful shape behind, and had a noble, roomy look to it in front. And -when I put it on, and my green veil was tied round it, and hung in long, -graceful folds down on one side of it, it suited me to a T. I trimmed -off the edges of my veil where it was frayed out, and hemmed it over, -and run in a new lutestring-ribbin string, and it looked as good as new. -Havin’ a cape like my dress, I didn’t lay out to wear anything else -round me on my tower, but I took my black silk mantilla along in case of -need. - -There was enough left of my dress to make a new sheath for my umberell, -and though some of the neighbors thought and said, (it came right -straight back to me) that it was awful extravagant in me, I launched out -and made it, and wasn’t sorry I did. I am very tasty naturally, and love -to see things correspond. I also bought me a new pair of cotton -gloves—most the color of my dress, only a little darker so’s not to show -dirt—at an outlay of 27 and a ½ cents. - -Josiah was dressed up as slick as I was, and looked more trimmed off, -and fancy, for he _would_ wear that red, white, and blue, neck-tie, -though upheld by duty, I says to him: - -“Josiah Allen; bald heads, and red and blue neck-ties don’t correspond -worth a cent; it is too dressy for you, Josiah Allen.” - -I meant well, but as it is too often the case in this world—as all true -Reformers know—my motives wasn’t took as they was meant. And he says in -a complainin’ tone: - -“You haint willin’ I should look dressy, Samantha, and you never -was—that is the dumb of it.” - -Says I firmly, “Stop swearin’ at once, and instantly, Josiah Allen.” And -then as I see he was so awful sot on it, I said no more, and we started -off in 2 excellent spirits—Josiah’s spirits and mine. - -It was one good day’s journey to Miss Elder Simmons’es, she that was -Serepta Smith, and the top buggy assisted by the old mare bore us on -nobly. The colt’s demeanor was like a horse’s for morality and sobriety, -and as the shades of night was a descendin’ down, we drew near the place -where we wanted to be. They lived about a quarter of a mile from the -village of Shackville, and as we drew near the dwellin’—a smallish kind -of a house, but comfortable lookin’—we see considerable of a procession -a settin’ towards the house. - -And says I to my companion, “I am afraid there is trouble ahead, -Josiah.” - -[Illustration: AN UNSOLVED MYSTERY.] - -He said he guessed not; he had heard there was a convention at Elder -Simmons’es church in Shackville, and he guessed these was delegates, a -goin’ to the minister’s to stay. Says he, “You know they can lodge there -without payin’ for their lodge.” - -And come to look at ’em again they was peaceable lookin’ men, and most -all of ’em had a satchel-bag in their hands. But how all of ’em was a -goin’ to stay all night in that house, was one of the mysteries to me, -unless they had poles for ’em to roost on, or hung ’em up over nails on -the wall, such a sight on ’em. - -And I spoke up to Josiah, and says I, “Our room will be better than our -company here, Josiah Allen; less go back to Shackville and stay all -night.” - -“Wall,” says he, “bime-by; we’ll go in and tell Serepta we’ve come.” - -Says I, “I guess it wont be much of a treat to her to tell her anybody -else has come, if she has got to take care of this drove of men,” says -I, “less go back to Shackville, and stay to the tarven.” - -“Wall,” says he, “bime-by; but we’ll go in and tell Serepta we’ve come.” - -I argued with him that it wouldn’t be no treat to Serepta; but -howsumever, she was awful tickled to see us—she always did think a sight -of her Aunt Samantha. I s’pose one thing was, because I helped to bring -her up on a bottle. Her father and mother both dyin’ and leavin’ her an -orphan on both sides, she was brought up by the Smith family, on a -bottle. Mother and I brought her part way up, and then other Smiths -would take her and bring her up a spell. And so we kep’ on till she was -brought up. - -We sent her off to school, and done well by her, and she lived with -mother and me two years right along jest before she was married. She was -married to our house, and was as pretty as a doll. She was a little mite -of a thing, but plump and round as a banty pullet. She had a fresh, rosy -face, and big blue eyes that had a sort of a timid scareful look to ’em. -She was a gentle babyish sort of a girl, but a master hand to do jest -what she thought was her duty; and though she knew enough, anybody could -make her think the moon was made of green sage cheese, she was that -yieldin’, and easy influenced, and innocent-hearted. I thought a sight -on her, and I said so to Elder Simmons the day they was married. He was -a good man, but dretful deep learnt, and absent-minded. He says to me, -says he: - -[Illustration: SEREPTA SMITH.] - -“She is jest as sweet as an apple blossom.” - -His eyes was sot kind o’ dreamily on the apple trees out in the orchard -which was in full blow. - -“Yes,” says I, “and jest as fraguile and tender;” says I, “the sweetest -poseys are the easiest nipped by the frost,” says I, “nothin’ looks more -pitiful than a pink posy after the frosts have got holt of it,” says I, -“keep the frosts of unkindness, and neglect, and hard usage from our -little apple blow that you have picked to-day and are a wearin’ off on -your heart, and may God bless you Brother Simmons,” says I. (He was of -the Methodist perswasion.) - -There wasn’t hardly a dry eye in my head, as I said this, nor in hisen. -I thought a sight on her, and so did he. He thought enough on her I -always said. But he was dretful absent-minded, and deep learnt. They -stopped with us a week or two after they was married, and I hadn’t laid -eyes on ’em sense, though I had heerd from ’em a number of times by -letter; and then Uncle Eliphalet Smith had visited ’em, and he said she -had to work awful hard, and the Elder was so absent-minded that it took -a sight of her time to get him headed right. He’d go down suller lots of -times, and bring up ag’inst the pork barrell, when he thought he was a -goin’ up into his study; and get on her stockin’s and things, thinkin’ -they was hisen. And then he said she had the care of the meetin’ house -on her; had to sort o’ carry the meetin’ house. Shackville bein’ a place -where they thought the minister’s wife belonged to ’em, as some other -places do think besides Shackville. Howsumever, I didn’t know any of -these things only by hearsay, until I arrove at her dwelling; then I -knew by sight, and not by ear. - -[Illustration: “NEEDS HEADIN’ OFF.”] - -As I first looked on her face, I couldn’t help thinkin’ of what I told -Elder Simmons the mornin’ he was married; for never did a apple blow -show more signs of frost and chill after an untimely storm, than did the -face of she that was Serepta Smith. Her cheeks was as white and pale as -a posy blown down on the frosty ground, and her eyes had the old timid, -scareful look, and under that, whole loads of care and anxiety, and -weariness; and over all her face was the old look I remembered so -well—only 100 times stronger—of wantin’ to do jest right, and jest what -everybody wanted her to do. - -As I said, she was awful tickled to see us. But she was so full of care, -and anxiety, and work, she couldn’t hardly speak to us. She hadn’t no -girl, and was tryin’ to get supper for that hull drove of men, and -hadn’t much to do with, for the Elder after spendin’ his hull life and -strength in tryin’ to keep ’em straight in this world and gettin’ ’em -headed straight towards the next, couldn’t get his pay from the -Shackvillians. Her childern was a follerin’ her round—her husband -needin’ headin’ off every moment or two, he was that absent-minded. I -declare, I never was sorrier for anybody than I was for Serepta. - -And then right on top of her other sufferin’s, every time she would come -into the settin’-room, one tall minister with a cadavery look and long -yeller whiskers would tackle her on the subject of religion, tryin’ to -get her to relate her experience, right there, and tellin’ of her hisen. -That seemed to wear on her the most of anything, a wantin’ to use him -well, and knowin’ her supper was a spilein’, and her infant babes -demandin’ her attention, and her husband a fumblin’ round in the suller -way, or buttery, needin’ headin’ off. - -Truly, in the words of the Sammist, “there is a time for things, and a -place for ’em,” and it seemed as if he might have known better. But he -was one of the kind that will talk. And there he sot lookin’ calm and -cadavery, a pullin’ his old yeller whiskers, and holdin’ her tight by -the reins of her good manners, a urgin’ her to tell her experience, and -tellin’ of her hisen. I declare, I’d been glad to have laid holt of his -old yeller whiskers myself, I was that out of patience with him, and -I’ll bet he’d a felt it if I had. Finally I spoke up and says I: - -“Set right down and relate your experience, Serepta.” Says I, “What is -vittles compared to instructive and edifyin’ conversation.” Says I, “I -wouldn’t try to get a mite of supper to-night.” - -Knowin’ what I _do_ know, divin’ deep into the heights and depths of -men’s naters as I have doven, I knew that this would break Serepta’s -chains. She wasn’t exhorted any more. She had time to get their suppers. -And I laid to and helped her all I could. I got two of the infant babes -to sleep, and give the two biggest boys some candy, and headed him off -once or twice, and eased her burdens all I could. - -But she was dretful worried where to put ’em to sleep. The hard and -wearisome task of gettin’ 17 men into three beds without layin’ ’em on -top of each other, was a wearin’ on her. And she was determined to have -Josiah and me stay too. She said she was used to jest such a house full, -and she should get along. - -Says I, mildly but firmly, “Serepta I haint a goin’ to sleep on the -buttery shelves, nor I don’t want you to, it is dangerous. Josiah and me -will get a lodgement to the tarven in Shackville, and lodge there. And -to-morrow when the crowd gets thinned out, we will come back and make -our visit.” - -She told us not to go; she said there was a corner of the parlor that -wasn’t occupied, and she had blankets enough, she could make us -comfortable. - -Says I, “Hang on to the corner yourself, Serepta, if you can. Josiah and -me have made up our 2 minds. We are goin’ to the tarven.” - -Says Josiah—for he seemed to think it would comfort her—“We’ll come back -again Serepta, we’ll come back bime-by.” - -The next day early in the forenoon, A. M., we arrove again at Serepta’s -dwellin’. She had jest got the last man of the drove started off, but -she was tusslin’ with two colporters and an agent for a Bible Society. -And two wimmen set by ready to grapple her as soon as the men started -off. One of ’em had a sort of a mournful look, and the other was as hard -a lookin’ woman as I ever see. She was fearfully humbly, but that haint -why I call her hard lookin’. I don’t lay up her humbleness ag’inst her, -knowin’ well that our faces haint made to order. But she looked _hard_, -as if her nater was hard as a rock; and her heart, and her disposition, -and everything. She had a large wart on her nose, and that also looked -hard as a gravel stun, and some like it. She had a few long whiskers -growin’ out under her chin, and I couldn’t help wonderin’ how anything -in the line of vegetation could grow out of such a grannyt soil. - -After lookin’ at her a half minute it didn’t surprise me a mite to hear -that her name was Horn, Miss Horn. I see these two wimmen look round the -house examinin’ everything as close as if they was goin’ to be swore -about it to a justice to save their lives. Serepta hadn’t had time to -wash a dish, nor sweep a single sweep, and her childern wasn’t dressed. -And I heerd Miss Horn hunch the other one with her large, bony knuckles, -and whisper: - -“She lays abed shamefully late, sometimes. The smoke rose out of her -chimbly this mornin’ at exactly 17 minutes past 6, jest an hour and two -minutes earlier than it was yesterday mornin’, and half an hour and -twenty seconds earlier than it was the mornin’ before that.” - -“Gettin’ up and burnin’ out the wood the meetin’ house furnishes for -’em, and not a dish washed. It is a shame,” says the other woman. - -[Illustration: MISS HORN.] - -“A shame!” says Miss Horn. “It is a burnin’ shame, for a minister’s -wife, that ort to be a pattern to the meetin’ house. And she can’t find -time to go a visitin’ and talk about her neighbors’ affairs. When -anybody don’t feel like visitin’, and talkin’ about their neighbors’ -doin’s, it is a sign there is sunthin’ wrong about ’em. There haint a -thing done in the neighborhood but what I am knowin’ to; not a quarrel -for the last twenty years but what I have had my hand in it. I am ready -to go a visitin’ every day of my life, and see what is goin’ on. _I_ -haint too haughty and proud spirited to go into back doors without -knockin’ and see what folks are a doin’ in their kitchens, and what they -are a talkin’ about when they think nobody is round. And it shows a -haughty, proud spirit, when anybody haint willin’ to go round and see -what they can see in folks’es housen, and talk it over with the other -neighbors.” - -Says the mournful woman, “I heard Bill Danks’es wife say the other day, -that she thought it looked queer to her, her visitin’ the poor members -of the church jest as often as she did the rich ones. She thought—Bill’s -wife did—that it looked shiftless in her.” - -“She _is_ shiftless,” says Miss Horn. - -“She acts dretful sort o’ pleasant,” says the other woman, “seems -willin’ to accomidate her neighbors; stands ready to help ’em in times -of trouble; and seems to treat everybody in a lady-like, quiet way; but -I persume it is all put on.” - -“Put on! I _know_ it is put on,” says Miss Horn, “She has got a proud, -haughty soul, or she would be willin’ to do as the rest of us do.” And -then she stopped whisperin’ for half a minute and looked round the house -again, and hunched the other woman, and whispered—“For a minister’s wife -that ort to be a pattern, such housekeepin’ is shameful.” - -And the Bible agent spoke up jest then, and says he, “Of course, as a -minister’s wife and a helper in Israel, you are willin’ to give your -time to us, and bear our burdens.” - -And Serepta sithed and said she was—and she meant it too. I declare, it -was all I could do to keep my peace. But I am naterally very -close-mouthed, so I kep’ still. Serepta couldn’t hear what the wimmen -said, for she was a tryin’ with that anxious face of hern to hear every -word the Bible agent had to say, and to try to do jest what was right by -the colporters. And the mournful lookin’ woman hunched Miss Horn, and -says she,— - -“Jest see how she listens to them men. She seems to talk to ’em jest as -free as if they was wimmen. It may be all right, but it don’t _look_ -well. And how earnest they are a talkin’ to her; they seem to sort o’ -look up to her, as if she was jest about right. Men don’t have no such a -sort of a respectful, reverential look onto their faces when they are a -talkin’ to you or me; they don’t look up to _us_ in no such sort of a -way. There may be nothin’ wrong in it, but it don’t look well. It would -almost seem as if they was after her.” - -“After her! I _know_ they are after her, or else they wouldn’t be a -talkin’ to her so respectful, and she is after them that is plain to be -seen, or else she wouldn’t be a listenin’ to ’em just as quiet and -composed as if they was wimmen. A right kind of a woman has a sort of a -mistrustin’ look to ’em, when they are a talkin’ to men; they have a -sort of a watchful turn to their eye, as if they was a lookin’ out for -’em, lookin’ out for sunthin’ wrong. I always have that look onto me, -and you can see that she haint a mite of it. See her set there and talk. -If ever a woman was after a man she is after them three men.” - -I couldn’t have sot and heerd another word of their envious, spiteful, -low-lived gossip, without bustin’ right out on the spot, and speakin’ my -mind before ’em all, so I baconed the childern out into Serepta’s room, -and washed and dressed ’em, and then I took holt and put on her -dish-water and bilt a fire under it, for it had gone out while she was a -tusslin’ with them agents. When I went back into the sittin’-room again, -I see the colporters had gone, and the wimmen had tackled her. They -wanted her to join a new society they had jest got up, “The Cumberin’ -Marthas.” - -Serepta’s face looked awful troubled, her mind a soarin’ off I knew out -into the kitchen, amongst her dishes that wasn’t washed, and her infant -babes, and I could see she was a listenin’ to see if she could hear -anything of her husband, and whether he needed headin’ off. But she -wanted to do jest right, and told ’em so. - -“She would join it, if the church thought it was her duty to, though as -she belonged to fourteen different societies now, she didn’t know really -when she could git time—” - -“Time!” says Miss Horn. “I guess there is time enough in the world to do -duties. ‘Go to the ant thou sluggard, consider her ways and be wise.’” -And as she repeated this line of poetry, she groaned some, and rolled up -the whites of her eyes. - -Serepta’s face looked red as blood, but she didn’t answer a word back. -Serepta Simmons is a Christian. I believe it as much as I believe I am -J. Allen’s wife. And I spoke right up and says I: - -“Bein’ a searcher after information, and speakin’ as a private -investigater, and a woman that has got a vow on her, I ask what are the -Marthas expected to do?” - -Says Miss Horn, “They are expected to be cumbered all the time with -cares; to be ready any time, day or night, to do anything the public -demands of ’em; to give all their time, their treasure if they have got -any, and all the energies of their mind and body to the public good, to -be cumbered by it in any and every way.” - -Says I, “Again, I ask you as a private woman with a vow, aint it hard on -the Marthas?” - -She said it was; but she was proud to be one of ’em, proud to be -cumbered. And she said—givin’ Serepta a awful searchin’ look—“That when -a certain person that ort to be a pattern, and a burnin’ and a shinin’ -light, wouldn’t put their name down, there was weaker vessels that it -would be apt to break into—it would make divisions and sisms.” - -That skairt Serepta and she was jest about puttin’ her name down, but -she couldn’t help murmurin’ sunthin’ about time, “afraid I won’t have -time to do jest right by everybody.” - -“Time!” says Miss Horn, scornfully and angrily,—“Time! ‘Go to the ant -thou sluggard, consider her ways and be wise.’” - -But jest as Miss Horn was a finishin’ repeatin’ her poetry, and before -Serepta had time to put her name down, all of a sudden the door opened, -and another great tall woman marched in. I noticed there didn’t none of -’em knock, but jest opened the door and stalked in, jest as if the -minister’s house, as well as he and his wife belonged to ’em and they -had a perfect right to stream in every minute. I declare, it madded me, -for I say if home means anything it means a place where anybody can find -rest, and repose and freedom from unwelcome intrusion. And I say, and I -contend for it, that I had jest as lives have anybody steal anything -else from me, as to steal my time and my comfort. There probable haint a -woman standin’ on feet at the present age of the world, (with or without -vows on ’em) that is more horsepitable, and gladder to see her friends -than Samantha Allen, late Smith. There are those, whose presence is more -restful, and refreshin’ and inspirin’, than the best cup of tea or -coffee that ever was drunk. The heart, soul, and mind send out stronger -tendrils that cling closer and firmer even than some of the twigs of the -family tree. Kindred aims, hopes, and sympathies are a closer tie than -4th cousin. - -There is help, inspiration and delight in the presence of those who are -more nearly and truly related to us than if they was born on our -father’s or mother’s side unbeknown to them. And friends of our soul, it -would be a hard world indeed, if we could never meet each other. And I -would advise Serepta as a filler of the bottle she was brought up on, -and a well-wisher, to visit back and forth occasionally, at proper times -and seasons, and neighbor considerable with all who might wish to -neighbor, be they aliens or friends, Horns or softer material. Standin’ -firm and steadfast, ready to borry and lend salaratus, clothes-pins, -allspice, bluein’ bags, and etcetery, and in times of trouble, standin’ -by ’em like a rock, and so 4th. - -The Bible says, “Iron sharpeneth iron, so does a man the countenance of -his friend.” But in the words of the Sammist (slightly changed), there -is a time for visitin’ and a time for stayin’ to home. A time to -neighbor, and a time to refrain from neighborin’,—a time to talk, and a -time to write sermons, wash dishes, and mop out the kitchen. And what I -would beware Miss Horn and the rest of ’em is, of sharpenin’ that “iron” -so uncommon sharp that it will cut friendship right into in the middle; -or keep on sharpenin’ it, till they git such a awful fine pint on it, -that before they know it, it will break right off so blunt that they -can’t never git an age put on it again. - -They ort to respect and reverence each other’s individuality.—(That is a -long hefty word, but I have got it all right, for I looked it out in -Thomas Jefferson’s big dictionary, see what it meant, and spelt it all -out as I went along; nobody need to be afraid of sayin’ it jest as I -have got it down.) Because Miss Horn, and the rest of ’em git lonesome, -they hadn’t ort to inflict themselves and their gossip onto a busy man -or woman who don’t git lonesome. Good land! if anybody lays holt of life -as they ort to, they haint no time to be lonesome. Now Serepta Simmons -meant well, and liked her neighbors, and their childern, and wanted to -treat ’em friendly and handsome. But she hankered dretfully after havin’ -a home of her own, and not livin’ with ’em all premiscous (as it were.) -But they wouldn’t let her; she didn’t have a minute she could call her -own. The Shackvillians seemed to think she belonged to ’em, jest as much -as the clock on the meetin’ house did, and they perused her every minute -jest as they did that. It made her feel curious, sunthin’ as if she was -livin’ out doors, or in an open cage in the menagery way. - -They flocked in on her all the hull time without knockin’, at all times -of the day and night, before breakfast, and after bedtime, and right -along through the day, stiddy; watchin’ her with as keen a vision as if -she was a one-eyed turkey carried round for a side-show; findin’ fault -with everything she did or didn’t do, inflictin’ their gossip on her, -and collectin’ all they could to retail to other folks’es housen; -watchin’ every motion she made, and commentin’ on it in public; catchin’ -every little word she dropped in answer to their gossipin’ remarks, and -addin’ and swellin’ out that little word till it wouldn’t know itself it -was so different, and then repeatin’ it on the house tops (as it were). - -I declare, it madded me to see a likely woman so imposed upon, and I -thought to myself, if it was _me_, I should ruther have ’em steal pork -right out of my pork barrell, than to have ’em steal my peace and -comfort. - -But as I was sayin’, this woman come in right through the back door -without knockin’, as independent as you please, and as she sot down she -looked all round the house so’s to remember how everything looked, so’s -to tell it again, though Serepta wasn’t no more to blame than a babe two -or three hours old, for her work not bein’ done up. I see that this -woman glared at Miss Horn, and Miss Horn glared back at her, and I knew -in a minute she was gittin’ up another society. And so it turned out. -She wanted Serepta to head the list of the “Weepin’ Marys” a opposition -party to the “Cumberin’ Marthas.” - -Serepta looked as if she would sink. But I spoke right up, for I was -determined to take her part. And says I, “Mom, I am of a investigatin’ -turn, and am collectin’ information on a tower, and may I ask as a -well-wisher to the sect, what job has the ‘Weepin’ Marys’ got ahead of -’em. What are they expected to tackle?” says I in a polite way. - -Says she, “They are expected to spend the hull of their time, day and -night, a learnin’, pryin’ into docterines, and studyin’ on some way to -ameliorate the condition of the heathen, and the African gorillas.” - -Says I, “In them cases if Serepta jines ’em, what chance would the Elder -run of gittin’ anything to eat, or Serepta, or the childern?” - -“Eatin’,” says she, “what is eatin’ compared to a knowledge of the -docterines and the condition of the perishin’ heathen?” - -“But,” says I in reasonable axents, “folks have got to eat or else -die—and if they haint able to hire a girl, they have got to cook the -vittles themselves or else they’ll perish, and die jest as dead as a -dead heathen.” - -Speakin’ about Serepta’s time, always seemed to set Miss Horn off onto -her poetry, and she repeated again,—“Go to the ant—” - -But I interrupted of her, and says I, “You have advised Serepta several -times to go to her _aunt_ and be _wise_. _I_ am her aunt, and I motion -she falls in with the advice you have give her, in a handsome way. I -advise her to do up her work. And I advise you to clear out, all of you, -and give her a chance to wash her dishes, and nurse her babies, and get -her dinner.” For truly dinner time was approachin’. - -They acted mad, but they started off. Serepta’s face was as white as a -white cotton sheet, as she seen ’em go, she was that skairt; but I kep’ -pretty cool and considerable firm, for I see she needed a friend. I laid -to and helped her do up her work, and git her dinner. And she owned up -to me that her work wouldn’t seem to be nothin’ to her if she could have -her house and her time to herself some. I see plain, that she was a -carryin’ the hull meetin’ house on her back, though she didn’t say so. I -could see that she dassant say her soul was her own, she was so afraid -of offendin’ the flock. - -She happened to say to me as we was a washin’ up the dishes, how much -she wanted a new dress. Her uncle had give her the money to git one, and -she wanted it the worst way. - -“Why don’t you git it then?” says I. - -“Oh,” says she, “the church don’t like to have me git anything to wear, -and they make so many speeches about my bein’ extravagant, and breakin’ -down my husband’s influence, and settin’ a wicked example of -extravagance, and ruinin’ the nation, that I can’t bear to git a rag of -clothes to wear.” - -“Well,” says I calmly wipin’ the butter plate, “if you feel like that, I -don’t see anything to hinder you from goin’ naked. I don’t s’pose they -would like that.” - -“Oh no,” says she, ready to burst out a cryin’. “They don’t like it if I -haint dressed up slick. They say I am a stumblin’ block, if I haint as -dressy as the other minister’s wife.” - -Says I, “Serepta you are in a bad spot. You seem to be in the same place -the old drunkard’s wife was. He said he’d ‘whip Sally if supper was -ready,’ and he’d ‘whip Sally if it wasn’t.’” - -“Yes,” says she, “that is just where I stand. They say I am a pattern -for the church to foller, and so I must be all the time away from home a -workin’ for the heathen and missionary societies, for a minister’s wife -must ‘be given to good works.’ And I must at the same time be to home -all the time a workin’ and a takin’ care of my family, ‘For Sarah kept -the tent.’ I have got to be to home a encouragin’ my husband all the -time, ‘a holdin’ up his arms,’ like Aaron and Hur, and I have got to be -away all the time, a ‘holdin’ up the ark.’ I have got to be to home a -lettin’ out my little boy’s pantaloons, and at the same time away -‘enlargin’ the borders of Zion.’ I have got to give all my time to -convertin’ the heathen or ‘woe be to me,’ and have got to be to home all -the time a takin’ care of my own household, or I am ‘worse than an -infidel.’ And amongst it all,” says she, “there is so much expected of -me, that I git sometimes so worn out and discouraged I don’t know what -to do.” - -And Serepta’s tears gently drizzled down into the dish-water, for she -was a washin’, and I was a wipin’. - -I rubbed away on a pie plate, a musin’ in deep thought, and then I -segested this to her, in pretty even tones, but earnest and deep: - -“Did you ever try a mindin’ your own business, and makin’ other folks -mind theirn?” - -“No,” says she meekly. And she sithed as deep as I ever heerd any one -sithe. “I mind my business pretty well,” says she, “but I never tried to -make other folks mind theirn. I wasn’t strong enough.” - -“Well,” says I, “before I leave this place, I lay out to make a change.” -Says I, “many is the time I have filled the bottle you was brought up -on, and I haint a goin’ to stand by and see you killed. And before I -leave Shackville, the meetin’ house has got to git offen your back, or -I’ll know the reason why.” - -She looked considerable skairt, but I could see it made her feel better -to have somebody to sort o’ lean on. And as we finished our dishes, (the -buttery was full on ’em, she hadn’t had time to half wash ’em the night -before,) she went on and told more of her troubles to me. - -She said her husband bein’ a handsome man, the other wimmen in the -church naturally took to him. She said there wasn’t a jealous hair in -the hull of her back hair, or foretop, and her husband’s morals was -known to her to be sound as sound could be, and she said he didn’t like -it no better than she did, this bein’ follered up so uncommon close by -’em. She said it was kinder wearin’ on her to see it go on. But she -meant to be reasonable, knowin’ that ministers was always took to by -wimmen. - -“Took to!” says I. “I should think as much!” Says I, “Wimmen are as flat -as pancakes in some things, and this is one of ’em. I have seen a pack -of wimmen before now, a actin’ round a minister, till their actin’ was -jest as good as thoroughwort to my stomach, jest as sickenin’.” Says I, -“I don’t wonder that the ’postle spoke about how beautiful minister’s -feet was. I don’t wonder that he mentioned their feet in particular, for -if ever there was a set of men that needed good feet in a world full of -foolish wimmen, it is them.” - -But Serepta sithed, and I see that she was a carryin’ the meetin’ house, -(as it were.) I see that Miss Horn was on her mind, and I pitted her. -She said Miss Horn was the hardest cross she had to bear. She said she -would watch her chimbly for hours, to see what time they got up. And -havin’ the newraligy a good deal, and settin’ up with it, watchin’ with -that and her babies, she sometimes slept till late in the mornin’. And -her husband would git his brain so completely rousted up a writin’ his -sermons that he couldn’t quell it down, and git it quieted off so’s to -rest any till most mornin’. And she said Miss Horn and her hired girl -would rise at daybreak and watch her chimbly, one hour on, and one hour -off, till they see the smoke come out of it, and then one of ’em would -sally out to tell the exact minute to the neighborhood, while the other -got the breakfast. They didn’t try to do anything else only jest cook, -and tend to Serepta and the other neighbors. And their gittin’ up so -early, give ’em a chance to git their housework done, and then have as -many as seven hours apiece left to gossip round the neighborhood. They -made it profitable, dretful, as Miss Horn told Serepta she despised -lazyness. - -But Serepta said it made her feel curious, when they would come in and -tell her the exact minute the smoke of her cook stove rose upward, for -she—bein’ in the habit of goin’ to work when she did git up—didn’t have -much time to devote to the pursuit of smoke. She said it was sort o’ -wearin’ on her, not so much on the account of their callin’ her lazy, -which she expected and looked out for, but it made her feel as if it was -war time, and she was one of the enemy. She said to think their eyes was -on her chimbly jest as soon as the sun was up, a watchin’ it so close, -it give her a as curious a feelin’ as she ever felt; she felt somehow as -if she was under the military. She said she felt as if she was a tory -more’n half the time, on this very account; it wore on her considerable. - -“Why don’t you spunk up Serepta Simmons,” says I, “and tell Miss Horn -and the rest of ’em, that when you git so that you haint nothin’ else to -do but watch other folks’es chimblys, you will hire out for a scarecrow, -and so earn a respectable livin’, and be somebody?” - -“Oh,” says she, “Miss Horn wouldn’t like it if I did.” - -“Like it!” says I. “I don’t s’pose asalt and batterers love to be took -up and handled for their asaltin’,” and says I, “I had jest as lives -have my body salted and battered, as to have my feelin’s. Oh!” says I -almost wildly, “if I had the blowin’ up of that Horn, I’d give it such a -blast, that there would be no need of soundin’ on it again for years.” I -spoke almost incoherently, for I was agitated to an extreme degree. - -But Serepta went on to say that she had “gained thirteen ounces of flesh -last winter, in one month. Miss Horn had been a visitin’ to Loontown to -a brother’s who had died and left her quite a property.” And says she, -“I did hear that she was goin’ to be married to a widower up there, but -I don’t s’pose there is any such good news for me as that. I haint dared -to lot on it much, knowin’ well what a world of sorrow and affliction -this is, and knowin’ that freedom and happiness haint much likely to -ever be my lot. I s’pose the chimbly and I have got to be watched jest -as long as we both live.” - -But she didn’t have no time to multiply any more words, for as we looked -out of the buttery winder, we see her husband a walkin’ slowly along -backwards and forwards with his hands under his coat tails, a composin’ -a sermon, as I s’posed. But as we looked, he forgot himself, and come up -bunt ag’inst the barn, and hit himself a awful blow on his forward; -Serepta started off on the run to tend to him and head him off. - -But that very afternoon I had a chance to speak my mind, and break her -chains. Serepta and I was a settin’ there as contented and happy as you -please, for Serepta was a master hand to love her home, and would have -give the best ear she had, for the priviledge of bein’ let alone to make -a happy home for them she loved, and take care of ’em. She was a mendin’ -her 2 boys’ clothes, for they was as ragged as injuns, though truly as -the poet observes,—“she was not to blame.” And I also was a tryin’ in my -feeble way to help her and put a seat into the biggest little boy’s -pantaloons; we had got ’em to bed for that purpose. And as we sot and -worked, we could hear ’em in the room overhead, a throwin’ the pillers, -and talkin’ language that for minister’s childern was scandelous—for she -had had to let ’em run loose, though to quote again the words of the -poet,—“_she_ was not to blame,” havin’ got it into her head that it was -her duty to carry the meetin’ house. - -Well, as I was a sayin’, we was a settin’ there, when all of a sudden, -without no warnin’ of no kind, the door opened without no rappin’ on it, -or anything, and in walked what I supposed at the time, was the hull -meetin’ house; I was so wild at first as I beheld ’em, that I almost -expected to see ’em bring in the steeple. I was skairt. But I found by -strict measurement, when my senses come back, that there wasn’t only -sixteen wimmen, and two childern and one old deacon. I heerd afterwards, -that he was the only man they could git to come with ’em to labor with -Serepta. (He was old as the hills, and dretful childish, so they got -round him.) - -Men has their faults. None can be more deeply sensible of that great -truth than I am, as I often tell Josiah. But truly, so far as gossip and -meddlin’ and interferin’ with your neighbor’s business is concerned, -wimmen is fur ahead of the more opposite sect. It is mysterious that it -should be so, but so it is, factorum. - -[Illustration: A VISIT FROM THE CHURCH.] - -Serepta looked white as a white ghost, and ready to sink right down -through the floor into the suller, for from past experience she knew -they had come to labor with her. But I held firm as any rock you can -bring up, Plymouth, or Bunker Hill, or any of ’em. And when they glared -at me, thank fortin I was enabled to do what duty and inclination both -called on me to do, and glare back at ’em, and do a good job in the line -o’ glarin’ too. - -They seemed to be as mad at me as they was at Serepta, and madder. But I -wasn’t afraid of any on ’em, and when they all commenced talkin’ to -once, a complainin’ of Serepta and her doin’s and her not doin’s, my -principles enabled me to look at ’em through my specks with a scornful -mean that would have spoke louder than words if they had understood -anything of the language of means. - -Finally they all got to talkin’ together, a complainin’. “Why didn’t she -jine the ‘Cumberin’ Marthas?’ Why couldn’t she head the ‘Weepin’ Marys?’ -Why don’t she take more interest in the female fellah’s of Cairo? Why -don’t she show more enthusiasm about the heathens and gorillas?” - -Just then I heerd the biggest little boy swear like a pirate, and kick -the other one out of bed, and I spoke coldly, very coldly: - -“She’ll have a span of gorillas of her own pretty soon if she haint -allowed no time to take care on ’em, she wont have to go to Africa for -’em, either;” says I, “Serepta will show you some male fellahs that will -need more help than any of your female ones, bime-by; she will give you -a good job in the line of heathens to convert in a few years, if things -go on as they are a goin’ on now.” - -With that, Serepta burst right out, and wept and cried, and cried and -wept. It affected me awfully, and I spoke right up, and says I: - -“Heathens are first rate themes to foller, but there is different ways -of follerin’ ’em;” says I, “some will set their eyes on a heathen in -Africa, and foller him so blindly that there can be ten heathens a -caperin’ right round ’em to home, and they won’t see none on ’em.” And -then I felt so, that I allegoried some, right there on the spot. Says I: - -“After a big snow-storm, it may seem noble and grand to go round -sweepin’ off meetin’ housen and etcetery; but in my opinion, duty would -call on a man first, to make a path to the well for his own family, and -the barn, then shovel round freely, where duty called. What good does it -do to go off in foreign pastures a cuttin’ down thistle tops, when you -are a raisin’ a big crop of ’em to home for somebody else to be -scratched by? What advantage to the world at large is it, if a woman -converts one heathen way off in India, and at the same time by neglect, -and inattention and carelessness, raises a crop of seven of ’em in her -own house. My advise to such would be—and so would Josiah’s—work in the -garden God set you over. Try by earnest care and prayer, untirin’ -diligent culture and, if need be, an occasional rakin’ down, to keep -your own heathen crop down to the lowest possible state, and then after -you have done this, do all you can for other heathens promiscous.” - -But they glared at Serepta more glarin’ than they had before, and says -Miss Horn:—“She wont do nothin’; she is shiftless.” And then I spoke out -in tremblin’ tones, I was so agitated: - -“Serepta is my own niece on my father’s side, and I helped to bring her -up on a bottle, and she didn’t nurse a cast-iron strength and a leather -constitution out of it as some of you seem to think she did;” says I, -“such is not the nature of cow’s milk, neither is it the nature of -bottles.” Says I, “If she has got a tender, timid, lovin’ disposition, -and one that is easily influenced, so much the more pity for her in this -state, that Shackville has called her to be in. But as it is, she is -willin’ to be killed, and you with probable religious intentions are -willin’ to kill her.” - -Oh how they glared at me; but I kep’ on as firm as Gibbralter: - -“Her husband is a good man, and thinks enough of her; but he is deep -learnt and absent-minded, and needs headin’ off. And when he is walkin’ -by himself through the shady lanes and crooked pathways of the -docterines and creeds, and so on, and so 4th; when he is tryin’ to stand -up straight with one foot on Genesis, and the other on geoligy, tryin’ -his best to break a path through the wilderniss of beliefs a road that -shall lead his hearers straight to heaven’s gate; with all this on his -hands, how can he be expected to keep his eye every minute on the little -woman by his side. How can he, when he is absent-minded, and needs -headin’ off, how can he be expected to know whether the meetin’ house is -a carryin’ her, or she is a carryin’ the meetin’ house.” Says I, -“Serepta Simmons is a Christian woman, and if she has time to spare -after taken’ care of them that Providence has placed in her keepin’, she -would be willin’ to do what she could for other heathen nations, and -tribes; it would be her duty and her priviledge. - -“But,” says I, “because Serepta’s husband is hired out to you for 200 -and 50 dollars a year, you have no more right to control Serepta’s -actions, and time, than you have to order round that old stun female -that keeps house by herself out in Egypt by the pyramids. I can’t think -of her name, but howsumever it haint no matter; I wish Serepta had some -of her traits, a good firm stun disposition, that couldn’t be coaxed nor -skairt into bearin’ burdens enough to break down seven wimmen. I’d love -to see you order old what’s-her-name round; I’d love to see you make -_her_ do all the housework and sewin’ for a big family, head off a deep -learnt, absent-minded husband, take care of five infant childern, and -carry round a meetin’ house. She’s kep’ a stiddy head on her shoulders -and minded her own business for centuries, and so is a pattern for some -other wimmen I know of, to foller.” - -Oh how that madded ’em, and Miss Horn spoke up and says she: - -“We have got a claim on her, and we’ll let you know we have.” - -Says I, “The meetin’ house pays Elder Simmons 200 and 50 dollars, and so -has got a claim on him, and how much does it lay out to pay Serepta; how -much does it lay out to give her for the comin’ year?” - -“Not one cent,” screamed out Miss Horn in skairt, excited axents. “Not -one cent,” says nine other wimmen and the old deacon. - -Then says I, risin’ up on my feet and wavin’ my hand out nobly: - -“Clear out, the hull caboodle of you, and” I added in still firmer, -nobler axents, “if the meetin’ house don’t leggo of Serepta, I’ll _make_ -it leggo.” - -I s’pose my mean was that awful and commandin’ that it filled ’em with -awe, and affright. They started right off, almost on the run, two -able-bodied wimmen takin’ the old deacon between ’em. - - * * * * * - -I had a letter from Serepta yesterday. She is a gettin’ along first -rate; her time is her own; her childern are gettin’ more’n half -civilized; and she has gained a pound a week. - -[Illustration] - - - - - A VISIT TO PHILANDER SPICER’SES FOLKS. - - -Knowin’ that Philander Spicers’es folks was well off, and wouldn’t be -put to it for things to wait on us, we thought we wouldn’t write to tell -’em we was a comin’, but give ’em a happy surprise. They owned five -hundred acres of land, and had oceans of money out at interest. Well, it -was about the middle of the afternoon, P. M. when we arrove at their -dwellin’ place. It was a awful big, noble lookin’ house, but every -winder and winder blind was shut up tight, and it looked lonesome, and -close; but I haint one to be daunted, so I stepped up and rung at the -bell. Nobody come. Then I rung at it again, and Josiah took my umberell -and kinder rapped on the door with it, pretty considerable loud; and -then a dejected lookin’ man hollered at us from the barn door, and says -he: - -“You wont get in there.” - -Says I, “Why not, is it the house of mournin’?” says I; for there was -sunthin’ strange and melancholly in his tone. - -“Because you might let in a fly,” says he. - -He didn’t say nothin’ more, but stood a lookin’ at us dretful dejected -and melancholly-like, and Josiah and me stood lookin’ at him, and we -felt curious, very. But pretty soon I found and recovered myself, and I -says in pretty firm tones: - -“If Mahala Spicer, she that was Mahala Allen lives here, I lay out to -see her before I leave these premises.” - -“Well,” says the man, “foller up that path round the back side of the -house, and you’ll find her; we live in the wood-house.” As he said that, -he seemed to kinder git over into the manger, and I laid holt of Josiah, -and says I: - -“That man is Philander Spicer, and he has seen trouble.” - -“Bein’ a married man he might expect to—” - -“Expect to _what_ Josiah Allen?” says I, lookin’ at him with a mean that -was like a icicle for stiffness and coolness. - -“Oh! I meant he might expect to lay up property. What a big house! I -declare Samantha, I haint seen so big and nice a house sense we left -Jonesville.” - -And truly, it was awful big and nice; big enough for half a dozen -families, but it was shet up fearfully close and tight, as tight as if -air and sunshine and Josiah and me was deadly pisen. And as we meandered -on round the house by winder after winder and door after door, shet up -as tight as glass and blinders could make ’em, I’ll be hanged if it -didn’t seem some as if it was war time, and Josiah and me was two -Hessian troopers, a tryin’ to break in and couldn’t. - -At last, way on the back side of the house, we come to a little -wood-house built on, and there we see the first sign of life. The door -was open and three little childern sot out in a row by the side of the -house, on a clean board. They looked lonesome; they was ruffled off -dretful nice, and their shoes shone like glass bottles, but they looked -awful old and care-worn in their faces. - -“Does Mahala Spicer, she that was Mahala Allen live here?” says I to the -oldest one. She looked in her face as if she might be a hundred years of -age, but from her size she wasn’t probable more’n nine or nine and a -half. - -“Yes mom,” says she, sort o’ turnin’ her eyes at me, but she never moved -a mite. - -Says I, “Is she to home?” - -“Yes mom.” - -Says I, “Speakin’ as a investigator, what are you settin’ there all in a -row for? Why haint you out a playin’ in the yard this nice day?” - -As I mentioned the idee of playin’, their faces, as long as they was -before, lengthened out awfully, and the two youngest ones kicked right -out. - -[Illustration: TOO MANY RUFFLES.] - -“Mother wont let us play;” says the oldest one in bitter axents. “She -says we should muss up our ruffles, and rip off the knife pleatin’s.” - -“Get our shoes dusty,” says the next one in vicious tones. - -“Tear our overskirts,” says the four year old in loud angry axents, and -again she kicked right out, and every one of ’em looked bitterly mad, -and morbid; a morbider lot of faces I never laid eyes on. I didn’t say -nothin’ more, but I looked at Josiah, and Josiah looked at me; we felt -curious. But anon, or pretty near that time, I found and recovered -myself and so did Josiah, and we walked up to the door and knocked. - -“Come in,” says a voice in a kind of a sharp tone, as if the owner of -the voice was awful busy and care-worn. So I and my companion walked in. -It was as comfortable a room as wood-houses generally be, but of course -there wasn’t much grandeur to it. There was about a dozen clean boards -laid along one side for a floor and on it a cook stove was sot, and -right by it was a sewin’ machine, and Mahala set by it a sewin’. But -I’ll be hanged if I could see in that minute, one of Mahala Spicer’ses -old looks; she looked so thin and care-worn and haggard. And if she is -one of the relations on Josiah side, I’ll say, and I’ll stick to it that -she looked as cross as a bear. I shouldn’t have had no idee who she was, -if I hadn’t seen her there. She knew Josiah and me in a minute -for—though I do say it that shouldn’t—folks say that my companion -Josiah, and myself do hold our looks wonderful. And bein’ (sometimes) so -affectionate towards each other in our demeanor, we have several times -been took for a young married couple. - -I should judge there was from half a bushel to three pecks of ruffles -and knife pleatin’s that lay round her sewin’ machine and in her lap; -but she got up and shook hands with us and invited us to take our things -off. And then she said, bein’ as we was such near relations, (all in the -family as it were,) she would ask us to set right down where we was; it -bein’ fly time, she had got the rest of the house all shet up tight; had -jest got it cleaned out from top to bottom, and she wanted to keep it -clean. - -I didn’t say nothin’, bein’ one that is pretty close mouthed naturally; -but I kep’ up considerable of a thinkin’ in my mind. After we sot down, -she give a kind of a anxious look onto the floor, and she see a little -speck of dirt that had fell off of Josiah’s boots, and first we knew she -was a wipin’ it up with a mop. Josiah felt as cheap as the dirt, I know -he did, and cheaper; but he didn’t say nothin’, nor I nuther. - -She said then, if we’d excuse her she’d keep right on with her work, -because she had got dretful behindhand in ruffles. She said it kep’ her -every minute of her spare time to work a makin’ ruffles in order to keep -herself decent, and make the childern keep up with other folks’es -childern. So she nipped to and worked away dretfully, and every time the -door opened she would look up with such a wild anxious gaze, horrified -seeminly, for fear a fly would git in; and every time Josiah or her -husband (that man at the barn _did_ prove to be her husband) would move, -she would run after ’em, and wipe ’em up with a mop. It was a curious -time as I ever see in my life. She didn’t seem to sense anything only -ruffles and such like. Her mind all seemed to be narrowed down and -puckered up, jest like trimmin’, nothin’ free and soarin’ about it at -all—though she would talk some about fly time, and how hard it was to -keep ’em out of the house, and once she asked me which I preferred for -mops, rags or tow. - -I tried to make talk with her; and says I, in a real friendly way: - -“You have got three good lookin’ childern Mahala.” - -“Yes,” says she, “three and three is six, and three is nine, and three -is twelve, and three is fifteen; fifteen ruffles at the least -calculation, to make ’em look decent, and like other folks’es childern; -and the biggest one ought to have six.” - -Says I, “Your husband looks as if he might be a good man, and a good -provider.” - -“Yes,” says she, “he means well, but he is a awful hand to let in flies. -Two years ago this summer he let in four at one time into my best room, -I counted them as I drove ’em out. I got so wore out, a chasin’ ’em, and -a tryin’ to keep decent, that I made up my mind that we would live out -here.” - -“You don’t keep a girl, it seems?” - -“No,” said she, “I cannot get one to suit me. When I do my work myself I -know how it is done.” - -Then I atted her on other subjects; says I, “Do you see the Atlantic, -and Scribner’s, and Peterson’s and Harper’s, this summer? they are awful -interestin’.” - -Says she, “I haint seen the ocean sense I was married; and the other -families you speak of don’t live any where near us.” - -Says I, “Have you read Ruskin, Mahala?” - -I was all engaged in it at that time for Thomas J. was a readin’ it out -loud evenin’s—dretful interestin’ readin’, made you feel as if you never -got acquainted with the world till he introduced you. - -“Red Ruskin,” says she with a dreamy mean, “it seems as if we have got -some winter apples by that name, though I can’t tell for certain.” - -Then truly I thought to myself, I had got to the end of my chain. I said -no more, but sot silently knittin’, and let her foller her own bent. - -And there was truly as curious doin’s as I ever see. The little childern -couldn’t move for fear they would soil their clothes or muss their -ruffles. Her husband couldn’t take a step hardly without bein’ follered -round by a mop, and exhorted about lettin’ in flies, though he didn’t -realize his sufferin’s so much as he would, for he was to the barn the -most of the time; he had a chair out there, Josiah said, and kinder made -it his home in the manger. - -When she got supper, we had enough, and that that was good; but we eat -on a oil-cloth because it was easier to keep clean than a table cloth, -and we eat on some awful old poor lookin’ dishes, she said she had -washed up her best ones, and put ’em away so’s to keep the dust out of -’em, and she didn’t want to open the cupboard, for fear of lettin’ in a -fly. And when we went up stairs to our room that night, way up in the -front bed-room, it was carpeted all the way, the hall and stairs, and -our room, with shinin’ oil cloth. You could see your faces in it, but it -seemed awful sort o’ slippery and uncomfortable. There wasn’t a picture -nor a bracket nor a statute on any of the walls; she said her husband -wanted some, but she wouldn’t have ’em they catched dust so. The sheets -and piller cases was starched stiff to keep clean longer, and ironed and -pressed till they shone like glass. My companion almost slipped up on -the oil cloth when he went to git into bed, and as he lay down between -the stiff shinin’ sheets, he says to me in sad tones: - -“This is a slippery time, Samantha.” - -I was a takin’ off my head-dress, and didn’t reply to him, and he says -to me in still more pitiful and lonesome tones: - -“Samantha, this is a slippery time.” - -His tone was very affectin’, very; and I says to him soothinly, as I -undid my breast-pin, and took off my collar: - -“Less make the best of what we can’t help Josiah.” - -But though my tone was soothin’, it didn’t seem to soothe him worth a -cent, for says he in tremblin’ tones: - -“I am a sufferer Samantha, a great sufferer.” - -Truly as Josiah said, it _was_ a slippery time, and then not bein’ used -to be follered round and wiped up by a mop, it all wore on him. Says he, -speakin’ out in a louder, sort o’ fiercer tone: - -“Have we got to stay in this house Samantha, one minute longer than -to-morrow mornin’ at sunrise?” - -Says I, “We will set sail from here some time in the course of the day.” -For truly I thought myself I couldn’t stand the doin’s much longer; and -then Josiah went on and told me what Philander had told him; he said -Philander said he was completely wore out. He was a good lookin’ sort of -a man, and one that would, I thought, under other and happier -circumstances, love a joke; but his spirit was all broke down now. He -told Josiah it was done by a mop, by bein’ run after with a mop; he said -it would break down a leather man in a year; he said he drather set out -doors all winter then go into the house; he said he made it his home to -the barn the most of the time—lived in the manger. He said when he first -commenced life, he had a young man’s glowin’ hopes in the future; he had -loftier, higher aims in life; but now his highest ambition was to keep -house by himself in the barn, live alone there from year to year, go -jest as nasty as he could, live on flies, and eat dirt; he talked -reckless and wild. - -“But” says he, “if I should try it, she would be out there a scourin’ -the rafters; before I had been there half an hour, she would be out -there with her mop. I hope,” says he, “that I am a Christian; but,” says -he, “I dassant express the feelin’ I have towards mops. Ministers of the -Gospel would call it a wicked feelin’, and so I shant never try to tell -any one how I feel towards ’em; mops is what I bury deep in my breast.” - -Josiah said he spoke to him about how anxious and haggard his wife -looked, and how wild and keen her eyes was. - -“Yes,” say she, “she got that look a chasin’ flies; she wont let one -come within half a mile of the house if she can help it; and,” says he, -“she would be glad to keep me a horseback a helpin’ her chase ’em off; -but I wont”, says he, with a gloomy look, “I never will take a horse to -it; I’ll run ’em down myself when she sets me at it, but I wont chase -’em a horseback as long as my name is Philander Spicer.” - -The doin’s there wore on Josiah dretfully, I could see. Two or three -times after he got into a nap, he started up a shoutin’: - -“There is one! catch it! take holt of ’em Nance.” Oh, how I pitied my -pardner, for I knew’ he was on the back of a Nite-Mare (as it were) a -chasin’ flies; and then he’d kinder shy off one side of the bed, and I’d -hunch him, and he’d say there was a hull regiment of wimmen after him -with mops. - -But towards mornin’ I got a little good sleep, and so did he. - -The next mornin’ Mahala kinder atted me about my house; said she s’posed -it wasn’t half as nice, nor furnished near so well as hern. Her mean was -proud, and I could see she felt hauty with her nice things, though I -couldn’t see half on ’em when she led me through the rooms they was so -shet up and dark, dark as a dark pocket, a most; and the air was musty -and tight, tight as a drum; she said she didn’t air it only in the night -for fear of flies. - -Says she again, “I s’pose your house haint furnished near so nice as -mine.” - -Says I, “I have got two elegant things in my house that you haint got in -yourn, Mahala.” - -“What are they?” says she. - -Says I, “Sunshine and air;” says I, “our house haint a big one, but it -is comfortable and clean, and big enough to hold Josiah and me, and -comfort, and the childern.” Says I, “My parlor looks well, everybody -says it does. The carpet has got a green ground work that looks jest -like moss, with clusters of leaves all scattered over it, crimson and -gold colored and russet brown, that look for all the world as if they -might have fell offen the maple trees out in the yard in the fall of the -year. I have got a good honorable set of chairs; two or three rockin’ -chairs, and a settee covered with handsome copper-plate; lots of nice -pictures and books, for Thomas J. _will_ have ’em, and I am perfectly -willin’ and agreeable in that respect.” Says I, “Everybody says it is as -pleasant and cozy a room as they ever laid eyes on; and that room, -Mahala, is open every day to my companion Josiah, fresh air, sunshine, -myself and the childern;” says I, “when we have got our work done up and -want to rest, there is the place we go to rest in; it makes anybody feel -as chirk again as a poor dull lookin’ room; and what under the sun do I -want of a pleasant bright lookin’ room if it haint to take some comfort -with it?” - -Says she, with a horrified look, “the idee of lettin’ the sunshine in on -a nice carpet; it fades ’em, it fades green awfully.” - -Says I, “My carpet haint fadin’ colors, and if it was, there is more -where that come from. But,” says I, “there is other things that fade -besides carpets;” says I, “there is such a thing as fadin’ all the -greenness and brightness of life out;” says I, “I had ruther have my -carpet fade, than to have my childern’s fresh gayety, and my companion’s -happiness and comfort fade out as grey as a rat;” says I, “the only way -to git any comfort and happiness out of this old world, is to take it as -you travel on, day by day, and hour by hour.” - -Says I, “In my opinion it is awful simple to stent yourselves, and -scrimp yourselves along all your lives lookin’ for some future time, fur -ahead, when you are goin’ to enjoy things and live agreeable;” says I, -“if such folks don’t look out, the street of By and By they are -travellin’ on, will narrow down to that road that is only broad enough -for one to travel on it at a time, and the house they are expectin’ to -take so much comfort in, will have a marble door to it, and be covered -over with the grasses of the valley.” - -My tone was as solemn as solemn could be a most, but good land! she -didn’t sense it a mite; it seemed as if she follered us round with a mop -closer than ever, and the minute she got her work done up she went right -to her ruffles again; she didn’t take time to change her dress or comb -her hair or anything. Her dress was clean enough, but it was faded and -considerable ragged, and not a sign of a collar or cuff; and her hair, -which was wavy and crinkly naturally, and would have been glad to curl, -was tucked up tight in a little wad at the back side of her head, to -save work a combin’ it. I didn’t see much of Philander, for he stayed to -the barn the most of the time, though he seemed to have a desire to use -us well, and every little while he would come in and visit a few words -with us; but he acted awful uneasy, and low spirited, and meachin’, and -I was most glad every time when he’d git started for the barn, and she’d -set her mop down, for she’d scold him about flies and exhort him about -dust, and foller him round with a mop most every moment. She had in the -neighborhood of a bushel of ruffles a layin’ by her, and she said she -must stitch ’em, and pucker ’em all that day, and her face looked so -care-worn and haggard as she said it, that I almost pitted her; and I -says to her in tones about half pity, and half rebuke: - -“What makes you lay so to ruffles Mahala, it is a wearin’ on you and I -can see it is.” - -“Oh,” says she, and she nipped-to, harder than ever as she said it: “I -do it because other folks do. They wear ruffles a sight now.” - -But I says in calm tones: “Have you got to be a fool Mahala, because -_they_ be?” - -She didn’t answer me a word, only kep’ right on her ruffles as if they -was cases of life and death, and I continued on in reasonable axents. - -“I am considerable dressy myself, and in the name of principle I believe -it is every woman’s duty to look as well and agreeable as she can, -especially if she has got a companion to show off before.” - -As I said this, she give as scornful and humiliatin’ a look onto my -overskirt as I ever see looked. It was my new grey dress, all trimmed -off on the age of the overskirt with a plain piece cut ketrin’ ways of -the cloth, and stitched on. It looked well, but I see she despised it, -because it wasn’t ruffled; she showed it plain in her face, how -fearfully she felt above the biasin’ piece and me; she despised us both, -and acted so hauty towards us, that I was determined to give her a piece -of my mind, and says I again firmly: - -“I believe it is every woman’s duty especially if she has got a pardner, -to put her best foot forred and look pleasant and agreeable from day to -day, and from hour to hour. But in my mind a woman don’t add to her good -looks by settin’ down lookin’ like fury for nineteen days, a workin’ too -hard to speak a pleasant word to her family, or give ’em a pleasant -look, for the sake of flauntin’ out on the twentieth for a few hours, to -show off before a lot of folks she don’t care a cent for, nor they for -her.” Says I, “A middlin’ plain dress for instance, one made with a -plain strip set on the bias round the overskirt, or sunthin’ of that -sort,” says I, “such a dress with a bright healthy, happy face, looks -better to me than the height of fashion wore with a face that is almost -completely worn out with the work a makin’ of it, drawn down by care, -and crossness, and hard work into more puckers than there is on the -ruffles;” says I, “if a woman is able and willin’ to hire her clothes -made, that’s a different thing; in them cases let wimmen ruffle -themselves off to their heart’s content, and the more work the better -for the sewin’ wimmen.” - -I don’t think Mahala sensed my talk much of any, for she was nippin’-to, -sewin’ on her ruffles, and I heerd her say seeminly to herself: - -“Lemme see; nine yards for the bottom ruffle, and a little over. Three -times nine is twenty-seven, and that leaves fourteen yards of trimmin’ -for the poleynay, and up and down the back will be seventeen more—lemme -see!” And she was a measurin’ it off with her hands. Finally she seemed -to sense where she was for a minute, and turned to me with a still more -haggard look onto her face. - -Says she: “Mebby you have heerd about it; is it so, or not? I _must_ -know,” says she. - -Says I, in anxious axents, for she looked fearfully bad: “Is it your -childern’s future you are a worryin’ about? Is your companion’s morals a -totterin? Is the Human Race on your mind, a tirin’ you, Mahala?” - -“No!” says she. “It haint none of them triflin’ things, but I heerd a -rumor that they wasn’t a goin’ to wear poleynays trimmed up the back. Do -you know? Can you tell me what they are a goin’ to do?” - -Oh! what a wild gloomy glarin’ look settled down onto her face as she -asked me this question: - -“_They_” says I, a bustin’ right out almost wildly, “who is old _They_ -that is leadin’ my sect into chains and slavery?” Says I, almost by the -side of myself with emotion, “Bring him up to me, and lemme wrastle with -him, and destroy him.” Says I, “I hear of that old tyrant on all sides. -If he gives the word, wimmen will drop their dresses right down a yard -into the mud, or tack ’em up to their knees; they will puff ’em out like -baloons, or pin ’em back, a bandegin’ themselves like mummies; they will -wear their bunnets on the back of their necks leavin’ their faces all -out in the sun, or they will wear ’em over their forwards, makin’ ’em as -blind as a bat—leavin’ the backside of their heads all out to the -weather; they will wear low slips as thin as paper, or be mounted up on -high heels like a ostridge; they will frizzle their hair all up on top -of their heads like a rooster’s comb, or let it string down their backs -like a maniac’s; and if I ask ’em wildly why these things are so; they -say they do it because _They_ do it. I find old _They_ at the bottom of -it. - -“And where does all the slander, and gossip, and lies come from? You -find a lie that there wont anybody father, and jest as sure as you live -and breathe, every time, you can track it back to old _They_. _They_ -said it was so. And,” says I, growin’ almost wild again, “who ever see -him come up in a manly way and own up to anything? Who ever sot eyes on -him? A hidin’ himself, and a lyin’, is his strong pint. I _hate_ old -They! I perfectly _despise_ the old critter.” - -I see my emotions was a renderin’ me nearly wild for the time bein’, and -with a fearful effort, I collected myself together, some, and continued -on in a more milder tone, but awful earnest, and convincing: “Fashion is -king and _They_ is his prime minister and factorum; and between ’em -both, wimmen is bound hand and foot, body and soul. And,” says I in a -sort of a prophecyin’ tone, “would that some female Patrick Henry or -George Washington would rise up and set ’em free from them tyrants.” -Says I, “It would be a greater victory for female wimmen, than the one -the male sect, mostly, are a celebratin’ to the Sentinal this summer.” - -“Sentinal!” says she. “Celebrate!” she murmured in enquirin’ axents. - -“Yes,” says I, “haint you heerd on it Mahala—the big Sentinal that is to -Filadelfy;” says I, in considerable dry axents, “I didn’t know as there -was a dog on the American continent but what had heerd of it, and talked -it over—with other dogs.” Says I, “They talked about it to Jonesville -more’n they did the weather, or their neighbors, or anything.” - -“Well,” says she, “it seems as if I heerd the word once, when I was a -scrapin’ out the suller, or was it when I was a whitewashin’ the -wood-house. I can’t tell,” says she; “but anyway I know I was a cleanin’ -sunthin’ or other, or makin’ ruffles, and a workin’ so hard that it -slipped completely out of my mind.” - -I told her what the Sentinal was, and says I, “I want you to go Mahala. -Josiah and I are a goin’, and it will do you good to git away from home -a spell; you can git some good girl to keep house for you. S’posen you -go?” - -She looked at me as if she thought I was as crazy as a loon. - -“Go!” says she. “Go! why it will be right in fly time and spider time. -Do you s’pose that anybody that haint a perfect slouch of a housekeeper -would leave their house in fly time or spider web time? Thank fortin -nobody can find a spider web in my house nor my wood-house. I haint one -to let things go as _some_ will, and go off on pleasure towers right in -dog days.” - -I see she was a twittin’ me of lettin’ things go, and bein’ off on a -tower, and my high mission goared me, and principle nerved me up to give -her a piece of my mind; and says I to her: - -“There is cobwebs a hangin’ from your brain this minute Mahala Spicer, -more’n a yard long.” Says I, “You have chased me round with a mop, and -kinder limbered me up, so I feel like marchin’ forred nobly in the cause -of Right;—and I say to you, and I say it in a friendly way,—that if -there was _ever_ any brightness to your intellect, there is dust over it -now a inch thick. You twit me about lettin’ things go, and bein’ off on -a tower; you say _you_ wont let things go; in my way of thinkin’ you -_do_ let things go; you let all the beauty and brightness of life go; -all the peace and enjoyment and repose of home go; all your husband’s -and childern’s rest, and enjoyment, and love, and respect for you, go. -You say you don’t even git time to look into a book from one year’s end -to another. Think of that great world of delight and culture you leggo. -You say you don’t find time to step or look out of doors. Jest think of -God’s great picture-book that He spreads out before your blind eyes from -day to day—every page filled with wonder, surprise and admiration. Think -of how that book looks when the leaf is turned down to sunset, or when -it is turned over to bright Indian summer and etcetery.” My tone was -eloquent, very; and my hand waved out in noble waves as I went on: - -“Jest think how from day to day the sun’ rises in splendor and goes down -in heavenly glory; how the white clouds like feathered out chariots for -the baby angels to ride out in, float over the beautiful blue sky -unbeknown to you; how the winds kinder rustle the green leaves in the -woods, and the sun shoots down her gold arrers through ’em, a chasin’ -the cool shadders over the green moss, and never catchin’ of ’em. How -the white lilys fatigue their sweet selves a perfumin’ the air and the -roses and pinks blush crimson at their own prettiness, and the violets -hide their blue eyes down under the grass, so awful pretty that they are -fairly ashamed of themselves, and the ferns wave their green banners in -triumphant delight to let ’em know they have found ’em out. How the lake -changes to more’n forty pictures a day, every one handsomer than the -other, from the time it looks kinder blue, and hazy, and dreamy in the -mornin’ twilight, till the settin’ sun makes a shinin’ path on it, that -seems to lead right out into that city of golden streets. - -“Think what low and kinder contented songs the brook sings to the pussy -willow, and what the willows whisper back to the brook. How the birds -chirp and twitter and sail and sing, a well behaved melodious orkustre -givin’ free tickets to everybody; and your ears as deaf as a stun to it -all. Think of all these things you leggo to pore over ruffles and knife -pleatin’s. You _used_ to be a fine musician—made first-rate music—and -that melodious job, the only piece of work you can begin on earth and -finish up in heaven, all that happiness for yourself and family, you -leggo. If you was obleeged to do all this, I should pity you; and if you -was obleeged to wear yourself down to a early grave—as I see you are a -doin’,—leavin’ your childern plenty of ruffles and no mother, I should -pity you; but your husband is abundantly able, and more’n willin’ to -hire help for you to do your work decently and comfortably, and leave -you time to make your home a place of delight and rest to him and the -childern. But instead of that, instead of throwin’ open the doors of -your heart and your house to the free air of heaven, and the -sunshine;—instead of keepin’ your husband’s and childern’s love and -makin’ their happiness and hisen and your own life beautiful by culture, -and sweet thoughts, and generous deeds; instead of liftin’ your eyes -heavenward and seein’ with the eyes of your soul some divine ideal and -pursuin’ after it, you have set your aim in life on a fly and chase that -aim blindly, and prefer to go through life on all fours with a scrub -rag.” - -If you’ll believe it, that woman was mad; it does beat all how good -advice will make some folks squirm; but as we was on the very pint of -leavin’, I didn’t care a cent; and I didn’t feel in the least mite -beholden to her, for they come to our house when they was first married, -and stayed three weeks right along, and I guess they didn’t git treated -much as she treated Josiah and me. I done well by ’em—killed a hen most -every day—and made a fuss. That was before she took to chasin’ flies; -she was bright as a new dollar, didn’t act like the same critter, nor he -nuther; that was before he had the nip took out of him, by bein’ chased -round by a mop. - -I kissed the little childern all a settin still in a row—or little old -wimmen I ort to say, bid Mahala a glad and happy good bye, and then we -went out to the barn and took leave of Philander in the manger, and sot -forred again on our tower. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - - MELANKTON SPICER AND HIS FAMILY. - - -Philander Spicer told Josiah and me that he did wish we would stop and -visit his brother Lank, seein’ we had to pass right by his house. -Melankton Spicer, Philander’s twin brother, married Mahala’s sister -Delila Ann, makin’ ’em double and twisted relations, as you may say. And -we told him that seein’ it was right on our way we would stop a few -minutes, but I guessed we wouldn’t stay long for we wasn’t much -acquainted with ’em, though she had visited me years ago, and we had -seen ’em to Father Allen’s once or twice. - -Philander told us mebby we hadn’t better stay long, for they had hard -work to git along; he said Delila Ann wasn’t a mite such a turn as -Mahala, for whereas Mahala, havin’ a husband that was well off, would -work and scrub every minute with no need on it, Delila Ann, havin’ -married a poor man who needed help, wouldn’t work a mite; hadn’t been no -help to him at all sense they was married, only by puttin’ on -appearances, and havin’ seven girls and they bein’ growed up, and their -ma not allowin’ ’em to do a speck of work only to dress up to catch a -bo. Lank had to work from mornin’ till night in the store where he was a -clerk, and then set up half the night to copy papers for a lawyer, to -try to pay their milliner bills and the hired girls; but he couldn’t, he -was in debt to everybody. And he didn’t git no rest and peace to home, -for they was a teasin’ him the hull time for gold bracelets and silk -dresses and things; he said they lived poor, and their morals was all -run down. - -Lank hadn’t ever been able to git enough ahead to buy a Bible; he hadn’t -nothin’ but the Pokrafy, and a part of the Old Testament that had fell -to him from his grandfather, fell so fur that the ’postles and all the -old prophets—except Malachi—had got tore to pieces, and _he_ was -battered considerable. Philander said Lank told him it was hard work to -bring up a family right, with nothin’ but the Pokrafy to go by, and he -wanted to git a Bible the worst way; and when he got his last month’s -wages he _did_ mean to git enough ahead to buy one, and a sack of flour; -but when he got his pay, his wife said she was sufferin’ for a new gauze -head-dress, and the seven girls had _got_ to have some bobinet -neck-ties, and some new ear-rings; that after they had got these -necessarys, then, if there was anything left, they would git a sack of -flour and a Bible. But there wasn’t, and so they had to git along with -the Pokrafy, and without the sack of flour; and he said that workin’ so -hard, and farin’ so awful bad, Lank was a most used up; he said Lank -wasn’t more’n two or three moments older than he was, but he looked as -if he was seventy-five years old, and he was afraid he wouldn’t stand it -more than several months longer if things went on so. - -I said to myself, when Philander was tellin’ us this, here is mebby -another chance for me to burn myself up and brile myself on a gridiron -(as it were) in the cause of Right. I felt a feelin’ that mebby I could -win a victory, and advise Delila Ann for her good. And so I spoke up -mildly, but with a firm noble mean on me, and says to him: “Philander, -we will stop there an hour or two.” - -When we got to the village where Lank lived, Josiah said he guessed he -would go right down to the store where Lank worked and see him, and I -might go in and call on Delila Ann. A small white-headed boy with tow -breeches held up by one lonely gallus told me he would show me the -way—the same boy offerin’ to hitch the mare. - -[Illustration: “THAT DOOR WANTS MENDIN’ BAD.”] - -It had been a number of years sense I had seen Delila Ann, and I didn’t -s’pose I should know her if I should see her in my porridge dish, -Philander said she had changed so. He said she had that sort of anxious, -haggard, dissatisfied, kinder sheepish, and kinder bold look—a mean that -folks always git by puttin’ on appearances; I’ve heerd, and I believe, -_that_ is jest about as wearin’ a job as anybody can git into to foller -from year to year. There didn’t seem to be anything hull and sound about -the front door, except the key-hole; but it had a new brass plate on it, -with a bell kinder fixed in it, and the plate bore Lank’s name in bold -noble letters which I s’pose was a comfort to the family, and rose ’em -up above the small afflictions of the snow and rain that entered at -will, and when they was a mind to. - -The white headed boy, with the solitary and lonesome gallus, said to me -as he stood waitin’ for the five cent bill I was a gettin’ for him out -of my port-money: “That door needs mendin’ bad!” - -I give him his bill and started him off, and I was jest a musin’ on his -last words, and thinkin’ that Lank’s best way would be to take the -key-hole and have a new door made to it, when the hired girl come to the -door. I told her who I was and she seemed to be kinder flustrated and -said she’d go and tell the family. And I, a standin’ there in the hall, -and not knowin’ how long she would be gone, thought I would set down—for -it always tires me to stand any length of time on my feet. There was a -elegant imposin’ lookin’ chair by the side of a real noble lookin’ -table, but to my surprise and mortification when I went to set down, I -sot right down through it, the first thing; I catched almost wildly at -the massive table to try to save myself, and I’ll be hanged if that -didn’t give way and spilte on my hands, as you may say; it tottled and -fell right over onto me; and then I see it was made of rough shackly -boards, but upholstered with a gorgeous red and yeller cotton spread, -like the chair; they both looked splendid. I gathered myself up, and -righted the table murmurin’ to myself, “Put not your trust in princes, -nor turkey red calico, Josiah Allen’s wife; set not down upon them -blindly, lest you be wearied and faint in your mind, and lame in your -body.” - -[Illustration: APPARIENTLY STRONG.] - -I was jest a rehearsin’ this to myself, when the hired girl come back, -and says I: - -“I am glad you have come, for I don’t know but I should have brought the -hull house down in ruins onto me, if you hadn’t come jest as you did.” - -“And then she up and told me that that chair and table wasn’t made for -use, but jest for looks; she said they wanted a table and a reception -chair in the hall, and not bein’ able to buy sound ones, they had made -’em out of boards they had by ’em.” - -“Well,” says I mildly, “I went right down through the chair the first -thing, and it skairt me.” - -I got along through the hall first-rate after this, only I most fell -twice, for the floor bein’ carpeted with wall paper varnished (to be -oil-cloth appariently) and tore up, and the varnish makin’ it stiff, it -was as bad as a man-trap to catch folks in, and throw ’em. - -Jest before we got to the parlor door I see, that in the agitation of -body and mind I had experienced sense I come in, I had dropped one of my -cuff buttons, nice black ones that I had bought jest before I started at -a outlay of 35 cents, and the hired girl said she would go back for it; -and while she was a lookin’ for it—the plasterin’ bein’ off -considerable, and the partition jest papered over—I heard ’em a sayin’ -and they seemed to be a cryin’ as they said it: - -“What did she want to come here for? I should think she would know -enough to stay away.” - -“To think we have got to be tormented by seein’ her,” says another -voice. - -“I hate to have her come as bad as you do children,” says a voice I knew -was Delila Ann’s; “but we must try to bear up under it; she wont stay -probable more’n two or three hours.” - -“I thay, I hope she wont sthay two minith,” says another voice with a -lisp to it. - -“We wont let her stay,” says a little fine voice. - -I declare for’t, if it hadn’t been for my vow I would have turned right -round in my tracks; but I remembered it wasn’t the pious folks that -needed the most preachin’, and if ever promiscous advisin’ seemed to be -called for, it was now. And jest as I was a rememberin’ this, the hired -girl come back with my cuff button. - -The minute she opened that parlor door, I see that I had got into the -house of mournin’. The room, which resembled the hall and the front door -as much as if they was three twins, seemed to be full of braize delaine, -and bobinet lace, and thin ribbin, all bathed in tears and sobs. When I -took a closer look, I see there was eight wimmen under the gauzes and -frizzles and folderols and etcetery; some of ’em held dime novels in -their hands, and one of ’em held a white pup. - -The moment I went in, every one of ’em jumped up and kissed me, and -throwed their arms round me. Some of the time I had as many as six or -seven arms at a time round me in different places, and every one of ’em -was a tellin’ me in awful warm tones, how glad, how highly tickled they -was to see me; they never was so carried away with enjoyment and happy -surprise in their hull lives before; and says four of ’em tenderly: - -“You must stay a week with us anyway.” - -“A week!” says the little fine voice, “that haint nuthin’, you must stay -a month, we wont let you off a day sooner.” - -“No, we wont!” says six warm voices, awful warm. - -[Illustration: APPARIENTLY WELCOME.] - -“Sthay all thummer—do,” says the lispin’ voice. - -“Yes do!” says the hull seven. - -And then Delila Ann threw both her arms round my neck, and says she: - -“Oh if you could only stay with us always, how happy, happy we should -be.” And then she laid her head right down on my shoulder and begun to -sob, and weep, and cry; I was almost sickened to the stomach by their -actin’ and behavin’, but the voice of sorrow always appeals to my heart. -I see in a minute what the matter was; Lank had give out, had killed -himself with hard work; and though I knew she was jest as much to blame -as if she was made of arsenic and Lank had swallered her, still pity and -sympathy makes the handsomest, shineyest kind of varnish to cover up -folks’es faults with, and Delila Ann shone with it from head to foot, as -she lay there on my neck, wettin’ my best collar with her tears, and -almost tearin’ the lace offen it with her deep windy sithes. I pitied -Delila Ann, from pretty near the bottom of my heart; I forgot for the -time bein’ her actin’ and behavin’; I felt bad, and says I: - -“Then he is gone Delila Ann, I feel to sympathize with you; I am sorry -for you as I can be.” - -“Yes,” says she, pretty near choked up with emotion, “he is gone; we -have lost him.” - -I wept; I thought of my Josiah, and I says in tremblin’ tones: “When -love is lost out of a heart that has held it, oh, what a goneness there -must be in that heart; what a emptyness; what a lonesomeness; but,” says -I, tryin’ to comfort her, “He who made our hearts knows all about ’em; -His love can fill all the deep lonesome places in ’em; and hearts that -He dwells in wont never break; He keeps ’em, and they are safe with an -eternal safety.” - -All the hull of the girls was a sobbin’, and one of ’em sithed out: “Oh, -it does seem as if our hearts must break, right in to.” - -Then I spoke up and says in tremblin’ tones: “If you are willin’ Delila -Ann, it would be a melancholly satisfaction to me to see the corpse.” - -[Illustration: THE HOUSE OF MOURNIN’.] - -The girls led the way a sobbin’ and sithin’, and I follered on kinder -holdin’ up Delila Ann, expectin’ every minute she would faint away on my -hands. We was a mournful lookin’ procession; they led the way into the -next room, and led me up to a sofy, and there laid out on a gorgeous -yeller cotton cushin, lay a dead pup; I was too dumbfoundered to speak -for nearly half a moment. - -Oh! what feelin’s I felt as I stood there a lookin’ on ’em, to think how -I had been a sympathizin’ and a comfortin’, a pumpin’ the very depths of -my soul to pour religious consolation onto ’em, and bewailin’ myself, a -sheddin’ my own tears over a whiffet pup. As I thought this over, my -dumbfounder begun to go off on me, and my mean begun to look different, -and awfuler; I thrust my cotton handkerchief back into my pocket again -with my right hand, and drew my left arm hautily from Delila Ann, not -carin’ whether she crumpled down and fainted away or not; I s’pose my -mean apauled ’em, for Delila Ann says to me in tremblin’ tones: - -“All genteel wimmen dote on dogs.” And she added in still more tremblin’ -tones, as she see my mean kep’ a growin’ awfuler, and awfuler every -minute: “Nothin’ gives a woman such a genteel air as to lead ’em round -with a ribbin.” And she says still a keepin’ her eye on my mean: “I -always know a woman is genteel the minute I see her a leadin’ ’em round, -and I never have been mistakin’ once; the more genteel a woman is, the -more poodle dogs she has to dote on.” - -I didn’t say a word to Delila Ann nor the hull set on ’em, but my -emotions riz up so that I spoke right out loud, unbeknown to me; I -episoded to myself in a deep voice: - -[Illustration: GENTILITY.] - -“Fathers bein’ killed with labor, and a world layin’ in wickedness, and -wimmen dotin’ on dogs; hundreds of thousands of houseless and homeless -childern—little fair souls bein’ blackened by ignorance and vice with a -black that can’t never be rubbed off this side of heaven, and immortal -wimmen spendin’ their hull energies in keepin’ a pup’s hair white; -little tender feet bein’ led down into the mire and clay, that might be -guided up to heaven’s door, and wimmen utterly refusin’ to notice ’em, -so rampant and sot on leadin’ round a pup by a string. Good heavens!” -says I, “it makes me sweat to think on it;” and I pulled out my cotton -handkerchief and wiped my forred almost wildly. I s’pose my warm -emotions had melted down my icy mean a very little, for Delila Ann spoke -up in a little chirker voice, and says she: - -“If you was one of the genteel kind, you would feel different about it;” -says she—a tryin’ to scare me—“I mistrust that you haint genteel.” - -“That don’t scare me a mite,” says I, “I _hate_ that word and always -did,” says I still more warmly, “there is two words in the English -language that I feel cold, and almost hauty towards, and they are -‘affinity,’ such as married folks hunt after, and ‘genteel.’ I wish,” -says I, “that these two words would join hands and elope the country; -I’d love to see their backs, as they sot out, and bid ’em a glad -farewell.” She see she hadn’t skairt me, and the thought of my mission -goared me to that extent, that I rose up my voice to a high key and went -on wavin’ my right hand in as eloquent a wave as I had by me—I keep -awful eloquent waves a purpose to use on occasions like these—and says -I: - -“I am a woman that has got a vow on me; I am a Promiscous Advisor by -trade, and I can’t shirk out when duty is a pokin’ me in the side; I -must speak. And I say unto you Delila Ann, and the hull on you -promiscous, that if you would take off some of your bobinet lace, empty -your laps of pups and dime novels, and go to work and lift some of the -burdens from the breakin’ back of Melankton Spicer, you would raise -yourselves in my estimation from 25 to 30 cents, and I don’t know but -more.” - -“Oh,” says Delila Ann, “I want my girls to marry; and it haint genteel -for wimmen to work; they wont _never_ catch a bo if they work.” - -“Well,” says I almost coldly, “I had ruther keep a clear conscience and -a single bedstead, than twenty husbands and the knowledge that I was a -father killer; but,” says I in reasonable tones—for I wanted to convince -’em—“it haint necessary to be lazy, to read dime novels, and lead round -pups, in order to marry; if it was, I should be a single woman to-day.” - -“Oh I love to read dime novelth,” says the lispin’ one; “I love to be -thad and weep, it theemth tho thweet, tho thingularly thweet.” - -Says I, “There is a tragedy bein’ lived before your eyes day after day -that you ort to weep over; a father killin’ himself for his wife and -childern—bearin’ burdens enough to break down a leather man—and they a -spendin’ their time a leadin’ round whiffet pups.” - -“Whiffet pups!” says Delila in angry tones, “they are poodles.” - -“Well,” says I calmly, “whiffet poodle pups, if that suits you any -better, it don’t make any particular difference to me.” - -Says Delila Ann, “I paid seven dollars a piece for ’em, and they have -paid their way in comfortin’ the girls when they feel bad; of course my -girls have their dark hours and git low-spirited when they teaze their -pa for things that he wont buy for ’em; when they want a gold butterfly -to wear in their hair, are sufferin’ for it or for other necessaries, -and their pa wont git ’em for ’em; in such dark hours the companionship -of these dear dogs are such a comfort to ’em.” - -“Why don’t they go to work and earn their own butterflies if they have -got to have ’em?” says I. - -“Because they wont never marry if they demean themselves and work.” - -Says I, “It haint no such thing! A man whose love is worth havin’ would -think the more of ’em;” and I went on eloquently—“do you s’pose Delila, -that the love of a _true man_,—a love that crowns a woman more royally -than a queen, a love that satisfies her head and her heart and that she -can trust herself to through life and death; a love that inspires her to -think all goodness and purity are possible to her for its sake,—that -makes her, through very happiness, more humble and tender and yet -fearless, liftin’ her above all low aims and worryments; do you s’pose -this love that makes a woman as rich as a Jew if she owns nothin’ on -earth beside, can be inspired and awakened by a contemplation of sham -gentility and whiffet pups? Can bobinet lace spangled with gilt -butterflies weave a net to catch this priceless treasure? Never! Delila -Ann Spicer, never! that is,—a love that is worth havin’; some men’s love -haint worth nothin’; I wouldn’t give a cent a bushel for it by the -car-load.” - -But, as I said, “Delila Ann and the hull eight on you promiscous, a -earnest, true, noble man would think as much again of a girl who had -independence and common sense enough to earn her own livin’ when her -father was a poor man. Good land! how simple it is to try to deceive -folks; gauze veils, and cotton-velvet cloaks haint a goin’ to cover up -the fact of poverty; if we be poor there’s not a mite of disgrace in it. -Poverty is the dark mine where diamonds are found lots of times by their -glitterin’ so ag’inst the blackness. The darkness of poverty can’t put -out the light of a pure diamond; it will shine anywhere, as bright in -the dark dirt as on a queen’s finger, for its light comes from within; -and rare pearls are formed frequent by the grindin’ touch of poverty, -tears of pain and privation and patience crystalized into great drops of -light that will shine forever. Honest hard workin’ poverty is -respectable as anything can be respectable and should be honored, if for -no other reason, for the sake of Him who eighteen hundred years ago made -it illustrious forever. But poverty hidin’ itself behind the -appariently; poverty hidin’ itself under a sham gentility; pretentious, -deceitful poverty—tryin’ to cover a empty stomach with a tinsel -breast-pin—is a sight, and enough to make angels weep, and sinners sick. -Let your girls learn some honest trade Delila Ann, let ’em be -self-respectin’, industrious—” - -“Oh my! I wouldn’t have ’em miss of bein’ married for nothin’ in the -world.” - -“Good land!” says I. “Is marryin’ the only theme that anybody can lay -holt of? It seems to me that the best way would be to lay holt of duty -now, and then if a bo comes lay holt of him. But if they catch a bo with -such a hook as they are a fishin’ with now, what kind of a bo will it -be? Nobody but a fool would lay holt of a hook baited with dime novels, -lazyness, deceitfulness, and pups. Learn your girls to be industrious -and to respect themselves. They can’t now, Delila Ann, I _know_ they -can’t. No woman can feel honorable and reverential towards themselves, -when they are a foldin’ their useless hands over their empty souls, -waitin’ for some man—no matter who—to marry ’em and support ’em. When in -the agony of suspense and fear they have narrowed down to this one theme -all their hopes and prayers: “Good Lord, anybody!” But when a woman lays -holt of life in a noble earnest way, when she is dutiful, cheerful, and -industrious, God-fearin’ and self-respectin’, though the world sinks, -there is a rock under her feet that wont let her down fur enough to hurt -her any.” - -“Oh dear;” says Delila Ann again, “I should think she would want to get -married—want to awfully.” Truly everybody has their theme, and marryin’ -is hern. But I kep’ cool and says I in calm axents, but sort o’ noble -and considerable eloquent: - -“If love comes to board with her, so much the better; she will be ready -to receive him royally, and keep him when she gets him—some folks don’t -know how to use love worth a cent, can’t keep him any length of time. -Such a woman wont git crazy as a loon, and wild-eyed, and accept the -wrong man—so dead with fear that the right one wont be forth comin’. She -wont barter her truth and self respect for a home and housen stuff, and -the sham dignity of a false marriage. No mom, or moms; though a regiment -of men are at her feet a askin’ her in pleadin’ axents if their bride -she will be, her ears will be deaf as a stun to the hull caboodle of -’em, unless the true voice speaks to her; and she wont listen with the -ear of flesh, she wont hear it unless her soul can listen. Mebby that -voice, that _true_ voice is soundin’ to her heart through the centuries; -mebby, like as not, she was born a century too soon, or a hundred years -too late—what of it? That don’t scare her a mite, she will keep right on -a livin’ jest as calm and collected and happy and contented as anything, -till the eternal meetin’ of true souls crowns him and her with the -greatness of that love. No, Delila Ann Spicer, such a woman as that, no -matter whether she be single or double, I am not afraid of her future.” - -“What! not get married! Oh dear me suz,” screamed Delila Ann, for truly -the thought seemed to scare her nearly to death. “Oh how awful, how -lonely, lonely, they must be.” - -“Who said they wasn’t?” says I in pretty middlin’ short tones—for she -was a beginnin’ to wear me out some—but I continued on in more mild -axents: - -“I have seen married folks before now, that I _knew_ was in their souls -as lonesome as dogs and lonesomer,” says I, “a disagreeabler feelin’ I -never felt, than to have company that haint company, stay right by you -for two or three days. And then what must it be to have ’em stand by you -from forty to fifty years. Good land! it would tucker anybody out. A -desert haint to be compared to a crowd of strangers; woods can’t be -compared to human bein’s for loneliness, for Nater is a friendly -critter, and to them that love her, she has a hundred ways to chirk ’em -up and comfort ’em. And solitude is sacred, when the world’s babble dies -away, you hush your soul, and hear the footfalls of the Eternal. Hear -His voice speakin’ to your heart in better thoughts, purer aspirations, -nobler idees. No! for pure loneliness give me the presence of an alien -soul, whose thoughts can never be your thoughts, whose eyes can no more -see what your eyes see than if they wore leather spectacles, whose -presence weighs you down like four Nite Mairs and a half. And if for any -reason, fear, thoughtlessness, or wantin’ a home, you are married to -such a one, there is a loneliness for you Delila Ann Spicer.” But she -kep’ right on, with her former idees, for she felt ’em deeply. - -“Oh Dear! I don’t see how folks git along that haint married. Nothin’ in -the world looks so poverty-struck, and lonesome as a woman that haint -married.” - -“Yes,” says I reasonably, “they _do_ have a sort of a one sided look -I’ll admit, and sort o’ curious, at certain times, such as processions, -and etcetery; I always said so, and I say so still. But,” says I, “in my -opinion, there haint no lonesomeness to be compared to the lonesomeness -of the empty-headed and aimless, and no amount of husbands can make up -to any woman for the loss of her self-respect. Them is my idees, -howsumever everybody to their own mind.” - -Whether I did ’em any good or not I don’t know, for my companion arrived -jest that moment, and we departed onto our tower; but it is a sweet and -comfortin’ thought, that whether you hit the mark you aim at or not, you -have done your best and a good pile of arrers somewhere will bear -witness that you have took aim, and fired nobly in the cause of Right. - -[Illustration] - -[Illustration] - - - - - UNCLE ZEBULIN COFFIN - - -Ever sense I had married to Josiah Allen, I had heerd of Uncle Zebulin -Coffin, what a good man he was. Every time Josiah would git low spirited -and kinder back slid in his mind, he would groan out, “Oh, if I could -only be as good as Uncle Zebulin is!” - -And when he would be in this deprested state, if he and I would laugh -out kinder hearty at sunthin’ the childern said or done, he would -mutter: - -“Oh Samantha, what would Uncle Zebulin say if he should hear us laugh! I -don’t believe we shall ever get to be so good as he is in this world.” - -“What has he done so awful good?” I would say. - -“Why,” says Josiah, “Uncle Zebulin haint laughed in over forty years. -You don’t have no idee what a good man he is.” - -“That don’t raise him 7 cents in my estimation,” says I. “What else has -he done so uncommon good?” - -“Oh,” says Josiah. “I don’t know of anything in particular. But you -never see so good a man as he is. He’s made a regular pattern of -himself. He never smiles, and he would sooner cut off anybody’s head -than to joke with ’em; and he is so quick to see if anybody else does -wrong. He’ll make anybody feel so wicked, when they are with him; -they’ll see so plain how much better he is than they be. He is so -uncommon good, that I never could bear to stay there; I realized his -goodness so much, and see my own wickedness so plain. A dretful good -man, Uncle Zebulin is, dretful.” - -I knew when we sot out for the Sentinal that we should go within a few -miles of him; we had got to go right through Loon Town, where his -letters was sent to. (Josiah had helped him to money to pay up a -mortgage, and they had wrote back and forth about it.) I beset Josiah to -stop and visit him, not that I had such a awful high opinion of him, but -I wanted to go more out of curiosity, a sort of a circus feelin’; but -Josiah hung back, and I says to him: - -“Anybody would think Josiah Allen, that after praisin’ up a Uncle -Zebulin day and night for goin’ on twenty years, a man would be willin’ -to let his lawful pardner git a glimpse on him;” but Josiah hung back, -and says he: - -“He is so tarnal good, Samantha, you haint no idee how powerful -uncomfortable and unsatisfactory he makes wickeder folks feel.” But I -says cheerfully: - -“If he is so dretful good as you say, he wont be likely to hurt us, and -I don’t go for comfort, I go in a sort of a menagery way; and also,” I -added with dignity, “as a P. A. and a P. I.” - -“Well,” he kinder whimpered out, “mebby it is all for the best. We’ll go -if you are so sot on it, but there don’t seem to be no need of our -stayin’ any length of time.” - -“Well,” says I, “we’ll see, when we git there.” - -But after we got started off on our tower, and as we drew near Loon -Town, (thirteen miles from Melankton Spicer’ses) and I spoke to Josiah -about our visit to Uncle Zebulin, he made as strange of it, as if he -never had heerd of the idee; said he never had borrowed any trouble -about it, never had had an idee of goin’ nigh him. - -“Then what made you say so,” says I. - -“Say so!” says he in a wanderin’, unbelievin’ tone, “I haint said so,” -says he, “you must have dremp it.” - -I argued with him for quite a spell, but he stuck to it; said he didn’t -blame me any for sayin’ it, for I had most probable dremp it. - -It madded me so to hear him go on, that I wouldn’t multiply no more -words with him, and I should probable never have sot eyes on Zebulin -Coffin, if it hadn’t been for a axident that took place jest as we was a -enterin’ Loon Town. - -I thought there had been sunthin’ kinder loose and shackly about the -buggy for some time, and so I says to Josiah: - -“There seems to be sunthin’ wrong about the buggy Josiah Allen, I -believe the whiffletrys are loose.” - -“The whiffletrys are all right. You are notional Samantha—wimmen always -be, not havin’ such strong firm minds as we men have they git the hypo.” - -Says I, almost coldly, “After you throw us out, and kill both on us, -mebby you wont twit me of havin’ the hypo.” - -“I haint never killed you yet, Samantha,” says he, “and you have been a -lookin’ out for it for the last twenty years.” - -[Illustration: CHEATED.] - -But that man hadn’t hardly got the words out of his mouth, when all of a -sudden jest what I had been bewarin’ him of happened; sunthin’ _did_ -break down; he said it was the ex. But everything seemed to give way all -of a sudden under us; I was skairt, very. The old mare bein’ a orniment -to her sect stopped stun still, so there wasn’t no killed nor wounded to -repent on, but the top buggy had got to go to the wagon shop to be -repaired upon. Josiah acted mad; says he: - -“That darned man cheated me on that buggy, I’ll bet a cent. We’d done -better to have bought a phantom; I told you so Samantha in the first -on’t.” - -Knowin’ it was the nater born in every man to want to blame somebody or -sunthin’ in a time like this, and knowin’ if anything could be a comfort -to my companion _that_ would, I didn’t feel like arguin’ with him a mite -about our buyin’ or not buyin’ a phantom to ride. I was sorry for him, -but feelin’ I had a vow onto me, and knowin’ it was my duty to lock arms -(as it were) with my companion, and lead him gently back if I see him a -strayin’ off into the wrong, I says to him in a kind of a roundabout -way, but mildly and firmly: - -“When companions was falsely told they had dremp things, mebby judgments -was sometimes sent onto Josiahs.” - -I had hinted this in a dretful blind way, but he took it in a minute, -and snapped out enough to take my head off. - -“Well, well! I s’pose we can go to Uncle Zeb’s, if you are so sot on it, -while this is bein’ mended;” and he added with a gloomy face: “I guess -you’ll have the worst on’t, when you see how good he is.” - -I felt glad to go, for I had a curious feelin’ that I was needed there -as a Promiscous Advisor; as if I had a job there to tackle in the cause -of Right. The blacksmith sent a boy for a man that did such jobs, and in -a few minutes time we was on our way to Uncle Zebulin Coffin’ses. It was -a good lookin’ iron grey man, about the age of Josiah who was a carryin -us. He had a nice span of horses, and we rode in a respectable democrat -with two seats. Josiah sot on the front seat with the driver, and the -satchel and umberell and I sot on the back seat. After we had got -started, the man spoke up and says he: - -“You are a goin’ over to Deacon Coffin’ses?” - -“Yes,” says Josiah. - -His face grew sad, and he shook his head in a mournful way. - -“A dretful good man the Deacon is.” - -Says I, “Sunthin’ in the line of Paradise Lost, or the Course of Time; -sunthin’ like Milton or Pollock, haint he?” - -Says he “I haint acquainted with the gentlemen you speak of.” - -He looked so kinder sharp and curious at me, that I spoke up again, and -says I: - -“I have got the idee from what I have heerd, that he is sunthin’ like -them books I spoke of. Everybody knows they are hefty and respectable, -but somehow they don’t take so much comfort a perusin’ ’em as they do in -admirin’ ’em at a distance—bein’ wrote in blank verse, they make folks -feel sort o’ blank.” - -The man didn’t answer me but put on a still more melancholly and -deprested look, and says he: - -“He haint smiled in more’n thirty years, and haint snickered in goin’ on -fifty. It’s curious, how anybody can be so good haint it? You see, I -carry passengers back and forth, and the Deacon rode with me about a -year ago, and he labored with me powerful about my son Tom, Tom Pitkins! -my name is Elam Pitkins.” - -He was a settin’ on the same seat with Josiah, and they had been a -visitin’ together like old friends. But Josiah turned right round and -shook hands with him, and say he: “How do you do Mr. Pitkins, happy to -make your acquaintance, sir.” - -And then he took his hat off, and held it in his lap for a few moments; -then he put it on his head again. I was almost proud of that man at that -minute, to see how well he knew what belonged to good manners; (I had -took him in hand, and tutored him a sight, before we sot out on our -tower,) and bein’ Josiah’s teacher in politeness, I wasn’t a goin’ to be -out done by him; so I riz right up, and made a low curchy and shook -hands with him. The democrat jolted jest then, and I come down pretty -sudden, and bein’ a hefty woman I struck hard—but I didn’t begreech my -trouble. True politeness is dear to me; true courtesy is a near relation -to principle, as near as 2nd cousin. - -This little episode over, and polite manners attended to, Elam Pitkins -continued on: - -“As I say, the Deacon give it to me strong about my son Tom—he made me -feel wicked as a dog—said I’d be the ruination of him. You see the way -on’t was, Loon Town is a great place for politics; lots of congressmen -make it their home here summers, and so it is run down in its -morals—lots of drinkin’ saloons, and other places of licenced ruination, -and billiard-rooms, and so 4th—and Tom bein a bright, wide-awake lad, -got kinder unstiddy for a spell. You know boys at that age take to fun -and amusement as naterally as a duck takes to water; its nater, jest as -much as the sun is nater or the moon, and can’t be helped any more than -they can. Well, his ma and I talked it over; I was a great case to read -nights—solid books, such as Patent Office Reports and the Dictionary -bein’ my holt—and she was great on mendin’—socks bein’ her theme and -stiddy practice. But Tom was a gettin’ unstiddy; and we talked it over -and come to the conclusion that these occupations of ourn, though they -was as virtuous as two young sheep’s, still they wasn’t very highlarious -and happyfyin’ to a boy like Tom. And what do you s’pose we did—his ma -and I? Well sir, if you’ll believe it, we learnt to play dominoes, that -woman and I did and both on us a goin’ on fifty. You ort to seen us -handle them dominoes at first! We’d never either on us touched one -before, but we kep’ at it, a studyin’ deep, till we could play a good -hand; and if I had give Tom a 50 dollar bill, he wouldn’t have been half -so tickled as he was when his ma and I sot down to play dominoes with -him for the first time. - -[Illustration: COMPETING WITH THE BAR-ROOM.] - -“And then if you’ll believe it, his ma and I tackled the checker board -next, and mastered that; Tom beats us most every time, and I am glad on -it, and his ma is too. Then I got a box of authors; it don’t take near -so much mind to play that as it does dominoes, most anybody can learn -that, and it is a beautiful game—Thackuary and Dickens and all on ’em -painted out as plain as day on ’em—and we bought lots of interestin’ -books wrote by these very men that we got acquainted with in this way. -And before winter was out, I got a set of parlor crokay; and when the -bar-room winders was all lit up, seeminly a beconin’ Tom and others like -him to come and be ruined, we lit up our sittin’-room winders brighter -still, and bein’ considerable forehanded, and thinkin’ it is cheaper -than to pay whisky bills, and gamblin’ debts, and worse—we lay out—Tom’s -ma and I do—to have fruit, and nuts, and pop-corn, and lemonade and so -4th every evening; and Tom’s mates are made welcome, when they come. Why -good land! You can’t git Tom away from home now hardly enough to be -neighborly. We have kep’ up such doin’s year after year, and Tom is -goin’ on twenty-two; and between you and me—you are related to Deacon -Coffin’ses folks, you say?” - -“Yes,” says Josiah and I. - -“Well, you look so sort o’ friendly, and you’d be apt to hear of it any -way, so I’ll tell you; Tom got sweet on the Deacon’s Molly; perfectly -smit by her, and before they knew it, as you may say, they was engaged. -Nater, you know, jest as nateral as the sun is, or the moon, or -anything; but when Tom told us about it, and we had always been so kind -of familiar with him, sort o’ mated with him, that it come nateral in -him to confide in us—he thinks a sight on us Tom does—I told him to be -honorable and manly, and tackle the old Deacon about it. Tom is brave as -a lion—he wouldn’t hang back a inch from bears or tigers or crockydiles -or anything of the kind—but when I mentioned the idee of his tacklin’ -the old Deacon, I’ll be hanged if Tom didn’t flinch, and hang back.” Says -he: - -“I hate to; I hate to go near him, he is such a good man;” says he, “he -makes me feel as if I could crawl through a knot hole, as if I wanted -to.” - -But my advice to Tom was from day to day, “tackle the old Deacon.” - -And finally Tom tackled him; and the old Deacon was madder than a hen. - -“A _pious_ hen,” says I coldly, for I was a beginnin’ to not bear the -old Deacon. - -“Yes,” says he, “bein’ so darned good, he said Molly shouldn’t marry any -feller that laughed and played dominoes and danced—and Tom had danced -once or twice to one of our neighbors, and the old Deacon had heerd of -it—so he turned Tom out doors, and forbid Molly’s speakin’ to him again; -Molly, they say, took it bad, and it come powerful hard on Tom. He is a -soft hearted feller Tom is, and he fairly worshipped her; but his ma and -I brought him up to meet trials bravely, and it is a pattern to anybody -to see how brave, and calm, and patient he is, with his trouble makin’ -him as poor as a snail. Stiddy to work as a clock, cheerful, and growin’ -poor all the time; awful good to babys, and childern Tom is, sense it -took place, and growin’ pale, and poor as a rat. I tell you it comes -pretty tough on his ma and me to see it go on; but Tom wont be -underhanded, and he’ll have to grin and bear it, for the Deacon says he -never changes his mind, and he is so tarnal good I s’pose he can’t. - -“He talked powerful to me the day he rode with me; I don’t know when I -ever felt wickeder and meaner than I did then; I can truly say that when -the old Deacon got out of the buggy, and for several hours after that, I -could have been bought cheap—probable from 25 to 30 cents—he give it to -me so for lettin’ Tom play games, and playin’ with him myself. He said I -was doin’ the devil’s work; a immortal soul left to my charge, and I a -fillin’ it up with dominoes and checkers. - -“‘But,’ says I, ‘Tom got to runnin’ to the tarven; he got into bad -company; I did it to stop him; factorum Deacon, honor bright.’ - -“And then the Deacon give it to me for swearin’; he was so good, he -thought honor bright and factorum was swearin’, and says he: - -“‘S’posen Tom _did_ git to runnin’ to the tarven and other places of -ruination; _then_ was the time for you to do your duty. Preach his -wickedness to him; keep at it every time he come into the house day and -night, down suller, and up stairs, to the table and the altar. I s’posed -you was a prayin’ man, and prayed in your family.’ - -“‘I haint missed a night nor mornin’ sense I joined the meetin’-house,’ -says I. - -“‘Well, what a weapon that family altar might be, if you handled it -right, to pierce Tom to the heart; to show him how gloomy his sins made -you; to make him see _your_ goodness, and _his_ sinfulness; to make a -pattern of yourself before him; and then evenin’s you ort to be stern -and gloomy, and awful dignified, and spend ’em, every one of ’em, in -readin’ religious tracts to him; warnin’s to sinners, and the perils of -the ungodly. I would lend you half a bushel that I have used in bringin’ -up my own family; and if you took this course, what a happyfyin’ thought -it would be, that, whatever course he took, whether he went to ruin or -not, you had done _your_ duty, set him a pattern of righteousness, and -his wickedness couldn’t be laid to _your_ charge; and you could have a -clear conscience, and be happy, even if you looked down from the shinin’ -shore, and see him a wreathin’ in torment.’ - -“‘But,’ says I, ‘what if my preachin’ his wickedness into him, and -readin’ tracts at him had the effect of makin’ him hate religion, and -drivin’ him away from home to the tarven and wickedness? After Tom was -ruined, my makin’ a pattern of myself, and feelin’ innocent, wouldn’t -bring Tom back. And,’ says I, ‘if I kep’ Tom from goin’ to ruin, by -keepin’ him to home, and playin’ dominoes with him—and didn’t feel -innocent—lemme see—where be I—’” - -“And I scratched my head till every hair stood up on end, I was so -puzzled, and kinder worked up, a thinkin’ how I would go to work to be -innocent in the matter, and whether after I had lost Tom, my bein’ a -pattern would be much of a comfort to me or his ma; but though I -scratched my head powerful, I couldn’t scratch a clear idee of the -matter out of it. But I tell you, the Deacon made me feel small, so -small that when I got home, I was most tempted to go in through the -key-hole; and mean—I knew I was the meanest man in North America, I -could have took my oath on it with a clear conscience. - -“But Tom’s ma felt different about it when I talked it over with her; -and she went on and give _her_ views on bringin’ up childern and -religion, and things, for about the first time I ever heerd her in my -life—she bein’ one of the kind that believes in doin’ more and sayin’ -less; though, if there is anybody livin’ that can beat her in piety, I’d -love to see ’em. As I say, I never see her talk so earnest and sort of -inspired like, as she did then; it went to my heart so, took me so -‘right where I lived’—as the poet says—and I have thought it over so -many times sense, that I can remember every word on it, though there was -powerful long words in it. But good land! long words haint nothin’ for -Tom’s ma to handle; she’s dretful high learnt, teached a deestrick -school for years; I never shall forget how she looked when she was a -talkin’ it to me; how her eyes shone; she has got big brown eyes jest -like Tom’s, and they sort o’ lit up, jest as if there was a kerosine -lamp a burnin’ inside of her face, or several candles; she talked -powerful. She said she didn’t think we need feel condemned; says she: - -“‘We have always taught our boy to love God, and taught him that He was -the one reality in an unreal world.’ Says she, ‘I have tried from his -childhood to make Him who is invisible, a real presence to him, not an -abstract idee; taught him that unseen things were more real than the -seen; that love—even his mother’s love for him, which was as intangible -as a breath of air—yet was still so much more imperishable than the form -that enshrined it—stronger than life or death—was but a faint symbol of -that greater love that so far transcended mine. That this love was the -one rock of safety standin’ for evermore the same amid the ebb and flow -of this changeful earthly life; and that safe in that love he could not -by any possibility be harmed by life or death or any other creature; and -if he was lost, it would not be because God desired it;’ says she, ‘I -could not teach our boy to love God with a slave’s love for a tyrant, -made up of fear and doubt; to think of Him as a far-off unapproachable -bein’, in a remote inaccessible heaven; lookin’ down from a height of -gloomy grandeur with a stern composure, a calm indifference, on the -strugglin’ souls below, he had created; indifferent to their sufferin’s, -their gropin’s after light and truth, their temptations, their blind -mistakes; ready and anxious to condemn; angry with their innocent -happiness.’ Says she, ‘It would be as impossible for me to worship the -God of some Christians, as to worship a heathen God; and I have not -taught our boy to worship such a bein’, but I have learned him from a -child, to look upon Him as his nearest and dearest friend, the truest, -and the tenderest; the one always near him, ready to help him when all -other help was vain; grieved with his wrong doin’; rejoicin’ in his -efforts to do right; helpin’ him in his struggles with his small -temptations; drawin’ his soul upward with his divine love and -tenderness. We have tried to teach him by our lives—which is the loudest -preachin’—that the best way to show our love to God, is by bein’ helpful -and compassionate to a sorrowful humanity.’” - -[Illustration: THE DEACON.] - -Says I, “‘The old Deacon don’t look on religion in that light at all; he -don’t seem to want to do any good, but jest gives his whole mind to -bein’ wretched himself, and condemnin’ other folks’es sins, and makin’ -them wretched. He seems to think if he can only do that, and keep -himself from bein’ amused in any way, he is travelin’ the straight road -to heaven; that truly is his strong pint.’” - -“Well, she said she thought of the Saviour’s last charge to his -disciples after his death and resurrection, when his words might well -contain all earthly experience, and heavenly wisdom. Three times he -asked that disciple, ‘Lovest thou me?’ And each separate time he bade -him prove that love, not by bein’ gloomy faced and morose, not by loud -preachin’ and condemnation of others, and long prayers and vows to Him, -but in carin’ for the flock He had left. And when he pronounced the doom -of the condemned, it was not because they had been happy and cheerful; -not because they had neglected the creeds and forms of religion, but -because they had seen Him in the form of a sufferin’ humanity, naked, -athirst, and faint, and had not ministered unto Him. - -“She talked like a little female preacher, Tom’s ma did; it was the -first speech she had made sense I knew her, and that was goin’ on forty -years, countin’ in seven years of stiddy courtin’. And says she in -windin’ up—you know preachers always wind up, and Tom’s ma did—says she: - -“‘I guess we won’t begin to be stern and dignified with Tom now, for we -don’t care in particular about gainin’ the admiration of an awe-struck -world, or awakenin’ Tom’s fears by makin’ patterns of ourselves;’ and -says she, ‘I have always found, that people who set themselves up for -patterns are very disagreeable as companions.’ Says she, ‘What we want -is to save our boy, make him good and happy, and I am not a bit afraid -of makin’ him too happy in an innocent way;’ says she, ‘for goodness is -the own child of happiness on its mother’s side.’ - -[Illustration: THE CONDEMNED FIDDLE.] - -“Who is the other parent?” says I. - -Says she with a reverent look: - -“‘Goodness is born of God, and happiness is its own mother, nursed and -brought up by her.’ She talked powerful, Tom’s ma did. But as I was a -sayin’, in the matter of Molly the Deacon stands firm, and Molly bein’ -the only child there, the old Deacon most probable hates to be left -alone, though they do say that the Deacon is goin’ to marry a Miss Horn, -who spent last winter here to her brother’s, and—’” - -But my Josiah interrupted him: “Molly the only child? Where’s Zebulin -Jr.” - -“Oh he run away in war time. He’d worked day and night to make a fiddle. -His mind was all sot on music, and they said the fiddle sounded -first-rate; but when he got it done, the old Deacon burnt it up; he was -so everlastin’ good, that he thought fiddlin’ was wicked. But Zeb Jr. -not bein’ so good, couldn’t look at it in that light, so he left.” - -“Where’s Zacheus?” - -“Oh Zack, he run away a few weeks after Zeb did. It was sunthin’ about a -checker-board that ailed Zack—I believe the old Deacon split it up for -kindlin’ wood. Anyway it was someway where the Deacon showed up his own -goodness and Zack’s sinfulness.” - -“Well, where are the twins, Noah and Nathan?” - -“Oh the twins got to runnin’ to the tarvern. They’d get out of the -winder nights, after pretendin’ to go to bed early; said they couldn’t -stay to home. I s’pose the Deacon was so good, that it made ’em powerful -uncomfortable, they bein’ so different. It was jest about that time I -had such a tussle to keep Tom to home. They was both of ’em jest about -Tom’s age, they was next older than Molly. Well, as might be expected, -they got into bad company to the tarvern, got to drinkin’ and carousin’, -and the Deacon turned ’em out doors. Bein’ so good he naturally couldn’t -stand such doin’s at all, and they went from bad to worse. I don’t know -where they be now, though I heerd they had gone to sea. They seemed to -be the most sot ag’inst religion of any of ’em, the two twins was. I -heerd they vowed they’d be pirates before they died, but I don’t know -whether they ever got up to that aim of theirn or not.” - -“Well, there was another boy, between Zebulin Jr. and Zack. Where is -he?” - -“Oh, that was Jonathan. A real good-hearted feller Jont was, and full of -fun when his father wasn’t round; of course the old Deacon wouldn’t -stand no fun. Jont was the smartest one of the lot, and his mother’s -idol. Well, the old Deacon was bent on Jonts preachin’, was determined -to make an Elder of him, and Jont hadn’t never experienced religion, nor -nothin.’ He told his father, I’ve heern, that he never had no call to -preach, and that he was sot on bein’ a carpenter. Always putterin’ round -a carpenter’s shop, and makin’ little housen, and wheels and things, -Jont was; his nateral nater all seemed to run that way, but the old -Deacon wouldn’t give in, said _he_ called him, himself. He atted Jont -about it all the time, preachin’ at him, and exhortin’ him. He was bound -at convertin’ Jont himself. I s’pose he exhorted him powerful, and Jont -not bein’ good enough to stand it, the upshot of the matter was, he -jined a circus; turns summersets and so 4th.” - -[Illustration: FOOLIN’ AWAY TIME.] - -“What did Uncle Zebulin say to that?” - -“Oh, the old Deacon is so dignified you can’t never see no change in -him, he haint one of the kind to squirm. He said in a conference meetin’ -that week, that it was dretful consolin’ to think he had always done his -duty by Jont, sot his sinful state before him day and night, and been a -pattern before him from his youth. He was thankful and happy that his -sin didn’t lay on _his_ coat-skirts. But it jest killed the old lady; -she didn’t live only a few weeks after Jont left.” - -“Then Aunt Patience is dead?” says Josiah sithin’. - -“Yes, she had been in a kind of a melancholly way for sometime, had kind -o’ crazy spells, and when Jont left home that used her completely up.” - -“It seems to me there was another boy, but I can’t call him by name this -minute.” - -“Oh, you mean Absolom.” - -“Yes, Absolom! Where’s he?” says Josiah. - -“Oh, Absolom stole a cow and was sent to jail. He said he’d always been -called ungodly, and if he had the name, he’d have the game; so he stole -a cow and was shet up.” - -“I was a thinkin’ I heerd that Aunt Patience’es neice’s boy was a goin’ -to live with him,—the one that never had no father in particular.” - -“Yes,” says Elam Pitkins, “he did go to live there, but the old Deacon -was so tarnal good that the boy couldn’t stand it with him.” - -“What was the matter?” says Josiah. - -“Well, the old Deacon bein’ sot so firm onto the docterines himself, -thought the boy ort to think as he did, and be willin’, if it was for -heaven’s glory, to be burnt up root and branch. The old Deacon worked at -that boy eight months night and day to make him willin’ to go to hell; -and the boy, bein’ a master hand for tellin’ the truth, and not bein’ -good enough to be willin’ to go, wouldn’t say that he was. But the old -Deacon had ‘got his back up,’—as a profane poet observes—and he was -bound to carry the day, and he’d argue with him powerful, so they say, -as to why he ort to be willin’. He’d tell him he was a child of wrath, -and born in sin; and the boy, bein’ so mean, would sass him right back -again, and tell him that he didn’t born himself; that it wasn’t none of -his doin’s and he wasn’t to blame for it; and that if he had had _his_ -way, and been knowin’ to it at the time, he’d drather give ten cents -than to have been born at all. - -“And the Deacon couldn’t stand no such wicked talk as that, and he’d lay -to and whip him, and then he’d try again to make him willin’ to go to -hell. - -“And finally, the boy told him one day that he was willin’; he’d drather -go, root and branch, than to live with him. And then the Deacon whipped -him harder than ever; and the boy got discouraged and took to lyin’, and -probable there haint so big a liar to-day in North America. He’s -studyin’ for a lawyer.” - -Again my companion seemed to be almost lost in thought, and says he: - -“It is the most astonishin’ thing I ever see, that so good a man as -Uncle Zebulin, should have a family that turned out so bad. It seems to -be a mysterious dispensation of Providence.” - -“Yes!” says Elam Pitkins. “It is Providence that done it, I haint a -doubt of it.” - -This made me so agitated, that entirely unbeknown to myself I riz right -up in the wagon, and says I: - -“Josiah Allen if you lay any more such doin’s to Providence, I’ll know -the reason why.” Says I, “Not bein’ Elam Pitkins’es natural gardeun, if -he’s a mind to slander Providence I can’t help it, but _you_ shant, -Josiah Allen. You shall not talk ag’inst Providence, and abuse him by -layin’ conduct to him that He is as innocent of as a infant babe. - -“Well! well! do set down Samantha. How it does look for you to be a -standing up a ridin’.” - -The democrat give a awful jolt jest that minute, and truly I did what my -companion advised me to, I sot down. But though my body was a settin’ -down my mind was up and a doin’, for I see what was before me. I see -that as a Promiscous Advisor there was a job ahead of me to tackle in -the cause of Right. - -When Elam Pitkins sot us down in front of Uncle Zebulin Coffin’ses house -door, (two miles and a half almost, from Loon Town), the sun was jest a -goin’ to bed for the night; a settlin’ down into a perfect pile of gold -and purple and crimson bed clothes and comforters. But it seemed as if -after he had pulled up the great folds of shinin’ drapery over him and -covered his head up, he was a laughin’ to himself down under the -bed-clothes, to think he had left the world lookin’ so beautiful and -cheerful. Everything seemed to appear sort of happy and peaceful and -still, still as a mouse, almost. It was the time of daisies and sweet -clover, and all along the quiet country road, the white daisies was a -smilin’ and noddin’ their bright heads. And the sweet clover, and the -wild roses with their pretty red lips that the bees had been a kissin’ -the biggest heft of the day, seemed to take a solid comfort in lookin’ -bright, and makin’ the air sweet as honey, and sweeter. - -There had been a shower of rain in the mornin’, and old Nater’s face was -all washed off as clean as a pink; not a mite of dust on it. The medder -was green as green could be, and the wavin’ wheat fields, looked -first-rate. There was a strip of woods towards the west, quite a -considerable ways off, shady and still it looked, and beyond that we -could see the lake, part of it blue and serene like, and part of it -lookin’ like them streets of gold, we read about. - -The birds was a singin’ sort o’ low and sweet in the trees in the -orchard. The sky overhead blushed up kinder pink, but the east was blue -and clear, and the moon was sailin’ up in it like a silver boat that had -sot out for the land of Pure Delight and expected to get there in a few -moments. I don’t know when I ever see a handsomer time. - -There are times you know, when it seems as if heaven and earth got so -near to each other, that the stream of the Unknown that divides our -world from the world of eternal light and beauty, could be spanned by -one minute, if you could fix that minute onto an arrer, and aim it -right, and shoot it straight. Oh! how beautiful and consolin’ and -inspirin’ and happyfyin’ every thing looked, and I remarked to my -pardner in tones of rapped admiration and extacy: - -“Josiah, did you ever see so handsome a time?” - -Josiah realized it; that man has a great eye for beauty. Though he don’t -say so much as some men do, he feels the more. His eyes looked dreamy -and sort o’ meditatin’, and his tones was low and gentle, as he replied -to me: - -“I hope they haint eat supper yet Samantha.” - -Before I could answer him, a man come round the corner of the house, a -walkin’ slowly along with his hands clasped under his coat-tails, and I -knew the minute I sot eyes on him it was Uncle Zebulin Coffin. He was -tall, and big boneded, but in dretful poor order; he had wintered bad, I -knew. His face was from half to three-quarters of a yard in length. (I -may not git the exact number of inches, never havin’ laid a yard stick -to him, but I made a careless estimate in my mind, and have probable got -it pretty near right.) - -[Illustration: MEETIN’ THE DEACON.] - -He seemed lengthy everyway. His nose was long, and his chin was long, -and his mouth was drawed down lengthways dretful long, and his vest was -long, and his coat tails was long, and black as a coal his clothes was, -every mite of ’em; his vest was buttoned up tight to his chin, and he -had a black stock on that come up to his ears. His head was well lifted -up, partly by the stock, and partly by dignity—about half-and-half I -should judge; or come to think it over, there was probable more dignity -than there was stock. He was awful dignified, and oh! how cold he -looked. Why, when he come round the corner of the house and faced the -west with his cold disapprovin’ eyes, I’ll be hanged if I didn’t think -that he would freeze all the beauty and gladness out of the sky. And -sure enough when I looked round, the sun had stopped laughin’ in a -minute, and in order to hide himself from the Deacon (as it were) had -begun to haul up over his shinin’ bed-clothes, a old faded out coverlet, -grey as a rat; and a dark shadder was a fallin’ over all the brightness -of the world. - -When his eyes fell onto us, Josiah trembled imperceptably; but though -cold shivers was a runnin’ over his back, he approached him—because he -must—and I, not being one to desert my companion in the time of trouble, -marched close by his side. - -“How do you do, Uncle Zebulin,” and Josiah tried hard to smile. “We have -come to see you.” - -His face looked more dignified than ever, and several degrees colder. I -declare it did seem as if Josiah’s whiskers must show signs of frost, if -it kep’ on. - -“What stranger cometh to see me out of a world of darkness and sin? Who -claims me as his kinsman?” - -And his voice was as cold as a axe in a December mornin,’ jest as cold -and icy. - -“It is Josiah Allen, Uncle Zebulin, don’t you know me? and this is -Samantha.” (And Josiah again made a fearful effort to smile.) - -But Zebulin Coffin drew his hands back, and folded ’em up under his -coat-skirts, and looked at Josiah a minute or two in complete stillness, -and his mean was as cold as a thermomiter hangin’ up right on the North -pole. It was a awful time. Finally he spoke: - -“I remember you Josiah Allen; you tarried with us occasionally in your -youthful days. The last time you were here you snickered at prayer time, -one of my own ungodly sons piercin’ you with a pin. Have you repented of -your sinful ways, Josiah Allen? Are you weary of husks?” - -Oh! how wretched and meachin’ Josiah Allen looked. He felt too mean to -speak, and Uncle Zebulin went on: - -“If you are weary of husks and tired of swine, I can forgive you Josiah. -Have you repented? Are you worthy of forgiveness? Speak, Josiah Allen; -have you come to eat of the fatted calf?” - -If Josiah Allen had been a sheep, a full blooded merino, he couldn’t -have looked any more sheepish. - -Jest at that minute a real sweet voice, but sort o’ sad like, called out -from the other side of the house: - -“Supper’s ready, father.” - -And then Zebulin Coffin ungripped his hands from under his coat tails, -and shook hands first with Josiah and then with me. But it was done in -such a way that takin’ the clammy feelin’ of his hand, and the cold icy -look of his eye, and his name bein’ Coffin, and all, I declare I felt -jest as if I was at a funeral, and was one of the first mourners. - -A prettier girl than Molly Coffin I don’t want to see! Nater is likely -and well behaved,—does lots of work too; but sometimes through havin’ so -much on her mind, I s’pose the old gal gits frisky and cuts up curious -capers. And if she had made a rosebud spring up and blow out in a dark -suller bottom, it wouldn’t have been a mite curiouser caper than for -such a blossom of a girl to blow out of such a soil as the Deacon’s -soil. - -Pretty, and patient, and tender-hearted, and sad, and hopeless, and half -broken hearted, I could see that too; and the minute we was introduced, -I jest laid holt of her and kissed her as if she had been my own girl. -And Josiah kissed her too, and I was glad on it. I haint one of the -jealous kind, and I know my companion is one man out of a thousand. He -has perfect confidence in my behavior day and night, and I have in -hisen; and oh! what a consolin’ comfort that is. Confidence is the -anchor of the heart; if it holds fast and firm, what safety and rest it -gives; but if the anchor wont hold, if it is waverin’ and goes a -driftin’ back and forth, a draggin’ the ropes of your affections that -try to grip holt of it—through the mud and the mire, oh, how wearin’ it -is to the rope and to the heart. But my trust in Josiah is like a -cast-iron anchor that grapples the rock every time; no shock of the -waves of change and chance and other wimmen can unhitch it; for truly I -know that though Josiah Allen is a short man, his morals are as high and -towerin’ as a meetin’ house steeple; but I am a episodin’. - -[Illustration: MOLLY CONSOLIN’ TOM PITKINS.] - -Molly had baked potatoes and cold meat, besides pie and cake and -preserves, and such stuff; and as we had gone in entirely unexpected, I -knew that Molly was a good housekeeper, for her vittles was good enough -for the very best of company. But the Deacon didn’t seem to be satisfied -with a thing she did. His eyes, as cold as the middle of last winter, -follered her all the time chuck full of disapproval. Her big sorrowful -eyes watched his face anxiously and sort o’ fearful like, every time he -spoke, for she was one of them gentle, lovin’ ones, that a harsh word or -a cold look stabs like a blow; and I know it was them words and looks -added to sorrow and Tom Pitkins, that had made her pretty cheeks so thin -and white, and give that wistful, frightened, sorrowful look to her big -brown eyes. There she sot not darin’ to say a word, and there my -companion sot lookin’ as if he had stole a sheep. - -The Deacon asked a blessin’, remindin’ the Lord how awful good a -Christian he was, and asked him for mercy’s sake to pity the sinners -assembled round his board. It was about as long as one chapter of -Pollock’s Course of Time. Josiah thought when we was a talkin’ it over -afterwards, that it was as long as the hull book, the hull course of -time itself, but it wasn’t. We stood it first-rate, only his words was -so condemnin’ to us, and frigid, and he did it in such a freezin’ way -that I was most afraid it would make the potatoes cold as snow-balls. I -am a great case for potatoes; the poet made a mistake as fur as I am -concerned, for truly to me potatoes are “the staff of life”—or staffs I -suppose would be more grammarius. - -And as I see that man set at the head of the table almost completely -wrapped up in dignity—like a great self-righteous damper a shettin’ off -all the warmth and brightness of life from the hull on us, and a feelin’ -so uncommon big over it—I declare, duty and principle kep’ a hunchin’ me -so, and puttin’ me up to tackle him, that I couldn’t hardly eat. I knew -the hour drew near for me to set fire to myself as a martyr, and as a -Promiscous Advisor to tackle him in the cause of Right and Molly. - -Most all the while we was a eatin’, the Deacon kep’ a hintin’ and a -preachin’ about the wickedness and depravity of wimmen dressin’ -themselves up; and every time he would say anything, he would look at -Molly as if he was determined to freeze her as stiff as a poker. When we -got up from the table, and sot out in the settin’-room, I see what his -talk meant. - -It seemed she was a makin’ a white dress for herself out of muslin—jest -a finishin’ it off with some modest lookin’ lace on the neck and -sleeves, and a small—a very small and reasonable amount of puckers; she -could make the hull on it in a day and a half at the outside, and I -could see she would look as pretty in it as a pink. When the old Deacon -went to set down, he took the skirt of the dress that happened to be a -layin’ over his chair, and handlin’ it with considerable the countenance -he would a checkered adder, he broke out colder and frigider than ever: - -“No wonder the national debt haint paid; no wonder ruin and bankruptcy -are in the land, and it is wimmen’s base carnal extravagance that does -it.” - -“Yes,” says Josiah—who seemed to want to curry the Deacon’s favor—“it is -jest as you say; wimmen is tarnal extravagant.” - -Oh how he looked at Josiah; “I said _carnal_, I am not in the practice -of profane swearin’.” - -Oh how sorry my Josiah looked, to think he had tried to curry him down. - -And then the Deacon went on about wimmen’s base and vile extravagance, -as much as seventeen minutes by the clock, givin’ such a look once in a -while onto my respectable overskirt, and lace head-dress, and Molly’s -dress, enough to make icikles hang to ’em. I heerd him go on as long as -I could, and then says I: - -[Illustration: DRESSED FOR THE BALL.] - -“No doubt some of my sect are extravagant; I dare persume to say that -some of the big wimmen in Washington and New York, and other big -villages of the Union, git new clothes sometimes before the old ones are -wore out; I hear they say, that they have to dress up or they can’t git -any attention paid to ’em from the more opposite sect; I hear they say, -that the men there look down on ’em, and slight ’em, and treat ’em like -perfect underlin’s if they haint dressed right up in the height of -fashion. Why, they say there was a fashionable woman at Washington whose -bo had wrote a witherin’ piece ag’inst wimmen’s base wicked -extravagance, bewarin’ ’em, and urgin’ ’em in the name of all that was -great and good to come out and wear thick shoes, and dress with -republican simplicity; and she, bein’ converted by his burnin’ -eloquence, and bein’ anxious to marry him, thought she could bring him -to terms by follerin’ on after his advice. So she arrayed her self in a -brown, high-necked alpaca dress, barren of ruffles and puckers, made to -clear the floor and show her sensible calf-skin shoes, and went to a big -party, expectin’ her bo would be so thankful to her for follerin’ his -advice; so proud of her; so highly pleased with her behavior, that she -would go home as good as married to him. But they say, when he see how -she was dressed, he wouldn’t speak to her, nor look at her; it broke up -the match, he treated her with awful contempt, and witherin’ scorn; and -she went into extravagance more than ever; spent every cent of her -property in gauzes, and bobinet lace and things, wore ’em all out, and -then went to the poor-house, a victim of leanin’ too heavy onto such -men’s bewares. Lost and ondone; broke down and mortified by hangin’ too -blindly onto that man’s moral apron strings; I pity her, but I don’t -uphold her, nor him neither; their heads was soft, both on ’em, too soft -for comfort. - -[Illustration: EXTRAVAGANT WIMMEN.] - -“I dare say that there are lots of wimmen besides her that git new -bunnets when they haint a sufferin’ for ’em, and buy new dresses when -their old ones haint hardly come to mendin’, and mebby some of ’em have -two or three sets of jewelry at one time; and these dresses, and -bunnets, and jewelry, folks can lay holt of, and shake out before the -eyes of the public, and the public can look at ’em, and shed tears onto -’em, and bewail over ’em about wimmen’s extravagance; but men’s -extravagance haint so easy to git holt of as store clothes be. You can’t -weep over cigar smoke when it is evaporated, and after they are over -with, you can’t git holt of costly wines, and club dinners, and yot -races, and rides after fast horses, and bets, and gamblin’ debts, and -worse. As I said, their extravagance is harder to git holt of, but it is -worse than hers; for if she and he gits hungry, she can sell her jewelry -and fine clothes to buy bread for ’em, but who—no matter how big a -speculator he is—who can sell costly lunches years afterwards, and wines -after they are drunk up, and gamin’ and horse debts after they are paid -up, and old pleasure rides after fast horses, and etcetery. A man -couldn’t sell ’em at any lay at all, if he starved to death; so man’s -extravagance is _more_ extravagant than woman’s.” - -[Illustration: FRUGAL MEN.] - -[Sidenote: HOW I MARRIED THE DEACON’S DAUGHTER] - -The Deacon didn’t mind my words no more’n the wind a whistlin’ round the -corner of the barn; but he give a look onto the little white waist that -was a layin’ on the table, as angry and rebukin’ a look as I ever see, -and says he: “To think an immortal soul will peril its hopes of heaven -on such wicked vanity.” - -“Wicked!” says I, holdin’ up the little waist admirin’ly on my thumb and -forefinger. “It haint wicked, it is as white as chalk clean through;” -says I, “who told us to consider the lilies, and they are puckered up, -and ruffled off as much again as this is, and all ornamented off with -little gold ornaments; if there was any wickedness in ’em would He have -sot us to considerin’ of ’em? No! Zebulin Coffin, no!” And then I went -on in pretty reasonable tones: “No woman can have stronger principles -than I have on the subject of ruffles and knife pleatin’s, when pursued -after as a stiddy business and a trade. But I say it is jest as sensible -to expect young folks in the spring of life, to want to kinder trim -themselves out and look pretty, as it is to expect everything else to -kinder blow out in the spring of the year; apple trees, and pozy beds -and so 4th.” Says I, “I am a Promiscous Advisor by trade Uncle Zebulin, -and I feel it my duty to say to you promiscously, that you are -unreasonable; you don’t have charity enough for folks.” - -And then as I calculated to all the time, I give him a very, very blind -hint about Tom Pitkins—for I thought mebby I could mollyfy the old -Deacon about him—and so says I in a awful roundabout, blind way: “Mebby -you haint charity enough for a certain person that is likely as likely -can be; mebby you condemn this certain person because he plays dominoes, -and has danced a very little in a neighborly way.” - -The Deacon acted mad; and he run on about dancin’ almost fearfully, when -I asked him considerable calmly: “Did you ever dance when you was young, -Uncle Zeb?” - -If a look could have cut anybodys head off, my Josiah would have mourned -over a guluntined companion that very minute. - -“Dance! _I dance!_” Oh how he went on; and says I, “I s’pose you went to -parties and played?” - -“Oh yes,” says he, “In youthful mirth I gambolled through the innocent -forms of ‘Wink ’em Slyly’ and such, but I never danced, I never -committed that sin.” - -[Illustration: THE DEACON’S OLD GAME.] - -“No,” says I, “but you went through with all the motions of dancin’, -caperin’ round the room, chasin’ likely wimmen to Copenhagen; and a -runnin’ ’em through the Needles-eye till they was most dead. Winkin’ of -’em slyly, and racin’ ’em round till you most run your precious legs off -and theirn too. You went through all the motions of dancin’, only -instead of takin’ their hands and promenadin’ down the room with ’em at -a slow respectable gait to the sound of music, you laid too and chased -’em, galloped after ’em like a wild Injun till you chased ’em down; -takin’ the advantage of ’em by dodgin’ unbeknown to ’em—catchin’ holt of -’em and a tearin’ their dresses, rippin’ of ’em off at the waist; -steppin’ through their flounces, towzelin’ their hair, and lamin’ of -’em. You chased ’em round in a particular form jest like dancin’ only -what took the wickedness off was your kissin’ ’em when you catched ’em; -every man in the room kissin’ every woman promiscous; that made it moral -and religious, so Deacons and all other meetin’ house folks could foller -it up.” - -He looked wrathful, very; but I continued on in more reasonable axents: - -“I never had no call to be a dancer, I always thought my time could be -spent in a more profitable way; and my Tirzah Ann never had no call that -way, and neither did she ever take to those promiscous kissin’ parties. -When she was a little mite of a girl she didn’t want to kiss anybody but -her pa and me, and I wouldn’t make her. Some thought she was too dainty -and I ort to punish her. Wimmen with their faces covered with scotch -snuff, have argued with me that it was my duty to whip her for hangin’ -back from kissin’ ’em; but I says to ’em what if some big giant should -stand over me and make me kiss Simon Slimpsey or Solomon Cypher, how -should I feel? And Tirzah Ann has her rights as well as I -have—childern’s rights are jest as right as wimmen’s rights. Why should -I, because I am physically stronger than she is, force her to do what is -disagreeable and repulsive to her? There is no justice in it. Little -childern forced into this life entirely unbeknown to them, called out of -the peaceful land of Nowhere into this troublesome world by no will of -their own, ort to be treated well, Zebulin Coffin, by their fathers and -mothers and parents. It is a solemn thing, one of the solemnest things -that ever was done to wake up a deathless soul, to be endlessly happy or -miserable. An immortal soul, that can’t through time or eternity—no -matter how tired it is, ever go to sleep again; can’t never lay off for -half a moment, if ever so weary and despairin’, the burden of life’s -responsibilities, the burden of life’s sorrows; can’t never lay down the -awful—awful because so mysterious—gift of immortality; can’t never go -back to the serene if lonesome land you called ’em from—they have got to -face sorrow and weariness and death. You have sot ’em down in front of -them troubles anyway; and the least you can do for ’em is to make ’em as -happy as you can; treat ’em with respect and civility and do well by -’em. And if their hearts seem to be sot on certain persons, if them -certain persons are likely—which they be—we ort to do as we would be -done by if we was in Tom’s and Molly’s place.” - -But I see then that even these roundabout hints wouldn’t be took. I see -how hard it was to mollyfy him about Molly, and I hastened to continue -on. - -“As I was a sayin’, I wouldn’t make Tirzah Ann kiss folks promiscous -when she was a child, and when she grew up sort of bashful like, it -didn’t trouble me, for I knew her little dainty, timid, modest ways was -jest like the blush on a peach or a bunch of grapes; if that got brushed -off by rough handlin’, all the world couldn’t never put it back again. -As I said, she never had no drawin’ towards balls and promiscous -parties, and runnin’ off nights away from home. And though I don’t -consider it the height of wickedness at all, still it didn’t worry me a -bit to have her contented and willin’ to stay to home. She said home was -the pleasantest spot in the world to her, and so Thomas J. said. Josiah -and I did our best to make home pleasant to the childern; we had all -sorts of virtuous and harmless games, music and etcetery, to make ’em -happy—and they _was_ happy. We worked hard to git ’em headed right—and -they did head right; and when a likely young man come along that loved -Tirzah Ann, and she him, why we give our consent, jest as in my opinion -certain persons ort to have the free and full consent of a certain -Deacon.” - -I _would_ give him a blind hint once in a while, if he took my head off; -but I see by his looks that it wouldn’t do to come out plain jest yet, -so I went on: - -“I tried to make myself a sort of a mate to my Tirzah Ann, brought her -up so’s not to feel awe-struck, and afraid of me; afraid to confide all -her little tribulations and worryments to me.” Says I, “We worked head -work to keep ’em good and happy; Josiah and me did.” - -The Deacon had sot for the last several moments with his head right up -in the air, and his eyes rolled up so I couldn’t see much besides the -whites of ’em, and as I stopped a few moments (for truly my breath had -give out, my deep principle tone uses up breath dretful fast) he groaned -out; “_Works._” - -But I says mildly, “don’t you believe in works?” - -“No I don’t, I believe in faith; you seem to lay out to be saved by -works.” And again he spoke out that “works,” as if it was the meanest -thing he ever heerd on; he lifted up his nose in as unbelievin, and -scornful a way as I ever see a nose lifted up. - -But I kep’ cool, and says I, “No, I don’t; but I believe faith and works -ort to go together; they ort to work in one harness a drawin’ the soul -along the straight and narrer way.” Says I, “They haint calculated to -work in a single harness, either of ’em; they are double breasted, and -folks ort to realize that they be.” Says I, “I have seen folks before -now that kep’ the eye of their faith bent so stiddy upwards, that they -didn’t know nor care how many weak and helpless ones they was crunchin’ -down under their heels; how many infant babes was a perishin’ with -hunger about ’em, starvin’ physically, and spiritually; the air full of -the groans and prayers of a sufferin’ humanity, and they a walkin’ -calmly on, a hangin’ on to their faith, and their old beliefs, as if it -was the most delightful and consolin’ thing they ever heerd on, to think -_they_ was goin’ to be saved, and somebody else wasn’t. And then I’ve -seen them that laid themselves out on their good works, thought they was -goin’ to earn a deed of the heavenly homestead by doin’ day’s works -below; think they made themselves, and worship their maker. But there -haint either of these ways the right way.” - -[Illustration: HELPIN’ THE WIDDER.] - -Says I, “If you was a drowndin’, you would believe in faith and works -both. You would want somebody to have faith, they could git you out, and -then you would want ’em to lay to, and haul you ashore.” Says I, “Faith -alone in that case would drownd you stiffer’n a mushrat; and jest so in -various cases,—poor widders for instance. Now several hundred deacons -may git together in a warm meetin’-house, and lean over on their creeds -and have faith that a certain widder will come through the winter all -right. And probable it wouldn’t be half the help to her that one small -deacon would be that loaded up his Bobs with stove-wood, and flour, and -potatoes, and side-pork, and jest worked his way along through the snow -to her cold empty suller. And then on the other hand not to have any -faith, that I couldn’t stand. Some folks say they wont believe in -anything they can’t see for themselves. Good land! how will they git -holt of the prefume of a rose, or tackle a gust of wind? One is sweet -enough to fill you with happiness, and the other is strong enough to -blow you over; but you can’t git holt of one, with your two hands, or -wrastle with the other and throw it. - -“We work by faith every day of our lives; we plant seed in the dark -earth, believin’ that though the seed perishes, it will break the bands -of death, and rise in greenness and bloom; though jest how it does that -job you cant tell, nor I cant, nor Josiah. They needn’t talk to me about -not believin’ anything they don’t understand; for what _do_ we -understand come to look at the matter fair and square?” Says I, “Life -itself is a sober riddle, the solemnest conundrum that was ever put out -to humanity. Who has ever been able to git the right answer to it by -reasonin’ it out himself, and if he did cypher out an answer, to suit -himself, how would he know it was the right one? We see that things be, -but why they be so, you can’t tell, nor I, nor Josiah. - -“Truly, if anybody gits to pryin’ into hidden things, and reasonin’ on -first causes, he finds that the flood is deep and the rain is descendin’ -onto him, and the proud peaks of his own reason and judgment is drownded -completely out. But God has sent forth an ark that rides triumphant on -the face of the waters; His revealed word floats above the rainy deluge -of our fears and wonderments. Not to have any faith would tucker me -completely out; there would be a looseness to it I couldn’t stand, a -waverin’ unstiddyness that would upset me, and take me offen my feet.” - -Says I, “Faith and works ort to be twisted in one strand, and when they -are, they make a cord that anchors the soul to the Rock of Ages, and -holds it there fast and firm, so that change, and chance, and sin, and -temptation, and all the storms of this stormy life will beat ag’inst it -in vain, and bime-by that very cord will draw the soul right up through -the pearly gates into the city of our Lord.” - -I declare I didn’t hardly know where I was, nor who I was, I was so -almost lost and carried away some distance by my emotions. But I was -soon drawed back to the realities of this life by Zebulin Coffin. His -mind was a roamin’ back to the subject on which he had went on, and -again he spoke out with a groan: “To think! to think I have lived to see -and hear a church member uphold dancin’.” - -“I haint a holdin’ it up,” says I, coldly. “With the firm cast-iron -principles I have got, I never would dance a step with anybody but my -Josiah; and it haint much likely we shall begin to learn the trade now, -as old as we be, and most dead with the rheumatiz, both on us. Why, if -we should waltz together, as lame as I be, I couldn’t keep my feet half -a minute; and if I should fall on my pardner, he would be a dead man, -and I know it; I am hefty, very, and he is small boneded, and weighs but -little by the steelyards. I love that man devotedly, and I don’t want to -dance; but I say and I contend for it, if I was a follerin’ up -‘Wink-em-Slyly’ and etcetery, I wouldn’t have too much to say ag’inst -other kinds of caperin’ round the floor, such as dancin’ and so 4th.” - -“I say all this to you, Uncle Zebulin, not as Josiah Allen’s wife, but -as a woman with a vow on her. When folks set out on towers as Promiscous -Advisors, they set out as sufferers and martyrs; they set out expectin’ -to be burnt up on various stakes of the same. I have locked arms with -Principle, I am keepin’ stiddy company with Duty, and they are a drawin’ -me along and a hunchin’ of me in the side, a makin’ me say to you, that -you are as self-righteous as the Old Harry; that you are more sot on -makin’ a pattern of yourself than in makin the world ’round you happier -and brighter; that instead of reflectin’ heaven’s peace and glory back -again upon a sad earth as Christians ort to, you have made a damper of -yourself, shettin’ off all warmth and light and happiness; a damper for -sinners to set down and freeze to death by.” - -“To think!” he groaned out, “that anybody should dare to find fault with -me when I haint committed a sin in thirty-five years, nor smiled in over -forty.” - -“Not laughin’ haint no sign of religion Uncle Zeb; because a man makes -himself disagreeable and repulsive, that haint another sign; gloom and -discomfort haint piety; because a man is in pain it haint no sign he is -enjoyin’ religion. I wouldn’t give two or three straws for a religion -that didn’t make folks happier as well as better; more tender and -charitable and pitiful; more loving and helpful to all humanity. Bigotry -and intolerance never was religion, Uncle Zeb, nor never will be, though -they have been called so time and again; religion is sunthin’ different, -it is as beautiful as _they_ are hegus; it is gentle, full of joy and -peace, pure, easily entreated, full of good works, mercy, and -charity—which is love. - -“It is not Samantha, but a woman on the battle-field of Right, who is a -rakin’ you down with the arrers of Truth; it is a Promiscous Advisor who -says to you, that you have for years been doin’ what a great many do in -the name of religion; you have wrapped yourself in your own dignity and -self-righteousness, and worshipped yourself instead of God.” - -I didn’t say no more then to the old Deacon in a martyr way; I pulled in -the reins and dismounted down from the war horse that was a canterin’ -away nobly with me, and a snortin’ in the cause of Right. Though ready -and willin’ in spirit to mount this war horse and foller on where -Principle leads, without saddle or bridle, and to suffer as a Promiscous -Advisor, still it is a tuckerin’ business, and if anybody don’t believe -it, let em ride off this war-horse on a tower. - -And the very hardest and most tuckerin’ place it ever cantered into, the -most gaulin’ and awfulest place it ever pranced round in, is other -folks’es housen. When it comes to advisin’ folks promiscously, under -their own “vials and mantletrees,” never, never do I feel such -temptations to give up my shield and fall offen his back. Oh, John -Rogers! you never, never suffered more excruciatin’ly than does Josiah -Allen’s wife in such moments. Nothin’, nothin’ but principle could nerve -me up to the agonizin’ effort. As I said, I didn’t say no more to the -old Deacon that night in a martyr way, and oh! what a relief it was to -dismount from the prancin’ steed of Duty, throw off the sharp moral spur -from my achin’ feet, curl in my lofty principle tone, and assume again -the gentle and almost affectionate axents of Samantha. - -And another reason why I thought I would be kinder easy with the old -Deacon and not say anything to git him mad, was my determination to -mollyfy him about Molly—and a plan I had in my head growin’ bigger and -stronger every minute—to _marry that girl to Tom Pitkins, myself, before -I left that house_. - -The hired girl had told me—I went out to wash my hands to the sink and I -happened to ask her in a polite way if she was goin’ to see the -Sentinal, and she said she was, that the old Deacon had told her that -day he was goin’ to be married in two weeks to Miss Horn, and shouldn’t -want her no longer—and if he was a goin’ to marry that Horn what good -was Molly a goin’ to do there, only in a martyr way. Some gentle souls -seem to be born martyrs, not to principles and idees, but ready to be -offered up on a Horn or anything; ready to be pricked and scattered over -with snuff in their pinnin’ blankets, and grow up ready to sacrifice -themselves to any idol that calls on ’em to—crumple right down and be -sot fire to—such was Molly. And it is for some strong hearted friend to -snatch ’em away from the fagots and the kindlin’ wood,—such a friend is -Samantha. Some see happiness right in front of ’em, and are too weak to -grasp holt of it; such need the help of a hand like hers. - -I lay awake the biggest heft of that night, a thinkin’ in deep thought, -and a layin’ on plans. And finally I guess about three o’clock, I spoke -out and says I: - -“Josiah Allen, we have got to marry Molly to-day before we leave this -house.” - -“Good land!” says Josiah startin’ up on his piller full of horrer. “Good -land,” says he, “I haint a Mormon, Samantha, I can’t marry to another -woman.” - -Says I coolly, “Lay down and compose yourself Josiah Allen; I am a goin’ -to marry her myself.” - -This skairt him worse than ever I could see, and he started up, with a -still more ghastly look onto him. He was so pale with horrer that his -bald head shone in the moonlight like a big goose egg, and his eyes -stood out about a quarter of an inch with fear and excitement. He -thought I was delerious; says he in tremblin’ tones: “What does ail you -Samantha! Shant I rub your back? Don’t you want sunthin’ to take?” - -Says I calmly, “I want a companion that wont interrupt me before I -finish a speech. I am a goin’ to marry Molly to Tom Pitkins myself -before I leave this house. Lay down Josiah Allen and keep still while I -talk it over with you.” - -[Illustration: “I HAINT A MORMON.”] - -“Talk it over!” says he in loud angry tones, throwin’ his head back on -the piller. “I would break out in the dead of night, and scare a man to -death, a talkin’ and a arguin’. Do go to sleep, and lemme.” - -But I held firm, and would tell him about the plan I had been a layin’ -on through the night. I would tell him how I meant to mollyfy the Deacon -about Molly. - -Says I, “Josiah Allen, I am a woman that has got a vow on me, and I love -that girl, as little as I have seen of her, and I am a goin’ to do by -her as I would want our Tirzah Ann done by.” Says I, “We shant probable -never visit Loon Town again; Tom Pitkins is liable to die off any time -with the feelin’s he feels for her; she is liable to die off any minute -with her unhappiness, and her feelin’s for him. I shouldn’t wonder a -mite if they didn’t live more’n ten or fifteen years if things go on as -they be now. And as bad off and wretched as Molly is now, worse is ahead -of her, the gloom of a Coffin is enough, let alone the hardness of a -Horn. Molly haint a goin’ to be sacrificed on that Horn, while I have -got a life left. Desperate diseases require desperate medicines.” - -“Well, do for mercy’s sake go to sleep and lemme.” - -“What if it was our Tirzah Ann that was in her place.” Says I in a low -deep voice, “Haint you a father, Josiah Allen?” - -“No I _haint_!” he snapped out enough to tear my night cap in to. “No I -haint, nothin’ nor nobody, nor I wont be at this time of night.” - -“Haint you no principle?” says I. - -“No I haint! not a darn principle.” - -“I’d lay and swear if I was in _your_ place Josiah Allen,” says I almost -coldly. - -“Well! the idee of roustin’ anybody up in the dead of night, and callin’ -on ’em for principle and things. But you wont git any principle out of -me at this time of night, you’ll _see_ you wont,” he hollered. - -He was almost a luny for the time bein’. I pitted him, and says I -soothin’ly: - -“Go to sleep Josiah, and we’ll talk it over in the mornin’.” - -He dropped off to sleep, and I kep’ on a thinkin’ and a layin’ on my -plans to marry Molly off till most mornin’. And I did it, I married off -Molly about one o’clock and we started for the Sentinal in the -neighborhood of two. - -Jest how I mollyfied the old Deacon about Molly, and brought him to -terms, I thought I wouldn’t tell to anybody but Josiah. Mebby there was -hints throwed out to him that there was Horns that would be meddled -with, and sot up ag’inst him. I guess I hadn’t better tell it, for I -made up my mind that I wouldn’t say nothin’ about it to anybody but my -Josiah. But I dressed Molly up that very afternoon,—she a blushin’ and a -laughin’ and a cryin’ at the same time—in that very white dress, and -married her myself (assisted by a Methodist minister) to Tom Pitkins. - -And I have learned by a letter from Molly, and she sent me her new -picture, (they have gone to housekeepin’ and are as happy as kings) that -her father is married to Miss Horn. And all I have got to say is, that -she needs a good horn disposition to git along with him. And he, unless -I am mistaken, will wish before the year was up that he was a sleepin’ -peacefully inside of his own Sername. - -[Illustration] - - - - - THE GRAND EXHIBITION. - - -From the first minute I had give a thought to goin’ to see the Sentinal, -my idee had been to git boarded up in a private house. And I had my eye -(my mind’s eye) upon who was willin’ and glad to board us. The Editor of -the Auger’ses wife’s sister’s husband’s cousin boarded folks for a -livin’—she was a Dickey and married to a Lampheare. The Editor of the -Auger’ses wife told me early in the spring, that if _she_ went, she -should go through the Sentinal to her sisters’, and she happened to -mention Miss Lampheare and the fact that she boarded up folks for a -livin’. So when we decided to go, I told her when she wrote to her -sister to ask her, to ask Miss Lampheare if she was willin’ to board -Josiah and me, and how much she would ask for the boards. She wrote -back; her terms was moderate and inside of our means, and my mind was at -rest. I almost knew that Josiah would want to throw himself onto his -relatives through the Sentinal, but the underpinnin’ was no firmer and -rockier under our horse barn than the determination of her that was -Samantha Smith, not to encamp upon a 2nd cousin. We had quite a lot of -relations a livin’ out to Filadelfy—though we never seen ’em,—sort o’ -distant, such as 2nd cousins, and so 4th, till they dwindled out of -bein’ any relations at all; descendants of the Daggets and -Kidds,—Grandmother Allen was a Kidd—no relation of old Captain Kidd. No! -if any of his blood had been in my Josiah’s veins, I would have bled him -myself if I had took a darnin’ needle to it. No! the Kidd’ses are likely -folks as I have heerd—and Josiah was rampant to go to cousin Sam Kidds -(a Captain in the late war), through the Sentinal. But again I says to -him calmly but firmly: - -“No! Josiah Allen, no! anything but bringin’ grief and trouble onto -perfect strangers jest because they happened to be born second cousin to -you, unbeknown to ’em;” and I repeated with icy firmness—for I see he -was a hankerin’ awfully,—“Josiah Allen I will not encamp upon Captain -Kidd through the Sentinal.” - -No! Miss Lampheare was my theme, and my gole, and all boyed up with hope -we arrove at her dwellin’ place. Miss Lampheare met us at the door -herself. She was a tall spindlin’ lookin’ woman, one that had seen -trouble—for she had always kep’ boarders, and had had four husbands, and -buried ’em in a row, her present one bein’ now in a decline. When I told -her who I was, she met me with warmth and said that any friend of she -that was Alminy Dickey was dear to her. But friendship, let it be ever -so ardent can not obtain cream from well water, or cause iron bedsteads -to stretch out like Injy Rubber. She had expected us sooner, if we come -at all, and her house was overflowin’—every bed, lounge, corner and -cupboard, being occupied, and the buro and stand draws made up nightly -for childern. - -What _was_ we to do? Night would soon let down her cloudy mantilly upon -Josiah and me, and what was to become of us. Miss Lampheare seemed to -pity us, and she directed us to a friend of hers; that friend was full; -he directed us to another friend; that friend was overflowin’. And so it -went on till we was almost completely tired out. At last Josiah come out -of a house, where he had been seekin’ rest and findin’ it not; says he: - -“They said mebby we could git a room at the ‘Grand Imposition Hotel.’” -So we started off there, Josiah a scoldin’ every step of the way, and a -sayin’: - -“I told you jest how it would be, we ort to have gone to Captain -Kidd’s.” - -I didn’t say nothin’ back on the outside for I see by his face that it -was no time for parley. But my mind was firm on the inside, to board in -grocery stores, and room under my umberell, before I threw myself onto a -perfect stranger through the Sentinal. - -But a recital of our agony of mind and body will be of little interest -to the gay, and only sadden the tender hearted; and suffice it to say in -a hour’s time, we was a follerin’ the hired man to a room in the “Grand -Imposition Hotel.” - -Our room was good enough, and big enough for Josiah and me to turn round -in it one at a time. It had a bed considerable narrer, but good and -healthy—hard beds are considered healthy, by the best of doctors—a -chair, a lookin’ glass, and a wash-stand. Josiah made a sight of fun of -that, because it didn’t have but three legs. - -But says I firmly, “That is one more than _you_ have got Josiah Allen.” -I wouldn’t stand none of his foolin’. - -The room bein’ pretty nigh to the ruff,—_very_ nigh on the -backside,—Josiah complained a sight about hittin’ his head ag’inst the -rafters. I told him to keep out then where he belonged, and not go to -prowlin’ round at the foot of the bed. - -“Where _shall_ I go to Samantha,” says he in pitiful axents. “I let you -have the chair, and what will become of me, if I don’t set somewhere, on -the bed, or sunthin’.” - -“Well,” says I mildly, “less try to make the best of things. It haint -reasonable to expect to be to home and on a tower at the same time, -simultaneous.” - -When we eat supper we had a considerable journey to the dinin’ room, -which looked a good deal on the plan of Miss Astor’ses, with lots of -colored folks a goin’ round, a waitin’ on the hungry crowd. I didn’t see -the woman of the house—mebby she was laid up with a headache, or had -gone out for an afternoon’s visit—but the colored waiters seemed to be -real careful of her property; they’d catch a tea-spoon right out of -their pocket and put it in your tea; she couldn’t have kep’ a closer -grip on her tea-spoons herself. - -I can truly say without stretchin’ the truth the width of a horse hair, -that the chamber-maid was as cross as a bear, for every identical thing -I asked her for was a extra—she couldn’t do it without extra pay, but -she did git me some ice water once, without askin’ me a cent extra for -it. After we got to bed Josiah would lay and talk. He would speak out -all of a sudden: - -“Grand Imposition Hotel!” - -And I’d say, “What of it, what if it is?” - -And then he’d say: “They have got a crackin’ good name, Samantha. I love -to see names that mean sunthin’.” And then he’d ask me if I remembered -the song about Barbara Allen, and if it would hurt my feelin’s if he -should lay and sing a verse of it to me, the bed put him in mind of it -so. - -I asked him what verse—but there was that in my tone that made him say -no more about singin’—he said it was the verse where Barbara wanted her -mother to have her coffin made “long and narrer.” And then he’d begin -again about the pillers, and say how he wished he had brought a couple -of feathers from home, to lay on, so he could have got some rest. He had -pulled out a little wad of cotton-battin’ before we went to bed to -convince me of their ingredents. - -But I says to him: “Josiah Allen, a easy conscience can rest even on -cotton-battin’ pillers,” and I added in awful meanin’ tones, “_I_ am -sleepy, Josiah Allen, and want to go to sleep. It is time,” says I with -dignity, “that we was both reposin’ in the arms of Morphine.” - -Nothin’ quells him down quicker than to have me talk in a classical high -learnt way, and in a few minutes he was fast asleep. But though, as I -told Josiah, my conscience was at rest and I felt sleepy, the musquitoes -was _dretful_, and I don’t know as a guilty conscience could roust -anybody up much more, or gall anybody more fearfully. They was truly -tegus. And then the partition bein’ but thin, I could hear folks a -walkin’ all night—and take it with their trampin’ and the musquitoes -payin’ so much attention to me, I never got no good sleep ’till most -mornin’; but _then_ I got a good nap, and felt considerable chirk when I -got up. We eat our breakfast in pretty good season and laid out to git a -early start. - -I didn’t have but one drawback worth mentionin’ and that was, I had lost -one eye out of my specks somewhere on our way from Melankton Spicer’ses, -and I told Josiah I felt mortified, after I had lotted so on seein’ the -Sentinal, to think I had got to see him with one eye out; says he: “I -guess you’ll see enough with _one_ eye before night.” - -Then I put on my things and we sot sail. It was a lovely mornin’ though -considerable warm, and I felt well, and almost gay in spirits as we -wended our way on our long and tegus journey from our room to the -outside of the house; (we was goin’ to walk afoot to the Sentinal, the -distance bein’ but short and triflin’) but at last we reached the -piazza, and emerged into the street; I see that every man, woman and -child was there in that identical street, and I thought to myself, there -haint no Sentinal to-day, and everybody has come out into this street -for a walk. I knew it stood to reason that if there _had_ been a -Sentinal there would have been one or two men or wimmin attendin’ to it, -and I knew that every man woman and child on the hull face of the globe -was right there before me, and behind me, and by the side of me, and -fillin’ the street full, walkin’ afoot, and up in big covered wagons, -all over ’em, on the inside, and hangin’ on to the outside, as thick as -bees a swarmin’. Some of the horses was hitched ahead of each other, I -s’pose so they could slip through the crowd easier. I couldn’t see the -village hardly any owin’ to the crowd a crushin’ of me; but from what -little I _did_ see, it was perfectly beautiful. I see they had fixed up -for us, they had whitewashed all their door-steps, and winderblinds, -white as snow, and trimmed the latter all off with black ribbin strings. - -Everything looked lovely and gay, and I thought as I walked along, -Jonesville couldn’t compare with it for size and grandeur. I was a -walkin’ along, crowded in body, but happy in mind, when all of a sudden -a thought come to me that goared me worse than any elbo or umberell that -had pierced my ribs sense we sot out from the tarvern. Thinks’es I all -of a sudden; mebby they have put off the Sentinal ’till I come: mebby I -have disappointed the Nation, and belated ’em, and put ’em to trouble. - -This was a sad thought and wore on my mind considerable, and made me -almost forget for the time bein’ my bodily sufferin’s as they pushed me -this way and that, and goared me in the side with parasols and -umberells, and carried off the tabs of my mantilly as far as they would -go in every direction, and shoved, and stamped, and crowded. I declare I -was tore to pieces in mind and body, when I arrove at last at the -entrance to the grounds. The crowd was fearful here, and the yells of -different kinds was distractive; one conceited little creeter catched -right holt of the tabs of my mantilly, and yelled right up in my face: -“Wont you have a guide? Buy a guide mom to the Sentinal.” And seven or -eight others was a yellin’ the same thing to me, the impudent creeters; -I jest turned round and faced the one that had got holt of my cape, and -says I: - -“Leggo of my tabs!” - -He wouldn’t leggo; he stood and yelled out right up in my face, “Buy a -guide, you haint got no guide!” - -Says I with dignity, “Yes I have; duty is my guide and also Josiah; and -now,” says I firmly, “if you don’t leggo of my tabs, I’ll _make_ you -leggo.” My mean skairt him; he leggo, and I follered on after my Josiah; -but where _was_ Josiah? I couldn’t see him; in tusslin with that -impudent creeter over my cape, my companion had got carried by the crowd -out of my sight. Oh! the agony of that half a moment; I turned and says -to a policeman in almost agonizin’ tones: - -“Where is my Josiah?” - -He looked very polite at me, and says he: - -“I don’t know.” - -Says I, “Find him for me instantly! Have you the heart to stand still -and see husbands and wives parted away from each other? Have you any -principle about you? Have you got entirely out of pity?” - -Says he with the same polite look, “I don’t know.” - -“Have you a wife?” says I in thrillin’ axents: “Have you any childern?” - -Says he, “I don’t know.” - -I had heerd that there wasn’t no information to be extracted from ’em as -a class, and I give up; and I don’t know what my next move would have -been, if I hadn’t catched sight of that beloved face and that old -familiar hat in front of me; I hastened forred and kep’ considerable -calm in mind, while my body was bein’ crowded and pushed round, for I -thought if my conjectures was true they would have reason enough to goar -me. - -[Illustration: IN THE CROWD.] - -But presently, or about that time we found ourselves carried by the -crowd, and stranded (as it were) before some little places that looked -some like the place the ticket agent looked from at Betsey Bobbet and -me, when we bought our tickets for New York village; and I begun to feel -easier in my mind, for they seemed to be purchasin’ tickets for the -Sentinal. There was one place for wimmen, and one for men, not but a -little ways apart; and my Josiah and me kinder divided up and waited our -turn, and when he got a chance I see him step up in a peaceable way and -ask how much a ticket cost. - -“Fifty cents for a adult,” says the man. - -Says Josiah, “I haint a adult.” - -Says the man, “You be.” - -Josiah looked as if he would sink to be accused—right there in -company—of sunthin’ he never was guilty of in the world; it took him so -aback that he couldn’t say another word to defend himself; he looked as -mortified and sheepish as any black sheep I ever laid eyes on; and I -jest stepped forred and took his part—for it madded me to see my pardner -so brow-beat and imposed upon. Again Josiah says in a meachin’ way, for -as mortified as he felt he seemed determined to stick to the truth, and -not own up to what he wasn’t guilty of. “I haint a adult,” says he. - -“No!” says I, “anybody that says that of my pardner, says what they -can’t prove. Josiah Allen is a likely man; his character stands firm; he -never had no such name, and it can’t be proved onto him; he is as sound -moralled a man as you will find in Jonesville or the world!” - -“I mean,” says the man, “50 cents for everybody except childern carried -in the arms.” - -“Well,” says I out of all manner of patience with him, “why didn’t you -say so in the first on’t, and not go to hintin’ and insinuatin’.” - -He tried to turn it off in a laugh, but his face turned red as blood, -and well it might; tryin’ to break down a likely man’s character and -gettin’ found out in the mean caper. Josiah took out a dollar bill and -handed it to him, and he handed back sunthin’ which was tickets as -Josiah s’posed; but when he handed me one soon afterwards or -thereabouts, I see they was two fifty cent bills. Josiah was dumbfounded -and so was I; but I spoke right out and says I, “That mean creeter is -tryin’ to make us trouble, or else he is tryin’ to hush it up, and bribe -us not to tell of his low lived conduct.” Says I firmly, “Less go right -back and give him back his money and command him to give us a lawful -ticket, and tell him we haint to be bought or sold; that our principles -are elevated and we are on a tower.” - -[Sidenote: GOOD LAND! GOOD LAND! AND GOOD LAND!] - -So we went back again; and oh the sufferin’s of that season; if our -agony was great when we was bore along by the crowd, what was our -sufferin’s when we was stemmin’ our way ag’inst it. Two or three times -my companion would have sunk beneath his burdens, but boyed up by my -principle I held him up (as it were) and at last almost completely -exhausted and wore out, and our faces covered with prespiration we stood -before him again. He looked mad and cross, but tried to turn it off in a -laugh when Josiah told him our business, and handed him back the money. -He said it was all right and told us to give the money to a man near the -turn stile and go in. I see he was in earnest, so I told Josiah we would -go back and try it, and we did, and found it was jest as he said, but -there was a great mystery to it; we handed out fifty cents a piece to a -man, and he dropped it down through a little slit in a counter; and a -gate that looked some like my new fashioned clothes bars, sort o’ turned -round with us and let us in one at a time; and the minute I was inside I -see my gloomy forebodin’s had been in vain—they hadn’t put off the -Sentinal for me! That was my first glad thought; but my very next -thought was, Good land! and Good land! and Good land! Them was my very -first words, and they didn’t express my feelin’s a half or even a -quarter. Why, comin’ right out of that contracted and crushin’ crowd, it -seemed as if the place we found ourselves in was as roomy and spacious -as the desert of Sarah, s’posen she, the desert, was fixed off into a -perfect garden of beauty, free for anybody to wander round and git lost -in. - -And the majestic Main Buildin’ that nearly loomed up in front of us! -Why! if old Ocian herself, had turned into glass, and wood-work, and -cast-iron, and shinin’ ruffs, and towers, and flags, and statutes, and -everything, and made a glitterin’ palace of herself, it couldn’t, (as it -were) have looked any more grand and imposin’ and roomy; and if every -sand by the seashore had jumped up and put on a bunnet or hat as the -case may be, there couldn’t have been a bigger crowd (seeminly) than -there was a passin’ into it, and a passin’ by, and a paradin’ round -Josiah and me. - -Under these strange and almost apaulin’ circumstances, is it any wonder -that I stood stun still, and said, out of the very depths of my heart, -the only words I could think of, that would any where nigh express my -feelins, and they was “Good land!” - -But as my senses begun to come back to me, my next thought was, as I -looked round on every side of me, “Truly did my Josiah say, that I could -see enough with one eye;” and jest then a band commenced playin’ the -“Star Spangled Banner.” And hearin’ that soul stirrin’ music, and seein’ -that very banner a wavin’ and floatin’ out, as if all the blue sky and -rainbows sense Noah’s rainbow was cut up into its glorious stripes, with -the hull stars of heaven a shinin’ on ’em,—why, as my faculties come -back to me, a seein’ what I see—and hearin’ what I heerd, I thought of -my 4 fathers, them 4 old fathers, whose weak hands had first unfurled -that banner to the angry breeze, and thinks’es I, I would be willin’ to -change places with them 4 old men right here on the spot, to let ’em see -in the bright sunshine of 1876, what they done in the cloudy darkness of -1776. - -I felt these feelin’s for I persume most a minute. But nobody—however -strong principle may soar up in ’em—can be willin’ to die off when it -haint a goin’ to be any particular benefit to anybody; they can’t feel -so for any length of time, especially in such a strange and almost -curious time as this was; souls may soar, but heart clings to heart—I -thought of Josiah and without sayin’ a word to him, or askin’ his -consent, I jest reached out my arm and locked arms with him for the -first time in goin’ on thirteen years—not sense we had went to -grandfather Smith’s funeral, and walked in the procession. - -He begun to nestle round and wiggle his arm to make me leggo, but I hung -on tight and never minded his worrysome actions, and finally he come out -plain and says he: - -“What is the use of lockin’ arms Samantha, it will make talk.” - -Says I in a deep warnin’ voice, “Do you keep still, or you will be a -lost Josiah.” Says I, firmly, “I think more of my pardner than I do of -the speech of people, and if this endless host and countless multitude -swallers us down, and we are never heard from again in Jonesville or the -world, we will be swallered down together Josiah Allen,—a sweet thought -to me.” - -[Sidenote: PATRONIZIN’ THE RAILROAD] - -So we walked round, lockin’ arms, and not sensin’ of it, (as it were) a -lookin’ on the grandeur and imposin’ doins on every side of us. -Presently, or not fur from that time—for truly I could not keep a -correct run of the time of day, feelin’ as I did—I told Josiah that we -would take the cars and ride round the Sentinal; there was a little -railroad a purpose. So we crossed a square—green as green grass could -make it—and all of a sudden I felt Josiah give a shudder, and heerd his -teeth chatter; he was lookin’ at that fearfully wonderful statute of -Washington crossin’ the Deleware. Oh dear! what a situation George was -in. - -Then he hunched me again, to look at a fountain made they say to show -off light and water. Three handsome female girls a holdin’ up a bowl or -rather a platter, bigger than any platter I ever see, to catch the water -other female wimmin’ was a pourin’ down into it; and as many as ten -globe lamps, a bein’ held up by beautiful arms. I’ll bet the hull on it -was forty feet high, and I don’t know but more. Josiah would have staid -there some time if I had encouraged him in it; he said with a dreamy -look, that them girls was first-rate lookin’, but he should think their -arms would ache a holdin’ up that platter and them big lamps. But says -I, “Josiah Allen you haint no time to spend a pityin’ cast-iron wimmen -in such a time as this, or admirin’ of em;” so I hurried him onwards to -one of the stations of the railroad, and we paid five cents apiece and -they let us up into the cars, and oh, how lovely everything did look as -we rode onwards, drawed by as stiddy and smart a little enjun as ever I -see hitched to a car. How cool and wet the lake did look on that hot -day, with its great fountain sprayin’ out the water in so many different -sprays, as we passed between it and the green, level grass all flowered -off with gorgeous flower beds. - -Anon, (or nearly that time) the enjun stopped before the Woman’s -Pavilion—a noble big buildin’ that filled me with such proud and lofty -emotions as I looked at it, that I don’t know to what height I should -have soared up to a gazin’ on it, and thinkin’ of the sect that built -it, if one of them very sect weighin’ about three hundred and fifty, in -gittin’ out of the car, hadn’t stepped on my foot and crushed it so -fearfully that instinctively my emotions was brought right down to the -ends of my toes. In two minutes more, or two and a-half, we went round -the head of the dell, and though my foot still felt the effects of -tramplin’, I didn’t sense it, as I looked down the beautiful shady -paths, all a seemin’ to lead to some handsome buildin’ and then up at -the Agricultural Buildin’, big enough (seeminly) for old Agriculture and -all his family all over the country to settle down and live in; and then -we went on a little further by a cheese and butter house, and Brewers’ -Hall. And then the enjun turned round and we went back most to the -Woman’s Pavilion, and then sailed off down the avenue of State Buildins, -by Machinery Hall (big enough for every machine in the world, and -several of the planetary system’s machines, as it were) clear the hull -length of this buildin’, back to the place we started from. - -Here Josiah would have got out, ruther than paid five cents more; but I -says to him, “Never before, Josiah Allen did five cents buy pleasure for -me any where near the size and heft of this pleasure;” and I added -kindly but firmly, “I am goin’ round again Josiah Allen.” He argued -some, but I stood firm, and round we went again’, and then twice more -which made four. I paid for the two last rides out of my own pocket, and -didn’t begreech the money. No sooner would we go by one grand majestic -buildin’ and mebby a few smaller ones, but perfectly beautiful, than -another one would rise up before us seeminly still more majesticer than -the last one. - -And we wouldn’t no more than git our mouths well open with great -astonishment and admiration and almost extacy, and our specks well sot -on ’em, before another one would rise up before us, and we with our -mouths not yet shet up from the last one. Oh dear! what a time we did -have in our 2 minds. And seein’ what I see wouldn’t have been half so -much, if I hadn’t had such a immense quantity of emotions; and every one -of ’em the very biggest and noblest size they make. Eloquent, happy -emotions of patriotism and grand pride in my Nation’s honor, and -majesty, and power, and glory. - -Oh! what a time I did have a settin’ there crowded in body but soarin’ -in soul; the eye of my speck a calmly gazin’ into the faces environin’ -of me round, and not seein’ of em, (as it were) but seein’ with my -mind’s eye the Spirit of ’76, a risin’ up through the ghastly clouds of -war, a misty shape that Hope could jest make out; a pale face, and -shadowy hands with a little handful of stars and stripes most slippin’ -out of ’em. - -And then to see that face growin’ brighter and brighter, and more -loftier and inspired; to see both of them hands reached heavenward in -triumph, holdin’ firm clasped above her head the stars and the stripes a -floatin’ out over the hull land; to see them eyes full of glory and -mystery bent forever onwards and outwards, a lookin’ on sunthin’ I -couldn’t see if I had both eyes to my specks; to see that lofty brow -crowned with the Star of Empire, and that majestic form a floatin’ in -triumph from the Atlantic over the Rocky mountains, clear to the Golden -Gate, while the radiance of that star, a burnin’ on that almost inspired -forward, sheds a light ahead over the deep waters to some still grander -future; and then to see them deep mysterious eyes of glory and prophecy -a follerin’ that light outward and onward, a seein’ what I couldn’t see, -nor Josiah, nor anybody. - -I kep’ a feelin’ nobler and nobler every minute, and finally I told -Josiah of my own accord that I wanted to git out of that little -contracted car, and walk afoot again. So we got out and roamed round, -walkin’ afoot down the broad noble paths, by buildins some that looked -you square in the face, some a steppin’ off sideways, (seeminly) some -sot down flat on the ground, sort o’ solid and heavy as if they had sot -down for good, and some standin’ up on tip-toe (as it were) on the top -of big high steps, as if they was a startin’ off somewhere a visitin’; -and some of the curiousest shaped ones I ever see, with their ruffs -pinted up, with flags a flyin’ like big darnin’ needles threaded with -red, white, and blue; some sort o’ leanin’ over as if they was a -meditatin’; some ruffs shaped like a sheep’s head night-cap, with a -cross standin’ up out of the crown; some long ruffs supportin’ hull rows -of little ruffs like offsprings. Some Gabriel ends loftier and -majesticer than you can think on; some dretful kinder peaked up and -polite lookin’. - -Some of the housen was plain and glossy on the sides, some criss-crossed -off, some up and down, some sideways. There was housen of every color -that ever was colored, with winders of every shape that ever a pain was -cut into, and every sort of ornament that ever a house was trimmed off -with. Why some of ’em seemed to be clear ornament, and nothin’ else. -There was one in particular, with a flight of stairs on each side and -some little slender pillows, that seemed to be clear trimmin’. It looked -as light as if it was made of air and sunshine and ornament—which it was -mostly. I says to Josiah: “That would be a beautiful home for summer, -Josiah, but it would be too cold and windy in the winter season for me.” -A young woman, sort o’ vacant lookin’, but dressed up slick spoke out to -me, and says in a sort of a uppish tone: - -“It haint a house, it is a music stand.” - -Says I, “It haint a stand.” - -Says she, “It is.” - -But I wasn’t a goin’ to be brow-beat by her, so I says in a dignified -tone: - -“Young woman I have seen furniture and housen stuff when you was in -Nonentity, and I guess I know a stand when I see it.” Says I, “I had two -black cherry stands with curly maple drawers, with my settin’ out, and I -helped Josiah pick out a noble bass-wood stand for Tirzah Ann when she -was married and I say that haint a stand.” - -Says she, “It is; don’t you see the Muse on top with the lyre.” - -But I wouldn’t look up, I had too much dignity, and I resented deeply -her tryin’ to lie to me so, and I jest looked at her keenly, and says I: -“I can see liars without searchin’ for ’em on the top of housen.” - -Says she, “I meant one of the Muses; one of Jupiter and Mnemosyne’s -daughters, with her lyre?” - -Says I firmly, “I don’t care whose daughters they be. I don’t think no -more of a liar because they happen to have a likely father and mother. I -abominate ’em, and always did.” - -I looked very sharp at her, and she felt it; her face looked red as -blood, and all swelled up with mortification. But truly I had no time to -waste on story tellers, or muse on their lies. Such sights as I see, -such grand and imposin’ grandeur, such beautiful and soarin’ beauty; I -wondered whether Paradise could have looked much better, and more -foamin’; and if it did, I wondered more and more how Eve (a distant -relative of mine on my mother’s side) could have done what she did do. -As we walked along a broad and shady path I says: - -“Never, never did I feel towards E Pluribus as I do to-day, Josiah. When -I think of that old map of Grandfather Smith’s, and think how E Pluribus -was huddled down there close to the shore, so insignificant and skairt -lookin’ that it seemed as if it wouldn’t take but a very few more -war-whoops and hatchets to tumble him right off into the Atlantic to -drownd himself. And then to think how that old man has got up and spread -himself out from ocian to ocian, to look round here and see this -Sentinal a tellin’ to all the world how he has prospered;” says I, -“never never did I feel towards E Pluribus U, as I do to-day;” and says -I in tones tremblin’ with pride and thankfulness, “how do _you_ feel -Josiah Allen?” - -Says he firmly, “I feel as hungry as a bear.” - -I calmly took two cookies out of my pocket and handed them to him, and -kep’ right on: “Never! never, did I realize the size, the grandeur, the -loftiness, of E Pluribus as I do now; how high and lofty he stands, -Josiah Allen; how forehanded he has got.” - -My lofty episodin’ tone was ruther loud, and a by stander who had been a -standin’ behind me unbeknown to me spoke up and says he: - -“Yes, E Pluribus has got pretty well off, but what do you think Madam of -the rings he wears on his honored fingers? What do you think of his -choosin’ Tweed for raiment? What do you think of his wearin’ such dirty -clothin’ as he has wore of late, and so thin too, so awfully thin.” - -I declare for’t, I was most mad to think of anybodys tryin’ to bring me -down from the height I stood upon, by talkin’ about store clothes and -jewelry; but bein’ very polite in my demeanor, I answered him mildly, -that I didn’t believe in anybodys wearin’ dirty clothes, and I never had -no opinion of Tweed, nor none of that kind of cloth; it was slazy, and -liable to drop all to pieces, and I’d ruther look further and pay more -for cloth that was firmer and would stand more of a strain. - -“Yes,” says he, “that is jest my opinion, and I think if E Pluribus -wants to preserve his health he must keep cleaner, and be a little more -careful about the material he chooses to protect his honored form; and -in my opinion, he would look fur better if he didn’t wear so many rings -on his venerable fingers; money rings; and wheat rings; and railroad -rings.” He went on and named over a hull lot of jewelry, but I thought -to myself that he was makin’ a little too free to talk with a perfect -stranger, and I answered him in pretty cold tones: - -Says I, “I never approved of old men’s wearin’ jewelry;” and says I, in -still more frigid tones, “I never, even in my young days thought a man -looked any the better for wearin’ ear-rings;” then I drew Josiah onwards -down a path that looked shady, and considerable still and quiet; but -jest as we moved on a man standin’ in front of us spoke up in a awe -struck tone, and says he: - -“That gentleman that jest spoke to you was a English Lord.” - -“Well,” says I, “Lord or no lord, I don’t over and above like his looks; -he looks smart, but kinder mean.” - -Jest then all of a sudden, on happenin’ to turn the eye of my speck onto -a little bench under a shade tree, I see settin’ there a friend I knew; -I see a face that telescopes are bein’ aimed at by the envious to spy -out every little freckle, spot and wrinkle; (and where is there a -complexion however light, that can stand firm under a telescope, and the -strong glarin’ light of the present time, without showin’ a wrinkle?) It -was the face of a man I respected, and almost loved, (a meetin’ house -love, calm, yet firm as a settin’ hen.) - -Without sayin’ a word, I jest drawd Josiah right up in front of him. At -the first glance he didn’t know me, but I jest made him a noble curchy, -and says I: “Ulysses how do you?” Says I, “The last time I see you I had -the honor to rescue you from pain and poetry and Betsey Bobbet.” - -Before I could say another word he took the cigar he had in his lips -with one hand and reached out the other, and shook hands with me almost -warmly. - -“Josiah Allen’s wife, my preserver! I am glad to meet you.” - -Then and there I introduced Josiah; but I was sorry to see at that -moment that the knowledge that he was a talkin’ with the President of -the United States, made him act bashful and meachin’; but I was that -inspired and lifted up, that even my pardner’s meachin’ and almost -foolish mean didn’t seem to have no effect on me. I spoke right out and -says I: - -“Ulysses, I never was so proud of my Nation before in my hull life as I -be now, and never did I feel such feelin’s for my 4 fathers. What a -undertakin’ they undertook! When a thing is done, and you are a standin’ -up on the results safe and happy, then you feel well, and at rest; but -the curious time, and the solemn time, is when the thing haint done, and -you are a settin’ out to do it, with the risk and the uncertainty before -you. When you are a steppin’ off in the darkness and don’t have no idee -whether you are a steppin’ on sunthin’, or on nothin’; no idee where you -are a comin’ to next. I’ve got lost in our suller several times when my -candle went out, and it was a curious feelin’, Ulysses, to grope our way -along in the dark not knowin’ whether we would come out all right to the -bottom of the stairs, or come up sudden ag’inst the wall, or the pork -barrell. I’ve fell flat a number of times, when I thought I was a -steppin’ high, and doin’ the best I could; when you have reached the -stairs and git holt of ’em, and Josiah has opened the door and stands -there with a candle in his hand, then you feel well and safe, but you -can’t forgit your curious feelin’s when you was in the dark, a gropin’ -and a feelin’ and not knowin’ where you was a goin’ to. - -“Now, there was a time when the colonies was a gropin’ their way along -in the dark, not knowin’ where the next step would take ’em to—whether -they would come out to the stairs that led up to Freedom and Liberty and -happiness, or come up sudden and hard ag’inst the wall of defeat. They -was walkin’ a slender, slippery pathway, and if they slipped off they -knew black waters was under ’em, deep black waters, to drownd them and -their posterity in. They fell a number of times, but they got up again -nobly; they held firm, and stepped high, and at last they groped their -way to the stairs that led up to Liberty. And by God’s help, by prayer -and hard work, they mounted them stairs; and then another long flight of -lofty stairs was before ’em; and they rose them stairs, and have gone up -on ’em, higher and higher, ever sense to national power, and honor, and -glory. And now let ’em hold firm and examine the platform they are a -standin’ on.” - -Ulysses smoked his cigar with a very thoughtful and attentive smoke. And -oh! how sort o’ solemn and martyr-like my tone was as I went on a -talkin’ to him, and a thinkin’ to myself: Here I be, advisin’ the Nation -for its good—a performin’ my mission, and advisin’ the United States, E -Pluribus Unim, through its chief magistrate. I felt noble and curious, -fearfully so, as I continued on: - -“Oh! how awful it would be for ’em, Ulysses, a standin’ up on the height -they stand up on, if political rottenness should crumble away any of the -tall proud ladder that holds ’em up. Oh! how it would hurt ’em to fall -down flat, and lay on their backs with the ladder and platform on top of -’em. Let ’em be careful, and let ’em be prayerful; let ’em examine every -inch of the lumber that they are a standin’ on; if there is a rotten -spot in it, or a weak spot, or a suspicious spot, let ’em spurn it -nobly; let ’em not ask wildly and blindly: ‘Did this board grow in -Republican forests, or did it grow in Democratic swamps?’ Let ’em throw -that question down, and trample on it; and let ’em ask this question -only, and let ’em ask it in a firm loud voice: ‘_Is it a sound board?_’ - -“And let ’em git a straight plain answer to it, before they set foot on -it. Good land! The idee of shettin’ your eyes blindly, and runnin’ up a -rascal because he happens to belong to your party. As for me, when I -hold a rose I don’t care a cent whether it grew in a marble basin, or in -the corner of a rail fence; I only ask myself calmly, is it fresh and -sweet? If it is, I treasure it highly; if it is wormy and rotten at the -heart, I spurn it from me almost indignantly. - -“I advise this Nation as a friend and well wisher, to worship the true -God, and not make a God of party and bow down to it. I advise it to -choose men for leaders, who are true, and honest and God-fearin’. Men -who are more careful of their character than of their reputation; more -careful to have the National capitol clean on the inside than to flower -off the front gate with brass nails; more sot on the Nation’s well-bein’ -and prosperity, than on a big pocket-book, or a post-office and some -minin’ and railroad shares for that brother-in-law; more anxious to have -a white soul, than to white-wash their sepulchres. If the Nation votes -for bad men, how does it expect to have good laws?” says I almost -wildly. “Tell me, Ulysses, and tell me plainly; how can you expect to be -led onward in a straight path by a blind man? How can you obtain figs -from thistles, or anything to carry from an ort? - -“If this Nation trusts God, and prizes the great gift our 4 fathers died -to leave us as it ort to be prized, who can paint the glory and splendor -before it. It is the home of the oppressed, and (when its laws relatin’ -to wimmen are changed slightly) the true and only land of liberty and -freedom; its virtues ort to be grand and lofty and picturesque—on a big -noble New World plan. It ort to be as rich in goodness, as its earth is -rich in gold and silver and preciousness. Its dignity and calmness ort -to be wide and level and even, like its boundless praries; and at the -same time, it ort to have brilliant, unexpected streaks and flashes of -dazzlin’ generosities, jest like its flashin’ water-falls. Its -principles ort to be as firm and solid and high toned and soarin’ as the -biggest mountain peaks on the Yo Semitry; and these solid virtues ort to -be trimmed and ornamented off with consideration for the rights of -others, humanity, charity, courtesy and etcetery, and they ort to be -jest as pinted and as ever-green as the big pines them firm old -mountains have trimmed themselves off with. It should be jest as set on -follerin’ the right, and headed jest as strong that way, and be jest as -deep and earnest in that flow as Niagara is in hern; turnin’ not to the -right hand nor to the left, not multiplyin’ words nor foolin’, but jest -keep on a mindin’ its own business, and floodin’ right on.” - -[Illustration: SAMANTHA ADVISIN’ PRESIDENT GRANT.] - -[Sidenote: I ADVISE THE NATION THOUGH ITS GREAT MEN] - -And then I advised the Nation (through Ulysses,) what to do in the great -cause of Wimmen’s Rights. I talked eloquent on that subject, and in -closin’ up I drawed his mind back a few years to the time when a great -war was goin’ on between justice and injustice, and how God wrought out -of it the freedom of a race, before He gave the victory. I reminded him -that another great battle was goin’ on now between temperance and -intemperance, and how, in that warfare, I believed God was helpin’ -another race of human female beins to liberty; by showin’ to man how He -enabled _them_ to win greater victories than had ever crowned _man’s_ -efforts, and provin’ what _they_ would do for God and humanity if the -power was given them. I told him I didn’t want to scare him or the -Nation, but still it wouldn’t do no hurt for ’em to think back how God -had kep’ that oppressed race from all harm while the warfare for ’em was -a goin’ on, while thousands of them who had unjestly denied them their -rights went down on the battle-field; and I hinted to him in a kind of a -blind way, that it wouldn’t do no harm for the Nation once in a while to -read over that old story of Pharioh; I told him—not knowin’ how well off -they was for such readin’ in Washington—that he would find that story in -the Bible. - -I talked about the Heathen Chinee; I told him it seemed jest about as -impossible to git a stun to keep company with a turnip, and make it its -bride as to git a Chinee to fall in love with our institutions and -foller ’em; and after a man had tried to git water and oil to mix in a -friendly and sociable way—after he has sot and stirred ’em, and sweat -over ’em for weeks and weeks, I don’t know as he would be to blame to -empty the basin out for good; but then when I’d think again, I’d know it -was cruel and awful to turn anybody out doors, (as it were) especially a -heathen. And I knew I never could have the heart to do it, never in the -world. So says I, “I cannot advise the Nation what to do. It must try to -git along in this thing, without my tellin’ it what to do; it must think -it over and do the very best it can.” - -But on the warlike fightin’ question, I come out strong; I knew jest -what advice to give the Nation, and I give it freely without money, and -without price. - -Says I, “I should think the Nations would all be perfectly ashamed of -themselves to git together to show off their civilization and progress, -when they hold on to that most barbarious of all barbarism, that ever -come from Barbery. The most cruel and awful and the most simple too; -why,” says I, “you’d whip a lot of school childern that would go to -settlin’ their quarrels with their jack knives; you’d make ’em leave it -out to their teacher, or the trustees, or somebody; you’d spank ’em till -their nose bled if they didn’t, and,” says I, “childern ort to grow -wiser as they grow older instead of foolisher; it haint a mite handsomer -in grown folks than it is in childern.” - -Says I, “Think how those bloody warfares are powerful for all sorts of -evils and crimes; how they turn human beins into wild beasts of prey; -think how humanity, and mercy, and purity and all goodness are trod down -under the feet of the great armys; and how the more ghastly army of -pestilence, and disease, and crime, and want, foller on after them—a -phantom host shadderin’ the land for years, mightier for evil than the -army they foller. Why Ulysses, I couldn’t begin to tell all the horrers -and evils of war, not if I should stand here and talk to you till the -year 1900; for it can’t be told not by mortal tongue. It is a language -writ in broken hearts, and despair, and want, and agony, and madness, -and crime, and death, and it takes them to read it.” - -Ulysses haint much of a talker, but he took his cigar out of his mouth, -and says he mildly: “How will Nations settle their difficulties then?” - -“Why,” says I, “leave it out to some good man to decide upon. Let ’em -have a honorable-minded Peace Commissioner. Why,” says I, “if it wasn’t -for havin’ everything else under the sun on my hands, I would be one -myself, and not charge a cent for my trouble.” - -The Nation, (through Ulysses) seemed to take my advice first-rate; he -stood it like a major, and sot peacefully and smoked that cigar in as -friendly and meditatin’ a way as I ever see one smoked, and he said I -spoke his mind about the Peace Commissioners. And then I spoke up and -says I: - -“Ulysses, I must also speak to you about Lo.” - -“Lo who?” says he. - -“Why,” says I, “Lo, the poor Injun.” - -The minute I said Injun, he give a kind of a groan, and begun to look as -fractious and worrysome as I ever see Josiah look, and says he: - -“Darn Lo, anyway.” - -“Well,” says I, “when I look round here, and see how nobly Uncle Sam has -stood up and spread himself out here, see what wonders of glory and -enchantment he has wrought for his own race, it don’t seem to me that I -can bear to see him a settin’ down on the Injun race, a tryin’ to choke -’em to death. Samuel never took a posture that I hated to see worse than -that posture. It haint Christian nor even dignified.” - -He looked very fractious, very, and he snapped out: - -“He has got to take that posture or be scalped.” - -“If Samuel would let _me_ pick out postures for him, I would have him -stand up so far above Lo—in mercy, and justice, and patience, and -truth,—that he couldn’t reach up to his scalp; and standin’ up on that -height, he might deal less in glass beads, and more in common honesty,” -says I mildly. - -But again Ulysses looked me full in the eye of my speck, and says he -firmly: - -“Darn Lo, anyway;” and at that same minute Josiah whispered to me: “Lo -haint no nearer starvin’ than I am this minute.” - -He did look almost famishin’; and so tellin’ Ulysses to give my love to -Julia, and my best respects to Mr. Dents’es folks, and Fred and his -wife, and be sure and take good care of Nelly’s baby, I curchied to him -nobly and bid him good-bye. - -So we wended our way along, the eye of my speck takin’ in the heavenly -beauty of the scene, when all of a sudden Josiah spoke up, and says he: -“What a pity it is that they are a goin’ to licence the Sentinal.” - -I stopped stun still, leggo of his arm, and turned right round and faced -my pardner. “Licence the Sentinal, Josiah Allen!” says I. - -“Yes,” says he, “they be, and they are tryin’ hard not to have no Sunday -neither.” - -“A tryin’ to have the Sentinal not keep Sunday?” - -“Yes,” says he. - -Says I firmly, “Who is the man to go to, to advise the Nation through in -this matter? Never! never! did my mission as a Advisor soar up before me -more promiscously. Who is the man Josiah Allen?” - -Says Josiah, “I have heerd that Gen. Hawley is the head one. But it -haint his doin’s; he has been tewed at, night and day.” - -I drawed my companion onwards, almost wildly, he a hangin’ back and in -pitiful axents, sayin’ to me: - -“Do less go back to the tarvern Samantha and git sunthin’ to eat before -we traipse off any further; do you want me to faint away on your hands?” - -Says I, “You must have a different appetite from what _I_ have, Josiah -Allen, if you can swaller your conscience and set down at your ease, -while the Nation is a destroyin’ herself. I _must_ advise her about this -matter instantly and at once, before it is too late. But you can go home -if you want to. Principle will be my pardner, and go a lockin’ arms with -me.” - -“I shall go if _you_ do,” says he in a cross surly voice. “I s’pose I -can starve it out;” and then he says almost mekanically, (as it were,) -“Gen. Hawley is a handsome feller, they say.” - -“Well,” says I in a almost dry tone, “you needn’t worry about that; what -if he is? I should be ashamed of myself Josiah Allen, to go to bein’ -jealous in such a time as this.” - -“Who said I _was_?” says he. - -I didn’t multiply no more words, and a policeman happenin’ to come along -that minute, I says to him: - -“Can you tell me where to find Gen. Hawley?” - -Says he, “You will probably find him in the ‘Buro of Installation.’” - -“In a _buro_!” says I coldly. “Do you s’pose young man, that I am a -goin’ to crawlin’ and creepin’ round into buro draws? Do you s’pose, at -my age, and with my dignity I’m a goin’ to foller any man into a buro? -Gropin’ round, tryin’ to find somebody in a buro draw.” - -[Sidenote: INTERVIEW WITH GEN. HAWLEY] - -His face looked red—he see I wasn’t to be imposed upon—and he pinted out -the room where we should be apt to find him, he a goin’ most there with -us; and anon, or about that time, I found myself in the presence of Gen. -Hawley, a shakin’ hands with him and a introducin’ Josiah. He was -lookin’ over a lot of papers, but he looked up dretful sort o’ pleasant, -and in that tryin’ and almost curious time, I couldn’t help thinkin’ -that Josiah was in the right on’t about his looks; for never, on a -tower, or off on it, did I ever see a franker, nobler, honester, well -meanin’er face than hisen. I never asked him whether he was enjoyin’ -good health, or poor, but I says right out: “Joseph,” (I knew his name -was Joseph, and I thought he would take it more friendly in me if I -called him that, and it would look more familiar in me—as if my noble -mission didn’t make me feel above him.) “Joseph,” says I, “I have come -to advise you as a P. A. about what I have discovered as a P. I.” - -He looked up at me from the awful pile of papers, sort o’ dreamy and -wonderin’, and I come out plainer still, and says I, “Joseph, tell me; -is it true that the Nation has licenced the Sentinal to git drunk, and -not to keep no Sundays?” And says I, “Haint it the time for the Nation, -if ever, for her to put her best foot forred, and if she has got any -remnants of Puritan habits, and religion, and solid principles, to show -’em off? Haint it time to brush the dirt and dust off of Plymouth Rock, -and let the world git a glimpse of the old original stun? Why,” says I, -“if the Mayflower could float back again from the past, and them old -Mayflowers should hear what this Nation is a doin’, they would say they -was glad they was dead.” - -[Illustration: INTERVIEW WITH GOV. HAWLEY] - -Joseph looked as if he felt what I said deeply. But he went on in a sort -of apologisin’ way, about his wantin’ to treat our fureign guests with -courtesy—and some of them was accustomed to beer and wine-drinkin’ to -home, and wasn’t in the habit of havin’ Sundays, and so 4th and so 4th. - -“But,” says I in tremblin’ tones: “when a mother is weepin’ over the -ruin of what was once her son, and tracin’ back his first love of strong -drink to this place of beauty and enchantment, it wont remove her agony -nor hisen, to think it was done to please the German, Dutch, or Tunicks, -or even Turkeys.” Says I, “If the Nation gives her lawful consent and -lets the Sentinal drink all the beer and wine it wants to in 1876, in -1976 she will reap the seed she is a plantin’ now; and if you happen to -see me then, Joseph, you tell me if I haint in the right on’t. And then, -not havin’ no Sundays! I never in my hull life see anything look so -shiftless,—when we haint been out of Sundays for 1800 years, to all flat -out now and not have none,—it would look poor as poverty in us.” - -He said it was handier for some folks; they could come better Sundays -than any other day. - -“Handier!” says I, in a almost dry tone, “it would be awful handy for me -sometimes, to do my week’s washin’ Sundays, or knit striped mittens, or -piece up bed-quilts, but you don’t catch me at it.” Says I “Had we ort -to begreech one day out of the week to Him who give us the hull of ’em?” -And says I, “I don’t blame you a mite for wantin’ to make our fureign -visitors feel to home, and use ’em well; but when I go a visitin’ I -don’t expect ’em to kill off their grandmothers if I don’t happen to -like the looks of the old lady and haint used to grandmothers. Good -land! how simple it would be in me to expect it.” - -Says Joseph, “Josiah Allen’s wife, you have presented the subject to me -in a interestin’ and eloquent manner.” Says he, “The other matter is out -of my power to change, but as for Sundays, I will get ’em back again; I -will have ’em.” - -Oh, how earnest and good he did look out of his eyes (a bright -blueish-grey) as he said this, and how fearfully handsome. And I a -thinkin’ to myself—here I be advisin’ the Nation for her good, and she a -takin’ my advice. I felt noble, very. If I could have accomplished both -of my undertakin’s, I don’t know but I should have felt _too_ noble; but -we all, like Mr. Paul, if we go to soarin’ up too high, have to have a -thorn in the flesh to prick us and keep us down in our place. So I bid -Joseph a almost affectionate good-bye, and Josiah and me started -homewards. - -[Illustration] - - - - - DOIN’ THE MAIN BUILDIN’. - - -The next mornin’ I told Josiah we would tackle the Main Buildin’; so we -follered a lot of folks from our tarvern—another spiked gate turned -round with us and let us in, and—and what didn’t that gate let us into? -Oh, good land! Oh, dear suz! You may think them words are strong, and -express a good deal, but they don’t begin to explain to you how I felt. -Why, a hull Dictionary of jest such words couldn’t begin to tell my -feelins as I stood there a lookin’ round on each side of me, down that -broad, majestic, glitterin’ street full of folks and fountains and -glitterin’ stands, and statutes, and ornaments, with gorgeous shops on -each side containin’ the most beautiful beauty, the sublimest sublimity, -and the very grandest grandeur the hull world affords. I advanced a -little ways, and then, not sensin’ it at all, I stopped stun still and -looked round me, Josiah kinder drawin’ me along—entirely unbeknown to -me. Finally he spoke in a sort of a low, awe-stricken whisper: - -“Do come along, Samantha!” - -But I still stood stun still, lookin’ round me through the eyes of my -specks (Josiah had got the other eye put in), and didn’t sense what he -was a sayin’ to me till he spoke again—hunchin’ me hard at the same -time: “What is the matter Samantha?” - -Says I, in low strange tones, “I am completely dumbfoundered Josiah -Allen!” - -“So be I,” says he, “but it won’t do to be a blockin’ up the path, and -actin’ baulky; it will make talk. Less go along and do as the rest do.” -So we walked along. And as my dumbfounder began to leave me, and I -recovered the use of my tongue, my first words was: - -“Josiah Allen, if I was as young as I once was, and knew I’d live to die -of old age, I’d come right here to this village and live, and go through -this buildin’ and see the biggest heft of its contents. But at my age, -there haint no use of tryin’ to see a half or even a quarter of ’em.” - -Says Josiah, “You know Tirzah Ann wanted you to remember what you see -here and describe it to her.” - -“Good land!” says I, “I might jest as well undertake to divide off the -sands of the sea, set ’em off into spans and call ’em by name, and -describe the best pints of each on ’em;” says I almost wildly: “if I -should undertake the job I should feel so curious that I shouldn’t never -git over it, like as not;” says I, “Josiah Allen, when anybody tackles a -subject they want a place to take holt, or leggo; it makes ’em feel -awful not to have neither.” - -Why, if you’d lift up your head a minute to kind o’ rest your eyes, you -would see enough to think on for a hull natural life. Havin’ in all the -emergencies of life found it necessary to stand firm, and walk even, and -straight forred, I laid out to take the different countries on the north -side, and go through ’em, and then on the south side, go through ’em -coolly and in order, and with calmness of spirit. But long before I had -gone through with the United States, my mind was in a state it had never -been in before through my hull life. I thought I had felt promiscous in -days that was past and gone, but I give up that I never knew the meanin’ -of the word before. Why, if there had been a pain of glass put into my -mind, and anybody had looked into my feelins through it, they would say -if they wasn’t liars that they see a sight long to be remembered; though -if they had went to dividin’ off my feelins and settin’ ’em in a row and -tellin’ ’em to set still, they would truly have had a tegus time. Why I -haint got ’em curbed in, so’s to keep any order now, when I go to -thinkin’ about that Main Buildin’. - -Instead of travelin’ right through it with dignity, they are jest as -likely as anyway to begin right in the centre of that grand buildin’; -see that great round platform with broad steps a leadin’ up to it on -every side, and that railin’ round it, a fencin’ in the most entrancin’ -and heavenly music that ever a earthly quire discoursed upon—music that -would rest you when you was tired, and inspire and elevate you into a -realm of Pure Delight when you wasn’t. And seein’ way up and up to the -ruff, little railins all ornamented off, tear after tear of ’em, and -folks in ’em a lookin’ down onto the endless crowd below; and lions and -eagles, and stars and stripes, and the honored forms and names of George -Washington and B. Franklin up there, to make us feel safe and good. And -then all of a sudden entirely unbeknown to me, my mind will work -sometimes one way, sometimes the other. Sometimes it will give a jump -clear to the west end, and see ornaments, and glass cases, and shinin’ -counters with wimmen standin’ behind ’em, and tall jars big enough to -preserve my Josiah hull in, if it was the fashion to preserve pardners. - -And it wont think things out with any order, or hardly decency; -sometimes the next thing after a pulpit I’ll think of a dragon; and then -mebby I’ll think of a thermomiter with the quick silver a tryin’ to git -out at the top to walk out to cool itself, and the next thing a -Laplander covered with fur, and a sled; it beats all. There is no use -tellin’ what I _did_ see, but I could tell what I _didn’t_ see in half a -minute. I can’t think now of but one thing that I didn’t see and that is -butternuts, though truly, I might have seen bushels, and not sensed ’em. - -Why, along at first when I was a beginnin’ my tower through the United -States, I would be fearfully surprised at the awfully grand and -beautiful things; but before noon I got so that I wasn’t surprised at -nothin’, and Josiah couldn’t make me, though he hunched me several -times, a tryin’ to surprise me, and couldn’t. Why, I’d think I had come -to an end of the grandeur and glory; it _must_ be there couldn’t be any -more, and I’d git my specks all ready to rest off for a minute—when I’d -kinder grope round a little, and out I’d come again into another room -full to overflowin’ of splendor and beauty. Why, once I come out into a -room that had six high pillows in the form of palm trees with long -scalloped leaves towerin’ clear up to the ruff, which was ornamented off -with vines and flowers, and the counters was all covered with raised -work, representin’ the gatherin’ of flowers and the extraction of their -perfumes, and two noble silver-plated gold-tipped fountains, sprayin’ -out sweetness; why, no posy bed I ever smelled of could compare with -that room. - -And then there was a beautiful pavilion all trimmed off with flowers; -and in the centre, one of the likeliest lookin’ fountains I ever _did_ -see, with four different perfumes a jettin’ out, and round each spray a -design showin’ what kind it was. And each one was more perfectly -fragrant and beautiful than the other (as it were). I told Josiah I -wished Shakespeare Bobbet could jest step in here; I guessed he never -would use peppermint essence again on his handkerchief. When he used to -come to see Tirzah Ann, he always would scent up high with peppermint or -cinnamon; he smelt like a apothecary. - -But I kep’ a lookin’ round, and oh, such sights of pianos and organs as -I did see; it beat all. Why, there was one parlor organ with -twenty-eight stops to it. Says I, “Josiah Allen what do you think of -that?” Josiah had seen so much he was a gittin’ cross, and he said he -had heerd folks play when he would have been thankful to have had one -stop to it, if they had used it. And such iron and steel works; why we -see a rod over a mile long. And there was one lock that they said had -four billion changes to it. Josiah told me he had jest as good a mind as -he ever had to eat, to stop and count ’em, for he didn’t believe there -was three billions in it if there was two. And there was safes, large -enough to lock up my Josiah in—who is indeed by far the most valuable -ornament I possess—and teeth, and artificial eyes. There was one big -black eye, that Josiah said he would buy if he was able. - -Says I, “What under the sun would you do with it Josiah Allen?” - -“Oh,” says he, “it might come handy sometime, I am liable to accidents.” - -“Why,” says I, “your eyes are as blue as indigo.” - -“Well,” says he, “I always liked black eyes, and that is such a awful -smart lookin’ eye, it would give anybody such a knowin’ look.” - -I told him I guessed he would look knowin’; I guessed he would know it -when he went round with one black eye, and one blue one. I didn’t -encourage the idee. He looked wishful at it to the last, and he has said -sense, that that was the smartest lookin’ eye he ever see in his life. - -And such sights and sights of glass ware, and crystal fountains. I told -Josiah that I had sung about ’em all my life, but never did I expect to -see one. But I did, here it was; handsomer than song could sing. About -three feet from the floor was a basin twelve feet wide, and round this, -seventy-two cut glass vases for flowers, and four pillows havin’ twelve -lights and four more for flowers. In the centre column half way up, was -the most beautiful crystal ornaments and doins you ever see, with -burnin’ jets inside; and over all was a dome held up by three columns, -topped off with spread eagles. The age of this dome was all trimmed off -with red, white, and blue, and under it was the Goddess of Liberty -standin’ on the globe. There is between three and four thousand pieces -of glass in this fountain—so they told me—and they said it was the -nicest one in the world; and I told ’em I didn’t dispute it, for I had -travelled round a good deal, and I never see the beat on’t. And here it -was that I got agitated and frightened; skairt most to death, and I wont -deny it. I was a walkin’ along, cool as a cluster cucumber at sunrise, -and as calm, when I looked up and thinks’es I, there comes a woman that -looks jest like the Smiths; thinks’es I, she looks _jest_ like me, only -not quite so good lookin’. I stopped completely dumbfoundered, and she -stopped also in dumbfounder. I looked her in the face with a almost wild -mean, and _her_ mean looked almost wild. - -I give right up that she _was_ a Smith, and then realizin’ what sort of -a tower it was that I was on, I knew it was my place to make the first -move towards gittin’ acquainted with her; so I made her a low curchy, -and she made me a low curchy. And then I walked right up and held out my -hand to her, and she walked right up to me a holdin’ out her hand. Says -I, “Who you be mom, I don’t know, but I believe my soul you are one of -the Smiths, for you look as near like me as two peas, only you are a -little fleshier than I be, and not quite so light complected.” But what -the next move would have been I don’t know if all of a sudden right over -her shoulder I hadn’t seen the face of my Josiah, and I knew he was the -other side of me. Cold shivers run over my back, when I felt a hand a -seizin’ and a holdin’ of me back, and the voice of Josiah a sayin’: - -“What under the heavens Samantha, are you a tryin’ to walk through that -lookin’-glass for?” - -[Illustration: ONE OF THE SMITH FAMILY.] - -I see then where I was, and says I in faint axents: “Josiah Allen, I -should have been through it in a minute more;” and I should. I told him -I was most glad it took place, for it truly seemed as if he renewed his -age, it pleased him so. But he stopped it pretty sudden, for he had a -little incident happen to him, that made him pretty shy about pokin’ fun -at me. The way on’t was, he had been sick all one night, and the next -day he got so tired out that he said he guessed he would git into one of -those rollin’ chairs a few moments to rest him. He whispered to me that -he shouldn’t ride out but seven cents and a half, which would be only -half a quarter of an hour. I whispered back to him that it would look -small in him, and if I was in _his_ place, I would ride a quarter of an -hour, or not try to ride at all. But he whispered back to me, firm as -brass, that seven cents worth and a half was all he should ride and that -was more than he could afford. And knowin’ well he was close, but -honest, I didn’t argue no more. He didn’t tell the man, for fear he -wouldn’t want the bother for so little while. - -That was the last I see of Josiah Allen for five hours and a half. He -promised to meet me at a certain time and place, and I was skairt nearly -to death. And I don’t know as I should ever have seen him again, if I -hadn’t happened to meet him face to face. There he was a layin’ back -fast asleep, and that man had been a rollin’ him round for five hours -and a half by the clock, through the different worlds, and he not -sensin’ a thing—sleepin’ jest as sweet in front of them horrible -antediluvian monsters, and the crockydiles, as before calico and bobinet -lace—treatin’ ’em all alike, snorin’ at the hull of ’em. I s’pose he had -dropped to sleep the minute I left him, not sleepin’ any the night -before. I catched right holt of his arm, and says to the man: “Stop -instantly! it is my pardner that you are a rollin’ on; it is a sleepin’ -Josiah.” - -[Sidenote: JOSIAH’S RIDE IN A CHAIR] - -I declare, the man looked almost as foolish as Josiah, only Josiah’s -mean had agony on it; and as he paid out the 3 dollars and 30 cents, his -sithes were more like groans than common sithes. I haint heerd a word -sense from Josiah Allen about my walkin’ through a lookin’ glass in -search of a Smith. - -[Illustration: JOSIAH’S FIVE HOURS’ RIDE.] - -We then went into Mexico and found it was a noble lookin’ Nation, -considerable on the castle plan; trimmed off handsome at the top with -several open places filled with statutes, and large minerals, and some -of the handsomest plants I ever see. It seemed to have everything it -needed to git along with. - -But what was as interestin’ to me as anything, was a great stone, -weighin’ about four thousand pounds, that fell right down out of some -other world, landin’ on ours, down in Mexico. Oh! what emotions I had in -lookin’ at it and thinkin’ if I only knew what that stun knew, I should -be a sight to behold. But I knew the stun wouldn’t speak up and tell me -anything about the world he had come from, or how he happened to start -off alone, or whether he liked our world better than he did hisen, or -anything, if I stood there till the next Sentinal. - -And then we went in under a lofty arch, with curtains, and tassels, and -banners, and lions, and crosses, and so 4th into Netherlands. And right -there in the vestibule was pictures and drawin’s and models; showin’ -plain what awful hard work they do have to keep their land from -drowndin’; dretful interestin’ it must be to inebriate drunkards there, -seein’ what strong barriers they have raised up between them and the -water. - -And we see a little brick house, with part of the thatched roof left -open so you could see right down into the house; and a eatin’ house with -little folks settin’ to the table, and some East India curiosities as -curious as any curiosities I ever laid eyes on. And then we travelled -over into Brazil. I always knew Brazil was a noble Nation, but never, -never did I imagine it was trimmed and ornamented off to such an extent. -We went right in boldly under the ornaments and trimmins, and truly we -did see enough to pay us for our trouble; there was flowers made out of -the most brilliant feathers you ever see. Why I had s’posed old Hail the -Day’s feathers was shinin’; I’ve seen ’em look perfectly gorgeous to me -when he was standin’ round on one foot at the back door a crowin’ and -the sun was a shinin’ down on him; but good land! what was his feathers -compared to these. And then we see the big topaz, brilliant and clear as -well-water almost, sunthin’ the size of a goose egg—s’posen she, the -goose, laid almost square eggs. And oh! if I only had a goose that laid -such eggs, how well off I could git in one season if she done well; it -is worth 150,000 dollars. And we see a sun dial fixed so the sun fired -off a cannon every day at noon. Josiah said he never see the beat on’t, -to think the sun should be willin’ to do such work for anybody—hire out -to do day’s works (as it were.) But I says, “if _anybody_ could git him -at it, it is Mr. Pedro;” says I, “it don’t surprise me, that without -makin’ any fuss about it, or boastin’ a mite, he has got the sun so it -will fire off cannons for him or anything; it is jest like him.” Says I, -“Some monarchs are obleeged to wear a crown instead of a hat, and hold -out a septer in their hand to make anybody _mistrust_ they are kings. -But it haint so with _him_; _his_ royalty haint put on the outside, it -is inherient in _him_, and works out from his heart and soul.” - -[Sidenote: A TRIP THROUGH THE WORLD] - -I should have went on about him considerable more,—I have such a deep -honor and respect, and such a strong (meetin’ house) regard for him—but -Josiah looked so restless and worrysome. He haint a jealous hair on the -top of his head, (nor a hair of any description) but he worships me so, -I s’pose it gauls him to see me praise up any other man; so we moved on -and made a short tower into Belgium, and see their laces—I don’t believe -there is such splendid laces in the hull world as I see there, and they -call ’em Brussels laces; mebby they be, but I don’t believe it; anyway -they haint made out of hog’s brussels; that I know; and I told Josiah I -knew it, and he said _he_ did, or else they was different from any -brussels he ever see—why you never see anything so perfectly fine and -beautiful; the very nicest bobinet lace that Mother Smith ever made into -a cap border couldn’t compare with the poorest of it. Jest one lace -dress cost 7,000 dollars, and I wouldn’t have made it for a cent less -for anybody, even if they had found their own brussels. But where under -the sun they ever found such brussels is a mystery to me, and to -Josiah—we have talked it over lots of times sense. - -And then we made a short call in Switzerland. She wasn’t so big or -trimmed off inside so much as some of the Nations. Her show cases was -quaker color, made up plain, but they looked well. And oh! such watches -as I did see there, and such music boxes! There was one elegant lookin’ -one that played thirtysix tunes, and Josiah said he’d love to buy it, -for he believed if he practiced enough, he could play on it first-rate. -That man has a awful good opinion of himself—by spells; says he: “Don’t -you believe Samantha, that by tendin’ right to it, and givin’ my mind up -to it, I could learn?” - -Says I dryly, “If you knew enough to play well on a fannin’ mill, or a -grindstun you probably could.” - -And then we went back into the Main Aisle, that broad, and glitterin’ -highway, full of folks—for as big a crowd as you would see through all -the Nations, you would always find a bigger one here, of Yankeys, -Turkeys, German, Dutch, Tunicks, Jappaned men and Chinee, of all sizes, -and every sex—and sot out for France. And truly if I hadn’t give up -bein’ surprised long before, this place would have been the ruination of -me. Why, if it hadn’t been for a little episode that took place there, I -don’t know but I should be a wanderin’ round there now. It beats all how -the French race can look right down through even the useful, and see -beauty in it, or make it. You could see everything there, from a -necklace worth forty thousand dollars, to a clay pipe; from a little -gold bird that sings every half hour by the watch, up to Virgins, and -sweet faced Madonnas and saints; and the Shepherds and wise men -worshippin’ the infant Christ in a stable, with real straw in the -manger, and real hay in the oxen’s rack. But good land! there’s no use -tryin’ to tell what was there. I couldn’t do it if I talked my tongue -off, so I wont try. - -I was a settin’ down in the centre of the room on as soft a lounge as I -ever sot on, a lookin’ at the perfectly gorgeous and wonderful display -of silks and velvets a displayin’ themselves to me, when a good lookin’ -feller and girl come in, and sot down by me, and they was a talkin’ over -the things they had seen, and I a mindin’ my own business, when the -young feller spoke up, and says he to the girl: - -“Have you seen John Rogers goin’ to the Parson, to git married?” - -“No,” says she. - -“Well,” says he, “you ort to.” - -I turned right round and give that young feller a look witherin’ enough -to wither him, and says I: “That is a pretty story to tell to wimmen, -that you have seen John Rogers goin’ to the Parson to git married.” - -“I did see it,” says he, jest as brazen as a brass candlestick. - -Says I firmly, “You didn’t.” - -Says he, “I did.” - -Says I with dignity, “Don’t you tell me that again, or I’ll know the -reason why. You never see John Rogers a goin’ to git married. John was -burnt up years ago; and if he wasn’t, do you think he was a man to go -and try to git married again when he had a wife and nine childern, and -one at the breast? Never! John Rogers’es morals was sound; I guess it -will take more than you to break ’em down at this late day.” - -The young feller’s face looked awful red and he glanced up at the young -woman and tried to turn it off in a laugh and says he: - -“This is John Rogers Jr., old John Rogers’es boy.” - -“Why how you talk!” says I in agitated tones: - -“Which one is it; is it the one at the breast?” - -“No!” says he. “It is the seventh boy, named after his father. I am well -acquainted with him,” says he takin’ out his watch: “I have an -appointment to meet him in about half an hour, and I’ll introduce you to -him. You’d love to see his ‘Goin’ to the Parson,’ it is a beautiful -statute.” - -“Oh,” says I, “then he is a Statuary by trade! why didn’t you say so in -the first on’t.” - -“Yes,” says he, “he has got beautiful ones, and we will both go with -you;” and he smiled again at her, and she smiled back at him. My mind -was all took up and agitated at the idee of seein’ the son of that noble -maytyr, my elevator over Betsey, the Widder and other sufferin’s. I told -Josiah I would be back again in a few moments, and then I told the young -feller I was ready to go with ’em; and presently I stood in the United -States again, a lookin’ at some beautiful little statutes. - -John Rogers Jr. wasn’t there when we arrived, and so I went to admirin’ -his statutes. They was perfectly beautiful, though middlin’ small sized, -and they all had clothes on, which was a surprise to me, and indeed a -treat. The young couple comin’ to the Parson, looked first-rate, though -considerable sheepish. And there was the “Favored Scholar,” lookin’ -pretty and important, and the little boy, who I persume got whipped -several times a day, makin’ up a face at her, jest as natural. And there -was “We Boys,” on the horse’s back—goin’ after the cows, mebby; you -could almost smell the clover blows, and the sweet hay a blowin’ down -the lane, and almost hear the tinklin’ of the cow bell way off in the -age of the woody pasture; the boys faces told the hull story. And then -there was the confederate lady with the sick child, “Drawin’ Rations” of -the triumphant North. All the pride of a long race of proud ancestors -looked out of her sad eyes, as she came to take charity of her -conqueror; but it was done for love’s sake—you could see that too, and -that makes hard things easy. It is a middlin’ quiet influence, but it is -more powerful in movin’ folks than a earthquake. And then there was the -“Tap on the Window,” and “Rip Van Winkle,” and others; and before I had -got half through admirin’ of ’em, a good lookin’ man come along that -seemed awful tickled to see the feller and girl with me, and they -laughed and whispered to each other real friendly, and then the young -chap says he: “Allow me to introduce you Madam, to my friend John Rogers -Jr.” - -Says I, in tones tremblin’ with emotion: “How do you do, John Rogers -Jr., I’ll make you acquainted with Josiah Allen’s wife;” and then I made -a low curchy and shook hands with him, and says I, “I am all well, and -hope you are the same.” And then politeness bein’ attended to, I spoke -out and says I: - -“John Rogers Jr., you haint no idee how I have been admirin’ your -statutes, not only on account of their wonderful beauty, but on the -account of your honored father. Your father, John Rogers Jr., was one of -the noblest men I ever got acquainted with—in a history way, I mean. -Folks may think they have got sound, well-seasoned principles that will -stand most any strain, but I tell you, let anybody be sot fire to, and -that will show what stuff they are made of.” Says I, “I have heerd folks -tell about gittin’ up and bearin’ the cross, in a room all carpeted off, -and jest warm enough for comfort; I never loved to hear it, for if that -means anything, it means bearin’ the hull sin and sorrows of the world, -the agony and despair, when earth destroyed and Heaven seemed to have -forgotten. It means a good deal; I’ve heerd folks talk about bearin’ -their cross in gittin’ up and exhortin’ folks, when you couldn’t tie ’em -down they wanted to git up and talk so awful bad, and you couldn’t stop -’em, when they got at it. Why, to look round on the congregation -sometimes, you would think if there was any agony about it, the hearers -was the ones a sufferin’ of it. It is all right to talk in meetin’; I -have heerd them that I had jest as lives hear as any minister—tender, -simple messages that come straight from a good lovin’ Christian heart, -and went to other hearts, jest like a arrer from a bo.” - -But I never loved to hear folks say they was bearin’ a cross when they -wasn’t. I say it is jest as bad to tell a wrong story in a meetin’-house -as in a barn, or a sugar bush. I have heerd these same folks git up and -say they was willin’ to die off that minute for the Lord’s sake, and -after meetin’ I would ask ’em to give 25 cents to help God’s poor—work -He left below for His childern to do in His name, and not a cent could I -git from ’em. They was willin’ to bear the cross for Him with their -tongue, and die off for Him with the same, in conference meetin’; but -when it come to lendin’ the Lord 25 cents, this they truly felt was -askin’ too much of ’em. And then I had my own idees whether they was -really willin’ to die off, and I had my own mind too whether I was -willin’ to have ’em. When they was baptized they left their pocket books -to home, in the stand draw, but _they_ ort to have been baptized too—all -over by immersion. - -“When the Lord gives a person health and strength to enjoy the beautiful -world he placed him in, and powers to labor for Him and for humanity, I -don’t believe He requires at the same time dyin’ grace of em. He wants -them to have livin’ grace, and use it. They ort to be willin’ to live, -which is a great deal harder sometimes. But truly, I was drawed into -this episodin’ by comparin’ your honored father in my mind with these I -have named. If they won’t give 25 cents for their religion, what would -they say if they had to give what your father gave. His principle and -religion bore the flames of agony and death and wasn’t burnt up—they -couldn’t make a fire hot enough.” John put his handkerchief to his face -and I see he was dretfully affected, so I bid him a almost tender -good-bye and jined my pardner, and we went into England. - -[Illustration: INTRODUCED TO JOHN ROGERS JR.] - -I took a sight of comfort in my tower through Great Britain, a seein’ -her noble doins and meditatin’ how well off she was, and how she has -prospered. Of course I can’t help feelin’ a little parshal to America, -but the old lady country seems awful near to me; I think a sight of her. -You can’t tear up a tree and set it out in a new place without leavin’ -lots of little roots in the old soil; a mother and daughter can’t be -parted away from each other without lots of memories and affections -clingin’ round each other’s heart. Now, after I left Mother Smith’s and -had a home of my own, I was always glad to see Mother Smith have things -for her comfort; the more dresses and housen stuff she had, the better I -liked it. And so it was with me and England, I didn’t feel a bit hurt -because she seemed so well off; not a bit. Her display that she -displayed to the Sentinal was next to our own in size and grandeur. It -was beyond all description, so fur beyond, that description couldn’t -think of catchin’ up, but would set right down. - -I will merely mention one thing, a statute of the Saviour holdin’ a -child in his arms, “Safe in the arms of Jesus;” it was beautiful, -extremely so; it almost brought tears to my eyes it was so affectin’. - -And then we went to India, Josiah and me did; almost the oldest country -in the world, and exceedingly curious. Here we see some of the most fine -and delicate store clothes I ever laid eyes on; I could have hid a hull -muslin dress of thirty-five yards in Josiah’s vest pocket, if it would -have been right so to do, and nobody would have mistrusted he was -carryin’ off a thing. Why, a double thickness hangin’ over my Josiah -wouldn’t hinder me from seein’ my pardner a particle; and then we see -dresses of the lower class, all made ready to put on; fourteen yards of -cloth in a straight strip. Them wimmen don’t fool away their time on -boddis waists and overskirts. - -Then we went through the hull of the British Colonies, stopped in front -of the hull of ’em, treated ’em all friendly and alike. Then we tackled -a hull lot of Islands, sailed round the hull of ’em from Victoria to New -Zealand. While travellin’ through the last named, I clung to Josiah’s -arm almost mekanically, though I knew his small weight by the -steelyards, (one hundred pounds, mostly bones) was in his favor. We see -there the skeleton of the great wingless bird Moa, bigger than the -ostridge; by their tell, the eggs would be splendid for cookin’. Seven -by ten—one biled egg would be enough for a large family. I asked ’em if -they s’posed I could git a couple of eggs; I thought if I could, I would -set three or four hens on ’em and a goose or two, and git a flock -started. - -And in Bermuda we see amongst lots of other things, some brain coral. -And as the poet truly saith, “Every part strengthens a part,” I thought -what a interestin’ and agreeable food that would be for some people to -eat three times a day, till their symptoms was removed. We was -travellin’ through the Nations now pretty middlin’ fast, not alone from -principle heretofore named, but also from the fact that we had seen so -much, that we didn’t see nothin’. - -In Sweden my feelins got worked upon to a very affectin’ degree; first I -knew, right there in the midst of life, and the brilliant animation of -the scene, I see a little coffin and a cradle with a dead baby in it, -and leanin’ over it weepin’, as if her heart would break was the -afflicted mother; and in a chair nigh by, jest as if it was my Josiah, -sot the father lookin’ as if he would sink, with a little girl jest -about the age of Tirzah Ann when I married her pa, a standin’ by him. A -man, a minister I thought by his looks stood by ’em, but not a woman -nigh ’em, nobody offerin’ to do a thing for ’em, and they in a strange -land. I walked right up to ’em and says I in a tremblin’ voice: - -“You are a stranger to me, mom, but I see you are in deep trouble, and -the hand of sorrow draws hearts that was wide apart close together, and -the voice of pity and sympathy speaks through every language under the -sun. Can I do anything to help you mom? If I can, command me do it, for -I feel for you,” says I drawin’ out my white cotton handkerchief and -wipin’ my eyes, “I too am a stepmother.” - -She didn’t say nothin’; I see grief was overcomin’ of her, and I turned -to him and says I, “If I can be of any use to you sir, if there is any -preparations to make, I stand willin’ and ready to make ’em.” - -He didn’t say nothin’; so I says to the minister: “Respected sir, I see -this afflicted family is perfectly overcome with their feelins; but I -want ’em to know when they come to and realize things, that if they need -help I stand ready to help ’em. Will you tell ’em so?” - -He didn’t answer me a word; and thinks’es I, there haint but one more -step that I can take to show my good will, and I says to the little girl -in tender tones: - -“Come to Aunt Samantha sissy, your poor pa is feelin’ awfully.” And I -took holt of her hand, and there it was, nothin’ but a dumb figger, and -there they all was, nothin’ but dumb figgers! And as I took a realizin’ -sense of it, I was a dumb figger myself (as it were), for most a minute -I stood in deep dumbfounder—not shame, for my words had sot out from -good motives, and the home of principle. But I put my handkerchief in my -pocket and started along; Experience keeps a good school. There was more -than twenty other figgers that I should have tackled as sure as the -world, if I hadn’t come right out of that school kep’ by E. And in -Norway I persume I should have asked that Laplander in a sledge, some -questions about his own country; if reindeers was profitable as horses, -or if he didn’t think a cutter would be easier goin’, or sunthin’. But -as it was, I passed ’em with a mean almost marble for composure. I had -had an idee that Sweden and Norway was sort o’ hangin’ back in the -onward march of the Nations; why, I almost thought they was a settin’ -down; but I see my ignorance; they are a keepin’ up nobly with -Jonesville and the world. - -And then we, Josiah and me, went off into Italy, and there see more -carved wood-work, perfectly wonderful, some of it; and jewelry and -furniture, and statutes. There was one of David—I never see David look -any better—and then there was one small statute of Dante. I wasn’t -formally acquainted with Dante myself, but I have heerd Thomas J. read -about him a sight. Oh what troubles that man went through. It was very -interestin’ and agreeable to me to form his acquaintance here, (as it -were.) - -And then, not wantin’ to slight nobody, we made a short tower, a very -short one, through the Argentine Republic, though the news never had got -to Jonesville—I never heerd in my life that there was such a Nation till -I see its name wrote out. And there we see minerals, and shawls, and so -4th, and so 4th. Hearin’ that Peru was right back of it, and feelin’ -that I would ruther lose a dollar bill than to have Peru feel slighted, -we made ’em a short visit. I hadn’t been there two moments before I told -Josiah that I’d ruther have run the risk of hurtin’ her feelins than to -have gone near her, if I had had any idee what I was a goin’ to see. - -I can truly say without lyin’ that they had the very humbliest skulls -there that I ever did see. There haint any too much beauty in common -skulls, but these were truly hegus. And such relics of humbliness; such -awful lookin’ water-jars—how anybody could ever drink a drop of water -out of ’em is a mystery to me. And such fearfully humbly mummys; there -was eight on ’em, some with their knees drawd up to their breasts, and -some in other postures, but every one on ’em enough to scare a cast-iron -man—Josiah groaned aloud as he looked at ’em. I told him we ort to bear -up under the sight as well as we could, for they was interestin’ from -the fact that they was dug up out of old tombs and mounds. - -But he groaned again louder than ever, and says he, “What made ’em dig -’em up?” Says he, “If they had been on _my_ land, I’d ruther give a -dollar than to have had ’em dug out where I could see ’em.” - -I got Josiah out as quick as I could for I see them mummys and relics -had overcome him so. I hurried him out, for I was afraid he would git -completely unstrung, and I knew if he should, I was too afflicted with -horror myself to try to string him up again. So we went back still -further, into Orange, for I told Josiah I would be glad enough to git a -couple of fresh oranges, for we both needed refreshin’ after what we had -passed through. But I didn’t see an orange there, though I see some -noble ostridge feathers, and diamonds, and wheat, and elephant tusks, -and cream of tartar vegetable, and so 4th, and etcetery; and then we -went right off into China. - -I told Josiah it would look friendly in us to pay considerable attention -to China, they bein’ neighbors of ours, (their land joins our farm I -s’pose, on the underside.) Some folks think that this is the most -strikin’ Nation to the Sentinal, but I don’t know as it struck me much -harder than Japan did—they both dealt my mind fearful blows. We entered -into this country through a tall noble gateway of carved wood painted in -dark colors, with the roof turned up, and trimmed off with dragons like -tea-chests and pagodas, and all other Chinese public structures. And the -show cases was on the same plan, all fixed off with such curious -figgers; and curious is no name for what we see there. Such carvin’s of -wood and ivory; why there was a hull meetin’ house, most all steeple, -seven or eight stories high, with bells a hangin’ from every one of ’em. -This meetin’ house was all fenced in with trees in the door yard, and -men and wimmen a walkin’ up to the house of Joss. The hull thing was -carved out of ivory. I almost disputed the eye of my spectacles as I see -it. And then there was a hull procession of ivory Mandarins, meanderin’ -along; and balls within balls, fifteen in number, the outside one bein’ -not much bigger than a hen’s egg, and every one of ’em carved with the -most exquisite vines and flowers. How they ever done it is a mystery to -me, and so it is to Josiah. - -And then such splendid though extremely curious furniture as we see -here; there was seven elegant pieces which was made of mahogony, trimmed -off beautifully with whitewood and ivory; each piece was about the -height of a table, and the seven could be formed into seven thousand -shapes. Anybody could change ’em into a new article of furniture every -day for twenty years. For a restless woman that is always movin’ round -her bedstead and buro, and parlor table, these would be indeed -refreshin’ and agreeable housen stuff. And there was a four thousand -dollar bedstead, all ornamented and embellished with different sorts of -dragons, and other interestin’ reptiles. There was sights of work on it. -I haint got a bedstead in my house, that there is half the work on; but -I have got them that I believe my soul I could sleep in as well again, -for there was so many animals of different kinds a creepin’ up, and -lookin’ down from overhead, and crawlin’ along the sides, that, -thinks’es I to myself, after layin’ on it for several days, a nite mair -would be almost a treat. I don’t say that the mair would look so -curious, but she would be a sort of a rarity. - -[Sidenote: IN THE CHINESE DEPARTMENT] - -But if I had disputed the eye of my spectacle in China, what could I say -to ’em in Japan. Such nicety of work, such patience and long sufferin’ -as must have gone into their manufactorys. Why there was a buro, black -and gold, with shelves and draws, and doors hung with gold and silver -hinges, and every part of that buro clear to the backside of the bottom -draw, was nicer, and fixed off handsomer than any handkerchief pin. They -asked four thousand five hundred dollars for it, and it was worth it; I -wouldn’t make it for a cent less, and so I told the Jappaned man that -showed it off to us. Though, as I said to him, bein’ a literary woman -doin’ my own housework, and off on towers of principle every little -while, it wasn’t much likely I should ever git time to make one. - -[Illustration: THE CHINESE DEPARTMENT.] - -I was jest lookin’ admirinly at a tall noble tea-pot, when a woman -dressed up awful slick says to me: “Did you ever see such rare and -lovely articles of virtu?” - -Says I coolly, “I have seen jest as virtuous tea-pots as that is, -though,” says I, “I don’t know a thing ag’inst its character, and -persume it is as likely a tea-pot as tea was ever steeped in; but I -don’t know as it is any more so.” - -Says she, “You didn’t understand me Madam; I said they were rare -articles of virtu.” - -Says I firmly, and with dignity, “I heerd you the first time; but I -differ with you mom. I don’t think virtuous tea-pots _are_ rare, I never -was one to be a mistrustin’ and lookin’ out for meanness so much as some -be. I never should think of mistrustin’ a tea-pot or sugar bowl no more -than I should my Josiah, and I should jest as soon mistrust a meetin’ -house as him.” - -She looked me full in the face in a sort of a wonderin’ way, and started -off. I guess she didn’t know much, or mebby she made a blunder. I know I -never heerd anybody talk about stunware bein’ virtuous in my hull life -before. But folks will git things wrong sometimes; I persume I should -myself if I wasn’t so awful careful what I said and who I said it to. - -After she went off I went to lookin’ at the bronzes. Never before did I -feel on such intimate terms with dragons, and cranes, and storks. Why I -felt as if I knew ’em like sisters. - -There was one vase higher than my Josiah, that the handles of it was -clear dragons, and nothin’ else, and a row of wimmen a dancin’ round it, -each one carryin’ a rose in her hand bigger than her head, and up the -sides of it was foxes in men’s clothes. And the handles of another vase -was a flock of birds settlin’ down on a rock, with a dragon on it, and -on top of it a eagle a swoopin’ down onto a snake. There was the most -lovely blue and white vases as tall again as my pardner, with gold -dragons on ’em; and scarlet and green vases with sandy complected -dragons on ’em. Oh, how well acquainted I did git with ’em! I told -Josiah I almost wished we could buy a span of ’em to take home with us, -to remember Japan by, for she is a example to follow in lots of things. -Her patriotism, her enthusiasm in learnin’ is a pattern for Jonesville -and other Nations of the world to foller. Better behaved, well-meaniner -little men than them Jappaned men (though dark complexioned) I don’t -want to see; they are truly gentlemen. To see ’em answerin’ questions so -patient and polite, impudent questions and foolish ones and everything, -and they a bearin’ it, and not losin’ their gentle ways and courtesy, -not gettin’ fractious or worrysome a mite; I hunched Josiah to take -notice, and says I, “Josiah Allen you might set at their feet and learn -of ’em with advantage to you. China and Japan are both queer, but -Japan’s queerness has a imaginative artistic quirl to it that China’s -queerness don’t have. Truly the imaginations of them Jappaned men must -be of a size and heft that we can hardly realize.” - -Leavin’ Japan, I told Josiah I guessed we would not go to Denmark, and -he said he might live through it, and he might not, he was so near -starved. But he hadn’t hardly got into that country when all of a sudden -he laid holt of me and pulled me out one side, and says he: - -“Look out my dear Samantha, or you’ll git hurt.” - -I looked up and I was most startled for a minute myself, for a man stood -there holdin’ a great stun over his head, a lookin’ down as if he was a -goin’ to throw it right at our heads. But in a minute I says, “It is a -statute, Josiah, it wont hurt us.” - -And he cooled down; he hadn’t called me “dear Samantha” before, for over -fourteen years; but truly danger is a blister that draws love to the -outside. He almost worships me, but like other married men, he conceals -it a good deal of the time. His affectionate mean had softened up my own -feelins too, so I didn’t stay to Denmark only jest long enough to see -some very beautiful crockery, and a large collection of exceedinly -curious curiosities from Greenland, and then Josiah and me (at his -request) went and took a lunch at a little tarvern right in the -buildin’. - -I felt kinder disappointed about not stayin’ no longer in Denmark, on -account of Hamlet (he come from that neighborhood, you know) and I -always did think so much of him, and Ophelia too. I have often heerd -Thomas J. read about ’em; and I’ve always thought if they had been let -alone they would have done well, for she seemed to think everything of -him, and he of her. I got to thinkin’ over her affection and her -disappointment while I was eatin’ my dinner. Thinks’es I, love is too -sacred and holy a emotion to be dickered and fooled with; it is a great -emotion, and ort to be treated greatly and reverently; but their haint a -single emotion in the hull line of emotions that is so meddled and -fooled round with as this is. Folks that have it seem to be ashamed of -it, and other folks make fun of ’em for havin’ it. Curious! you haint -ashamed of havin’ gratitude, or pity, or generosity in your heart, and -other folks don’t make light of you for havin’ ’em; but when it comes to -love, which is the holiest of all, the shadder of the Infinite, the -symbol of all that is heavenly and glorious, the brightest reflection we -catch on earth of the Divine Nature, folks giggle at it and snicker; -curious, very! But I always felt sorry for Ophelia and Hamlet. - -Then we sot sail for Egypt. There was a heavy lookin’ wall and gateway, -and on each side was a big square column, or pillow, though some -tippin’. Over the gate was the flags of Egypt and the United States, -green and yeller, red, white, and blue, minglin’ together jest as -friendly as the green earth, and red and yeller sunsets, with stars a -shinin’ through ’em ever did; and some of the curiousest lookin’ writin’ -I ever did see. On each side, amongst lots of other ornaments and -things, was two as ancient lookin’ females as I ever see on a bust, and -these words printed out in good noble writin’: “The oldest people of the -world sends its morning greeting to the youngest Nation.” - -As we went in, two Egyptians met us, dressed in their national costume, -as loose and baggy as a meal bag, and Josiah looked admirinly at ’em, -and says he, “How remarkable they do hold their age, Samantha; they -don’t look much older than _I_ do;” and says he in a still more -respectful tone, “they must be pretty nigh onto two hundred.” - -“What makes you think so, Josiah Allen?” says I. - -“Why” says he “you see it wrote out there ‘the oldest people in the -world’, and we have ’em here over a hundred.” - -Says I, “Josiah Allen if it wasn’t for me how little your tower would -elevate you, and inform you;” says I, “it don’t mean them, it means most -probable them old wimmen up there on a bust, or mebby it means old -sphynx—the old lady who takes care of the pyramids—you know she is old -as the hills, and older than lots of ’em.” - -Says he “I wonder if that is her handwritin’ clear up over the gateway! -I should think she was old by that; I should jest as lives go down to -the creek and read duck’s tracks and slate stuns.” - -And we see a bust of Pharioh, who was drownded in the Red Sea. A good -lookin’ man for one that was twenty-two hundred and fifty years old, and -was plagued so much, and went through with what he did. And in another -room of the Court we see the man that built one of the pyramids, -Cephenes by name,—a feller six thousand years old. Good land! As I -looked on him, I felt as if Josiah and me was two of the very smallest -drops in a mighty ocian that hadn’t no beginnin’ nor no endin’, no -bottom and no shore. I felt almost choked up, and exceedinly curious. -From Egypt we went straight into Turkey, and there we saw lots of -beautiful articles them Turkeys had made out of olive-wood, and -etcetery. We saw pipes with long stems for smokin’ water; Josiah said -he’d love to try one of ’em, and I believe he would if it hadn’t been -for me. There was a Turkish Bazzar on the grounds where they go to smoke -’em; but I told him almost coldly, that he had better go home and smoke -the penstock that he draws water with from the canal; and he give up the -idee. - -And there was handsome silks of all colors; there was one piece of a -soft grey color, that I told Josiah I would love dearly to have a dress -of it, and after I said that, that man hurried me along so I didn’t -hardly see anything—I s’pose he wanted to git the idee out of my head, -for he never seemed easy a minute till he got me out of Turkey back into -Portugal. I never felt intimately acquainted with this Nation—I knew our -port come from Portugal, and that they raised considerable cork—but I -found many handsome things there; splendid paper of all sorts, writin’ -paper, and elegant bound books, and some printin’ on satin, invitations -to bull fights, and other choice amusements. I told Josiah I should -think they would have to be printed on satin to git anybody started to -’em. And jest as I was sayin’ this, a good-lookin’ woman says to me: -“Splendid stationery, isn’t it?” - -I see she had made a blunder and it was my duty to set her right, so -says I to her: “I don’t know as it is any more stationery than paper and -books commonly is; they are always stationary unless you move ’em -round.” - -She looked at me sort o’ wonderin’ and then laughed but kep’ her head up -as high as ever. It beats all what mistakes some folks will make and not -act mortified a mite; but if _I_ should make such blunders I should feel -cheap as dirt. Then we took a short tower into Spain, and we found she -had trimmed and ornamented herself beautiful. You could stand for hours -a lookin’ at the front of this Nation painted to look like colored -marble, and all figured off so emblematical and curious. And then we -started for Russia, and we see that if any Nation had done well, and put -her best foot forred, she had. Such furs as I see there I don’t never -expect to see again. - -Such awful sights of silks and velvets, and embroideries in gold! There -was one man all embroidered in gold that looked splendid, with a crown -of the most brilliant jewels on his head, and another shinin’ one on the -table by the side of him; and all round in a border was as many as -twenty other gold saints; they looked rich. And then there was all sorts -of linen and cotton goods and umberells and everything. - -And in Austria and Hungary we see beautiful bent wood furniture of all -kinds, and the awfulest sight of kid gloves, and chromos, and oil -paintins, and musical instruments, and the most beautiful Bohemian glass -anybody ever did see. And it was there we see the biggest opal in the -world; it is worth 25,000 dollars, and the man told me it weighed six -hundred and two carats. - -I spoke right up and says I, “They must be awful small carrots then.” - -We didn’t argue with him, but we didn’t believe it, Josiah nor I didn’t, -for if the carrots was any size at all, six hundred of ’em would have -made more’n two bushels. But it was a noble lookin’ stun, and a crowd of -wimmen was round it all the while. I declare I admired some of their -jewelry fearfully; Josiah see that I did, and with a anxious mean he -hurried me off into Germany. And here we see everything, etcetery and so -4th; makin’ one of the nicest displays to the Sentinal—and jewelry, and -gold and silver ware, and ivory ware, of all sorts. There was one case -containin’ velvet that was made of glass and velvet, the finest case in -the hull Main Buildin’. - -But now, havin’ gone the rounds of the Nations, and treatin’ ’em all -alike, so they couldn’t one of ’em, call me uppish or proud spirited; -politeness bein’ attended to and nobody slighted, I told Josiah that I -must git out in the open air and rest off the eyes of my spectacles a -little, or I didn’t know what the result would be. My head was in a -fearful state; I had seen so much, it seemed as if I couldn’t see -nothin’, and at the same time I could see everything, right where it -wasn’t, or anywhere. Why, when I would look up in my Josiah’s face, it -seemed as if I could see right on his forward, dragons, and pulpits, and -on that peaceable bald head I could see (as it were) crockydiles, and -storks, and handkerchief pins; my mean must have looked bad. So we -hurried out through the crowd, and went out under a venerable tree by -the side of the path, and sot down; and anon, or about that time, my -spectacles begun to be rested off, and I see clearer, and realized -things one at a time, more than I _had_ realized ’em. When I come out of -that Main Buildin’, everything was mixed up together to a degree that -was almost alarmin’. - -But the minute Josiah Allen got rested, he was all rousted up with a new -idee. He had catched a sight that day of a Photograph Gallery, and -nothin’ to do but he must go and have his picture took. - -Says he, “I will go and be took Samantha; sunthin’ may happen that we -shall have to go home sudden, and I do want to be took before I leave -the village, for I shant probable look so dressy, and have so pretty a -expression onto me for some time; I shall make a crackin’ good lookin’ -picture, Samantha.” - -That man is vain! but I didn’t throw it in his face, I only told him -almost coldly to be took if he wanted to. And then he beset me to be -took too. Says he, “If you will, we will be holt of hands, or lockin’ -arms, or any way.” - -But I told him firmly, I was on a tower of Right, and though I expected -and lotted on sufferin’ and bein’ persecuted as a P. A., I would not -suffer as the foolish ones do; I would not, for nothin’, go into a job I -dreaded worse than makin’ soap, or bilein’ sap. But, says I, “I will set -here and wait for you.” - -So he set off to be took, feelin’ awful neat, and sayin’ to me the last -thing, what a crackin’ handsome picture he was a goin’ to make. - -That man is as vain as a pea-hen! I sot right there peaceful and -considerable composed, though it give me solemn feelins to watch the -crowd a passin’ by all the time, no two alike, always a movin’ on, never -a stoppin’. They seemed like the waves of a river that was surgin’ right -on towards a sea whose name is Eternity; oh, how they kep’ a movin’ on! -Liberals from Liberia, Tunicks from Tunis, Sandwiches from Sandwich, -Oranges from Orange, Turkeys from Turkey and Poles from Poland; white -men, and yeller men, and black men, and red men, and brown men. Oh! what -a sight it was to see the endless wave and rush a settin’ on and on -forever. And as I see ’em,—though in body I was a settin’ there—I too -was one of ’em a bein’ carried on, and floatin’ toward the ocian. I -seemed to be kinder dizzy, “a ridin’,” as childern say when they set on -a bridge and watch the current sweep by; I was one of the waves, and the -river was a runnin’ swift. - -[Sidenote: I MEET OLD ACQUAINTANCES] - -I hadn’t allegoried (to myself) more than two or three minutes, -probable, when I see a form I knew, Jonathan Beans’es ex-wife by name, -and a vegetable widow by trade. I rose right up and catched holt of her -pin back, and says I, “Jonathan Beans’es ex-wife, how do you do?” she -turned round. - -“Why Josiah Allen’s wife! is it you?” And we shook hands, and kissed -each other, (though I don’t make a practice of it.) And then I told her -that Josiah had gone to be took, and I was a waitin’ for him, and she -sot right down by me, cousin Bean did. Perhaps you will notice that I -say Bean, and not ex-Bean, as formally; she is livin’ with her husband -again, so she told me the first thing. Bean has come back, and they are -keepin’ a hen dairy in Rhode Island; I asked her if the hens didn’t -bother her a fallin’ off in the water, and she said they didn’t; and I -told her you couldn’t always tell by the looks of a map how things -really was. Then we talked a good deal about the Sentinal, and then I -inquired about Miss Astor and the boys; and then we spoke about -Alexander, and I told her I felt awful cut down when I heerd he was -gone; and then we talked about Alexander’s Widder, and we felt glad to -think that it wasn’t likely she would ever be put to it for things to -eat or wear, and had a comfortable house to live in, “most a new one,” -Miss Bean said. - -I told her I was glad she had a house that wouldn’t want shinglin’ right -away; it is hard enough to be a Widder without bein’ leaked down on. - -And then we meandered off into other friends in the village, and I asked -her if Victoria had been cuttin’ up and behavin’? - -She said, she guessed my advice had quieted her down. She hadn’t heerd -of her actin’ for quite a spell. I felt noble when she told me this, but -her very next words made me feel different; I didn’t feel so good as I -did. Says she: “Beecher has been talked about some sense you was to the -village.” - -Says I in a almost dry tone, “I have heerd his name mentioned once or -twice durin’ the past few years.” - -“I believe he is guilty,” says she with a radiant look. - -“Well _I_ don’t,” says I almost warmly. “I don’t believe it no more than -I believe my pardner is a drumedary.” And says I firmly, “I will come -out still plainer; I don’t believe it no more than I believe Josiah -Allen is an ostridge.” - -“Oh!” says she with a still more delighted and lively mean, “I never see -anybody talked about quite so bad as he has been; and that shows that -meetin’ house folks haint no better than common folks.” - -Miss Bean is a Nothingarian in good standin’, and loves to see meetin’ -house folks brought low; loves it dearly. “Jest think,” says she with -that proud and raptuous look on her, “how high he has stood up on a -meetin’ house, and how he has been run down it.” - -But I interrupted of her by askin’ her this conundrum, in about as cold -a tone as they make. - -“Miss Bean, which would be apt to have the biggest, blackest shadder at -its feet; a mullien stalk, or a meetin’ house?” - -“Why, a meetin’ house, of course,” says she. - -“Well,” says I, “that is reasonable. I didn’t know,” says I in a very -dry tone, “but you would expect to see a shadder as black and heavy as a -meetin’ house shadder, a taggin’ along after a mullien stalk. But it -wouldn’t be reasonable; the cloud of detraction and envy and malice that -follers on at the feet of folks is generally proportioned to their -size.” Says I, “Jonathan Beans’es wife, you are not a runnin’ at Henry, -you are runnin’ at Religion.” - -Says I, “If Christianity can stand ag’inst persecution and martyrdom, if -it is stronger than death and the grave, do you s’pose Jonathan Beans’es -wife, and the hull Nothingarian church is a goin’ to overthrow it?” - -Says I, “Eighteen hundred years ago the unbelievers thought they had -hurt it all it could be; they thought they had crucified it, buried it -up, and rolled a stun ag’inst it; but it was mightier than death and the -grave, it rose up triumphant. And the fires of martyrdom in which they -have tried to destroy it ever sense, has only burnt away the chaff; the -pure seed has remained, and the waves of persecution in which time and -again they have tried to drownd it, has only scattered the seed abroad -throughout the world, wafted it to kinder shores: friendlier soils, in -which it has multiplied and blossomed a thousand fold more gloriously. -And,” says I, “the wave of infidelity that is sweepin’ over it now, will -only sweep away the dross, the old dry chaff of dead creeds, -superstitions, and bigotry—it can no more harm religion than you can -scatter dust on the floor of heaven.” - -“Well,” says she, “Sam Snyder’ses wife, she that was Cassandra Bean is a -waitin’ for me and I must go.” She looked uneasy, and she told me she -would see me the next day, and started off. - -And I sot there and waited for Josiah, and when he did come I see he was -wore almost completely out, and his mean looked as bad as I ever see a -mean look. He didn’t seem to want to talk, but I would make him tell the -particulars, and finally he up and told ’em. He said he got into the -wrong buildin’—one that had pictures to show off, but didn’t take ’em. -But a clever lookin’ feller showed him the way to go to be took, way -acrost Agricultural Avenue, and he got into the wrong house there, got -into Judges Hall, right where they was a judgin’. He said he never felt -so mortified in his life. - -“I should think as much,” says I. - -But he looked still more deprested, and says he: - -“Worse is to come, Samantha.” I see by his looks he had had a tegus -time. I see he was completely unstrung, and it was my duty to try to -string him up with kindness and sympathy, and so says I almost tenderly, -“Tell your pardner all about it Josiah.” - -“I hate too,” says he. - -Says I firmly, “Josiah, you _must_.” - -“Well,” says he. “I got into another wrong room, where some wimmen was a -kinder dressin’ ’em.” - -“Josiah Allen!” says I sternly. - -“Well, who under the sun would have been a lookin’ out for any such -thing. Who would think,” says he with a deeply injured air, “that wimmen -would go a prancin’ off so fur from home before they got their dresses -hooked up, or anything.” - -I knew there was a room there a purpose for ladies to go and fix up in, -and I says more mildly—for his mean most skairt me—“I persume there was -no harm done Josiah, only most probable you skairt ’em.” - -“Skairt ’em!” says he. “I should think so; they yelled like lunys.” - -“And what did you say?” says I. - -“I told ’em,” says he, “I wanted to be took.” - -“And what did they say?” says I, for he would keep a stoppin’ in the -particulars. - -“Oh! they yelled louder than ever; they seemed to think I was crazy, and -a policeman come—” - -“And what did you tell him?” says I. - -“What _could_ I tell him?” he snapped out. “Of course I told him I -wanted to be _took_, and he said he’d take me, and he did,” says Josiah -sadly. Again the particulars stopped, and again I urged him. And says -he: “Comin’ out of that room, and down the steps so awful sudden, got my -head kinder turned round, and instead of goin’ into the picture room, I -went the wrong way and got into the Japan house.” - -[Illustration: JOSIAH “BEIN’ TOOK.”] - -“Did you make any move towards gittin’ me a Japaned dust pan?” I -interrupted of him. - -“No, I _didn’t_! I should think I see trouble enough, without luggin’ -round dust pans. I told them I wanted to be took, and they didn’t -understand me, and I come right out and offered a boy I see there, five -cents to git me headed right, and he did it.” - -Josiah stopped here, as if he wasn’t goin’ to speak another word. But -says I, “Josiah Allen was you took?” - -“_Yes_ I _was_,” he snapped out. - -“Lemme see the picture,” says I firmly. - -He hung off, and tried to talk with me on religion, but I stood firm, -and says I, “You was a lottin’ on a handsome picture, Josiah Allen.” - -“Throw that in my face will you, what if I _was_. I’d like to know if -you expect a man to have a handsome dressy expression, after he has -traipsed all over Pennsylvany, and been lost, and mortified, and helped -round by policeman, and yelled at by wimmen. And the man told me after I -sot down, to look at a certain knot-hole, and git up a brilliant happy -expression, and git inspired and animated. I did try to, but the man -told me such a gloomy expression wouldn’t do no how, and says he, ‘my -kind friend, you must look happier; think of the beautiful walk you had -a comin’ here; think of the happy scenes you passed through.’ - -“I _did_ think of ’em,” says Josiah, “and you can see for yourselves -jest how it looks.” - -It truly went ahead of anything I ever see for meachinness, and -wretchedness. But I wouldn’t say a word to add to his gloom, I only says -in a warnin’ way, “You had better keep by your pardner after this Josiah -Allen.” And I added as I heerd the hour a strikin’ from the great clock -on Machinery Hall, “It is time for us to go home.” And we went. - -[Illustration] - - - - - WIDDER DOODLE AS A BRIDE. - - -The next mornin’ we went to the grounds early and walked along the -broad, beautiful path (though very warm) and anon, we see through the -tall, noble trees on the nigh side of us, beautiful Horticultural Hall a -risin’ up lookin’ considerable like some splendid foreign pictures I had -seen of Morocco (not Morocco shoes, but jography Morocco); and there I -was calmly walkin’ along admirin’ the gorgeous, and stately but delicate -and almost dream-like beauty of the structure, when all of a sudden I -see a peaceable lookin’ old lady a comin’ along with her hair braided up -in one long braid, and her dress cut night-gown fashion; she looked cool -and comfortable and was mindin’ her own business, and carryin’ a -umberell; and in her other hand she had some things done up in a paper. -She was from some of the old countries I knew by her dress and her -curious looks—her eyes bein’ sot in sort o’ biasin’, and her complexion -was too yeller for health—she wasn’t well; she eat tea-grounds I knew -the minute I looked at her; nothin’ will give the complexion that -saffrony yeller look that tea-grounds will. And jest as she got most up -to us three young fellers begun to impose upon her. They wasn’t men, and -they wasn’t childern; they was passin’ through the land of -conceitedness, feeble whiskers, and hair-oil. - -[Illustration: POLITENESS TO A STRANGER.] - -And there she was, behavin’ herself like a perfect lady, and them three -healthy young American fellers a laughin’ and a scorfin’ and a pokin’ -fun at her—a pintin’ at her hair and her dress, and her shoes, which was -wooden—but none of their business nor mine if they was; finally one of -them took holt of her long braid and give it a yank, and called her -“John”; and she, a tryin’ to save herself, dropped her paper and it bust -open and all the things in it scattered out on the ground. As she -stooped down in a patient way and went to pickin’ ’em up, I jest advised -them young fellers for their good. I had been told that day that the -fureigners had most all of ’em had to change their own costume for ourn, -the Americans made such fun of ’em; it mortified me dretful to have my -own folks show such awful bad manners; and says I: - -“I would be ashamed of myself if I was in your places; are you such -conceited fools as to think our dress is the dress of the world, and our -ways all the ways there is under the sun? Although you probable don’t -know it, you are only a very small part of the world—a very little and -mean part. You would do well to learn a little Japan gentleness, and -some Turkey politeness,” and says I, warmly, as I looked at their pert -impudent faces, and then at her patient form—“Poles could learn you a -good deal, and they would to, if I had my way.” They started off lookin’ -kinder meachin’, and I laid to and helped her pick up her things; and I -told her she must overlook it in coots; says I, “most Americans would be -ashamed of them, as they ort to be of themselves.” - -But Josiah hunched me, and whispered: “Be you a goin’ to stand all day a -talkin’ to that man?” - -“_Man_” says I, in witherin’ tones. - -“Yes, it is a Chinaman, and do come along.” - -Says I, “Josiah Allen, it is a pity if I can’t have the privilege of -speakin’ to a likely woman, afflicted with ganders, without your up and -callin’ her a man.” - -He argued back that it was a man, but I wouldn’t multiply any more words -with him, and we went on by the broad lawn, or so they called it—though -I told Josiah it looked more like velvet than it did like any lawn I -ever see. It looked jest like the green velvet I had a bunnet made out -of when I was a girl; fresh, and green, and soft, and bright. And there -was hundreds of the most gorgeous and brilliant flower beds scattered -over it, and ornamental vases runnin’ over with vines and flowers, and -evergreens of all sorts; but I can’t describe it and wont try. - -I said before, that Horticultural Hall was dream-like in its beauty, but -as I got nearer to it I see my mistake; it was fur handsomer. I couldn’t -have drempt out such a exquisitely lovely buildin’ if I had gone to -sleep a purpose; and so I told Josiah, as we went up the broad blue -marble steps, past great century plants and oranges with oranges on ’em, -up into a lofty place filled with folks, and flights of the most elegant -steps on each side, and tall pillows standin’ up at the foot of ’em, -with clusters of lamps on top, and folks a goin’ up and down on ’em—the -stairs I mean. Goin’ right in out of the blazin’ sunshine, it seemed to -me as if I never did see coolness so cool, and greenness so green, and -shade so uncommon shady before. Never did I see such noble and almost -foamin’ lookin’ green leaves of all kinds and shapes, from the size of a -pusly leaf, to them big enough to make my Josiah a pair of pantaloons -and a overcoat. - -The floor was sort o’ openwork, with plain stripes runnin’ down through -it, sunthin’ as I knit stockins when I want ’em to look uncommon well. -But oh! how lovely it did look to me, as I glanced down as fur as I -could see ahead of me, to see clear from the floor to away up overhead, -the beautiful green branches a spreadin’ out, and the lovely poseys, and -over ’em and amongst ’em great bunches of lamps a hangin’ that looked -like drops of light as the sun shone through ’em, and stars and -ornaments of all kinds, a glistenin’ up there on the lofty ceilin’; and -down below there was white marble statutes a gleamin’ and fountains a -gushin’ out. - -There was one fountain that I took to dretfully. A noble big vase bound -with acanthus leaves, was a shootin’ up water, clear as a crystal, and -at the foot of it on some rock work, sot three handsome childern jest -ready to plunge down into the cool, wet water; one of ’em was blowin’ a -shell, he felt so awful neat. There was lots of fountains in the Hall -but none so uncommon handsome as this; and that noble fountain was the -work of a woman; and as I looked at it, I thought I should be proud and -happy to take her by the hand and say: - -“Miss Foley, I too am a woman, I am proud to sympathize with you.” - -A good lookin’ woman, dressed up slick, with a little book and pencil in -her hand spoke up and says to me: - -“It is wonderful, haint it?” - -Says I, “Wonderful haint no name for it.” - -“That’s so;” says she, and added, “have you seen the phantom leave?” or -sunthin’ like that. - -Says I, firmly, “There haint been no phantom here appearin’ to me, and -how could I see it leave?” Then thinkin’ of my vow, and likin’ her looks -first-rate, I says in a encouragin’ tone, “There has somebody been a -tryin’ to fool you mom, there haint no such things as ghosts and -phantom’ses. Ghosts and phantoms are made of moonshine, and fear and -fancy are the makers of ’em.” - -She took up her parasol—a pale blue one all covered with white lace—and -pinted right up at a glass case, and says she: - -“Phantom leaves I mean, you can see them.” - -“Oh!” says I, “I thought you meant a ghost.” They was handsome; looked -as white and delicate as the frost-work on our winders in December. - -It wasn’t probable more’n half an hour after this that my pride had a -fall. Truly, when we seem to be a standin’ up the straightest, tottlin’ -may come onto us, and sudden crumplin’ of the spiritual knees. There I -had been a boastin’ in my proud philosophical spirit that there was no -such things as phantoms, and lo, and behold! within thirty-one minutes -time, I thought I see a ghost appearin’ to me; I was skairt, and -awe-stricken. The way on’t was, Josiah beset me to go into some of the -different hot-houses in the buildin’, and I had told him firmly, that -bein’ very fleshy and warm-blooded, I was satisfied and more’n satisfied -with the heat of the place I was in; but if _he_ wasn’t—bein’ thinner in -flesh, if he felt chilly, he could go and I would meet him in a certain -place. So he went on, and I meandered back into the Main Hall. And there -I stood a lookin’ peacefully up into the boughs of a Injy Rubber tree, -and thinkin’ pensively to myself what fools anybody was to think that -rubber-boots and shoes grew right out of the tree, for they didn’t—no -such thing; they had green leaves like any tree—when all of a sudden I -heerd these words: - -“Oh Doodle! Doodle! if you was alive, I shouldn’t be in this -perdickerment!” - -If I had had some hen’s feathers by me, I should have burnt a few, or if -I had had a tea-cup of water I should have throwed some in my face, to -keep me from faintin’ away. But not havin’ none of these conveniences by -me, I see I must make a powerful effort, and try to control myself down; -and jest as I was a makin’ this effort, these words come again to my -almost rigid ear: - -“Oh Doodle! Doodle! you never would have stood by, and seen your relict -smashed to pieces right before your dear linement.” - -And as I heerd these words I see her appearin’ to me. I see the Widder -Doodle, emergin’ from the crushin’ crowd, and advancin’ onto me like a -phantom. Says I to myself, “Be you a ghost or be you a phantom? Are you -a fore-runner, Widder?” says I, “you be a fore-runner, I know you be,” -for even as I looked I see behind her the form of Solomon Cypher -advancin’ slowly on, and appearin’ to me too. I felt fearfully curious. -But in about three-fourths of a minute my senses come back—for the big -wave of folks sort o’ swept off somewhere else, and left the Widder -Doodle some like a sea-weed nigh me. And on lookin’ closer at her I see -that no respectable ghost who thought anything of itself, would go out -in company lookin’ so like furyation—I felt better, and says I: - -[Illustration: THE PHANTOM.] - -“Widder Doodle, how under the sun did you come here to the Sentinal?” - -Says she, “Samantha, I am married; I am on my tower.” - -Says I in faint axents, “Who to?” - -“Solomon Cypher,” says she. - -Again I thought almost wildly of burnt feathers, for it seemed so -fearfully curious to think she should be a double and twisted ort, as -you may say; should be a ort by name, after bein’ one by nater all her -days. But again the thought come to me, that I had no conveniences for -faintin’ away, and I must be calm, so says I, “Married to Solomon -Cypher!” - -And then it all come back to me—their talk the day he come to borry my -clothes for the mourners; her visits to his housekeeper sense; and his -strange and almost foolish errants to our house from day to day; but I -didn’t speak my thoughts, I only said: - -“Widder Doodle, what ever put it into your head to marry again?” - -Well, she said she had kinder got into the habit of marryin’, and it -seemed some like a second nater to her—and she thought Solomon had some -of Doodle’ses linement—so she thought she would marry him. She said he -offered himself in a dretful handsome style; she said the childern of -the Abbey, or Thadeus of Warsaw couldn’t done it up in any more foamin’ -and romantic way; she said he was a bringin’ her home in his wagon from -a visit I remembered her makin’ to his housekeeper. - -“Three weeks after his wife’s death!” says I. - -“Yes,” says she, “Solomon said the corpse wouldn’t be no deader than she -was then, if he waited three months, as some men did.” Says she, “The -way on’t was, I was a praisin’ up his horse and wagon—a new double wagon -with a spring seat—when all of a sudden he spoke out in a real ardent -and lover like tone: ‘Widder Doodle, if you will be my bride, the wagon -is yourn, and the mares.’ Says he, ‘Widder, I throw myself onto your -feet, and I throw the wagon and mares onto ’em; and with them and me, I -throw eighty-five acres of good land, fourteen cows, five calves, four -three year olds and a yearlin’, a dwellin’ house, a good horse barn, and -myself. I throw ’em all onto your feet, and there we lay on ’em.’ - -“He waited for me to answer and it flustrated me so that I says: ‘Oh -Doodle! Doodle! if you was alive you would tell me what to do, to do -right.’” “And that,” says she, “seemed to mad him; he looked black and -hard as a stove pipe, his forward all wrinkled up, and he yelled out -that he didn’t want to hear nothin’ about no Doodle nor he wouldn’t -neither.” Says she, “He hollered it up so, and looked so threatnin’ that -I took out my snuff handkerchief and cried onto it, and he said he’d -overlook Doodle for once, and then he said again in a kind of a solemn -and warnin’ way: ‘Widder I am a layin’ on your feet, and my property, my -land, my live stock, my housen, and my housen stuff, are all a layin’ on -’em; make up your mind, and at once, for if you don’t consent I have got -other views ahead on me, which must be seen to at once, and instantly. -Time is hastenin’, and the world is full of willin’ wimmen, Widder, what -do you say?’ - -“And then,” says she, “I kinder consented, and he said we’d be married -and he’d turn off his hired girl, and I could go right there and do the -housework, and help him what I could out doors, and tend to the milk of -fourteen cows, and be perfectly happy. He thought,” says she, “as he was -hurried with his summer’s work, we had better be married on Sunday, so’s -not to break into the week’s work; so we was.” - -Says I, “Be you perfectly happy, Widder?” - -When I asked her this in sympathizin tones, she took her snuff -handkerchief right out, and bust out a cryin’ onto it, and said she -wasn’t. - -“Does Solomon misuse you? Does he make you work too hard?” - -“Yes,” says she, “I have to work hard, but that haint my worse trouble.” -And she sithed bitterly. - -“Does he act hauty and domineerin’ and look down on you, as if you -wasn’t his equal?” - -“Yes,” says she, “but I expected that, I could stand that if I didn’t -have no harder affliction.” - -“Is he a poor provider, does he begreech you things?” - -Says she, “He is a poor provider, and he begreeches things to me, but -that haint my worse trial; he wont let me talk about Doodle. And what is -life worth to me if I can’t speak of that dear man?” Says she, “I can’t -never forget that dear Doodle, never!” - -“Well,” says I, “You ort to have thought of that before you promised -Solomon Cypher his bride you would be;” says I, “mournin’ for Doodle was -jest as honorable as anything could be; I never blamed you for it, I -stood firm. But a woman hadn’t ort to try to be a mourner for one man, -and a bride to another man at the same time; it haint reasonable; let -’em be fully perswaded in their own mind which business would be the -most happyfyin’ and profitable to ’em, and then go at it with a willin’ -heart, and foller it up.” - -Says I, “If you wanted to spend your days as a mourner you ort to have -done it as a Widder, and not as a bride.” Says I, “When a Widder woman -or a Widder man embarks in a new sea of matrimony, they ort to burn the -ship behind ’em that they sailed round with in them other waters. They -hadn’t ort to be a sailin’ round in both of ’em to once, it is -unreasonable; and it is gaulin’ to man or woman.” - -On lookin’ at her closer I see what made her look so curious. She had -tried to dress sort a bridey, and at the same time was a mournin’ a -little for Doodle; she said she wouldn’t have Solomon know it, and git -to rarin’ round for nothin’ in the world; she put on the white bobinet -lace veil to please him, but says she, “though he don’t mistrust it, my -black bead collar and jest half of my weddin’ dress means Doodle.” It -was a black and white lawn, with big even checks; and she told me (in -strict confidence) that she had got a black bombazine pocket to her -dress, and had on a new pair of black elastic garters. Says she, “I -can’t forget Doodle, I never can forget that dear man.” - -And she wont; I know she never will git over Doodle in the world. -Everything we see put her in mind of him. But about this time Josiah and -Solomon Cypher joined us, and the last named told us that the “Creation -Searchers” had all come on the day before, and was makin’ a great stir -in the village, the literary and scientific world. And he said that as -little a while as they had been here, they had found fault with a great -many things, pictures and statutes and the like; he said anybody had -_got_ to find fault and not seem to be satisfied with anything, in order -to be looked up to. He said it was a trade that, well follered up, give -anybody a great reputation. - -“Yes,” says Josiah, “I know lots of folks that have got monstrous big -reputations for wisdom in jest that way.” - -But I was sick of this talk and was glad enough when they sot off for -somewhere else. But his last words to me was: - -“Josiah Allen’s wife, we shall probable be heerd from before we leave -the village.” - -“Well,” says I, “I am willin’;” and I was. It never worries me to see -anybody git up in the world; I haint got a envious hair in my head—and I -have got a noble head of hair for one of my age. - -[Illustration] - - - - - THE ARTEMUS GALLERY. - - -The next mornin’ we went onto the ground, (Mr. Fairmount’s farm, where -the Sentinal stands) in good season. I told Josiah we would go the first -thing to the Artemus Gallery. - -“Artemus who!” says he. “I didn’t know as you knew any Artemus down -here.” - -Says I with dignity, “I don’t know the gentleman’s other name myself; -they call him Art, but _I_ wont; I have too much respect for him to nick -name that noble man.” Says I, “When any man takes such pains as Artemus -has, to git such a splendid assortment of pictures and statutes together -for my pleasure, and the pleasure of the Nation, I admire and respect -him, and feel almost affectionate towards him.” - -Presently, or soon after, the soft grey walls of that most magestic, and -beautifulest of housen, loomed up before us as we passed up into it by -some broad noble steps with a bronze horse on each side—lookin’ -considerable in the face like our old mare—only higher headed with wings -to ’em. I told Josiah that if she (the mare) was fixed off like them -with wings, we shouldn’t be all day a goin’ a mile or two. And he said, -after lookin’ close and thoughtfully at the span, that he couldn’t take -a mite of comfort a ridin’ after ’em, they looked so curious. So we went -on, by them and two as big female statutes as I most ever see, with -their minds seeminly rousted up and excited about sunthin’. But we -hadn’t much more’n got inside the door, when we felt curious again, both -on us, a seein’ George Washington a ridin’ up to heaven on the back of a -eagle. George always looks good to me, but I never see him look heavier -than he did there; he would have been a good load for a elephant. Oh -what a time that eagle was a havin’! I never was sorrier for a fowl in -my hull life. - -But oh! what lovely forms and faces was round me on every side, as I -moved on. Grace, and beauty, and sublimity, and tenderness, and softness -all carved out of hard stun marble for my delight; all painted out on -canvas and hung up for me to smile upon and weep over—for beauty always -affects me dretfully. One little piece of beauty that I could take up in -my hand, such as a bit of moss, or a sea shell, or a posey, has made me -happy for over half a day. A pussy willow bendin’ down to see its face -in the water, has reflected its grace and pretty looks right into my -soul. Why even a green grass blade in the spring of the year has had -power to cut the chains that bound my spirit down to unhappiness, and -let it soar up nobly, clear away from Jonesville, Betsey Bobbet, Widder -Doodle, and all other cares and worryments of life. And havin’ such -feelins for beauty, such a close affection for her that I was always a -lookin’ for her, even where I knew she wasn’t nor never would be; jest -imagine what my emotions must have been to walk right into acres and -acres of the most entrancin’ beauty; miles and miles of grace and -loveliness; dreams of immortal beauty caught by artist souls from heaven -knows what realm of wonder and glory, all wrought out in marble, and -painted on canvas for me to wonder at, and admire over, and almost weep -upon. - -The tears did run down my face every few minutes all through that -Artemus Gallery, entirely unbeknown to me; and I shouldn’t have sensed -it at all if I had cried out loud, for I was perfectly carried away from -myself for the time bein’. - -Oh what beautiful little white stun childern there was before me, in -every beautiful posture that childern ever got into—a laughin’ and a -cryin’, and a feedin’ birds, and a pickin’ thorns out of their feet and -a hidin’ and a seekin’. And one little bit of a girl baby was holdin’ a -bird in her hand, and she had bared her little chest on one side and was -squeezin’ up the flesh to form a breast, and holdin’ up the bird to -nurse. The roguish looks of her face would almost make a grindstun or -Zebulin Coffin smile. And there was one gittin’ ready for bed, and one -tellin’ his prayers when he didn’t want to. He looked exactly as Thomas -J. did when I married his pa. _He_ had run wild, and wouldn’t pray; I’d -git him all knelt down, and he’d say: - - I _wont_ lay me down to sleep, - I _wont_ pray the Lord my soul to keep, - I _wont_ die before I wake, - I _wont_ pray the Lord my soul to take. - -And when he’d say the Lord’s prayer, he’d say: “Lead us into -Temptation,” jest as loud as he could yell, and cross as a bear. Jest as -quick as I got him civilized down, he’d tell ’em off like a little -pasture. But oh! how cross and surly he did look at first, jest for all -the world, like this little feller. I hunched Josiah to take notice, and -he said if Thomas J. had been sculped in the act, it couldn’t look more -natteral. - -And there was such lovely female wimmen faces, innocent as angels—one -with a veil over her face; only think on it, a marble veil, and I a -seeing’ right through it. - -But there was some Italian statutes that instinctively I got between and -Josiah, and put my fan up, for I felt that he hadn’t ort to see ’em. -Some of the time I felt that he was too good to look at ’em, and some of -the time I felt that he wasn’t good enough; for I well knew when I come -to think it over, that human nater wasn’t what it once was, in Eden, and -it wasn’t innocence, but lack of innocence that ailed folks. But whether -he was too good, or not good enough, and I couldn’t for my life tell -which; either way I felt it wasn’t no place for him; so I hurried him -through on a pretty good jog. - -[Illustration: SAMANTHA IN THE ART GALLERY.] - -And among the statutes of my own Nation, was Aurora; it seems as if it -struck me about as hard a blow as any of ’em. To see that beautiful -figger of Mornin’ risin’ right up sailin’ over the earth with her feet -on nothin’; her arms over her head scatterin’ the brightness of day down -in roses upon the earth, and the stars and the shadders of night a -fallin’ away from her; it was as beautiful a marble thought, as I ever -laid eyes on—or I’d think so till I see some other one, and then I’d -think _that_ was the beautifulest. There was Nydia the blind girl of -Pompeii! What pain and helplessness was on her face, and what a divine -patience born of sufferin’. What a countenance that was! And then there -was two little Water Babies layin’ in a sea shell—I don’t believe there -was ever any cunniner little creeters in the hull world. - -And havin’ such feelins for her, feelin’ so sort o’ intimate with her -and Hamlet, it was very affectin’ to me to see Ophelia, a lookin’ jest -as I have heerd Thomas J. read about her. She was standin’ holdin’ some -flowers in her dress with one hand, and with the other hand she was -holdin’ out a posey jest as if she was a sayin’: - -“There’s rosemary, that’s for rememberance; pray you love remember, and -there’s pansies that’s for thoughts.” She was dressed up in store -clothes too, which was indeed a treat, and a sweeter face I don’t want -to see. And then there was a noble group—Death a tryin’ to kill Honor, -and couldn’t. Strength and Courage and Perseverance had gone down before -him, but Honor he couldn’t kill; it was a very noble and inspirin’ -sight. And Media was another dretful affectin’ statute to me; what -trials and tribulations that woman did go through, killin’ her childern, -and ridin’ after serpents, and everything. I was some acquainted with -her (through Thomas Jefferson.) - -And then there was Night and Mornin’; I never see ’em look better in my -life, either of ’em. And Ruth a gleanin’; she was a kneelin’ down on one -knee, and looked first-rate, though I did think it would have been -better if she had pulled her dress waist up where it belonged. -Howsumever, everybody to their own mind. There was two statutes of -Cleopatra, pretty nigh together, one by a man, and one by a woman. Mebby -you’ll think I am parshal to my sect, but if I wasn’t a woman—if I was a -man—I’d say and I’d contend for it that _her_ Cleopatra looked fur -handsomer and better than _hisen_. And there was a minute man, that -looked stern and noble, and as if he would be right there jest to the -minute. - -But what’s the use of tryin’ to tell what pictures was the loveliest, -amidst such acres and acres of loveliness, such sweet and nearly -bewitchin’ faces, such lovely and almost glowin’ landscapes. - -There was “Yankey Doodle” as interestin’ as I always knew that yankey -was; I never see him look better than he did here; there stood three -generations with the soul of 1776 a shinin’ through their faces, and the -oldest face of all was lit up with the deepest glow and inspiration. It -was a dretful animatin’ and inspirin’ picture to me and to Josiah. And -then there was another picture called “Elaine” that dealt both my mind -and my heart fearful blows. I had heerd Thomas J. read about her so much -that she seemed almost like one of the relations on the side of the -Smiths. She was a handsome girl, and likely as she could be, but she got -disappointed, fell in love with Mr. Launcelot—and he, bein’ in love with -another man’s wife, couldn’t take to her, so she died off. But her last -request was to be laid, after she died, in a boat with a letter in her -hand for him she died off for, biddin’ him good-bye; and that the -boat—steered by her father’s dumb hired man—should float off down to -Camelot where he was a stayin’ a visitin’. (I don’t s’pose I have told -it in jest exactly the words, Thomas J. reads so much, but I have -probable got the heads of the story right). And there she lay, perfectly -lovely—in her right hand, the lily, and in her left the letter; the dead -steered by the dumb, floatin’ down the still waters. It was exceedinly -affectin’ to me, and I was jest a goin’ to take out my white cotton -handkerchief to cry onto it, when all of a sudden I heerd behind me the -voice of the Editor of the Auger a sayin’: - -“It is a false perspective.” - -“Yes,” says Cornelius Cork, in the same fault-findin’ tone: “it’s awful -false, not a mite of truth in it.” - -“A perfect lie,” says Shakespeare Bobbet. - -“The tone is too low down,” says the Editor of the Auger again, in a -complainin’ way. - -“Low down again as it ort to be,” says old Bobbet. - -I declare for’t, I jest locked arms with Josiah and hurried him off, and -never stopped till we got clear into Austria. But on the way there, I -says, “How mad it makes me, Josiah Allen, to see anybody find fault and -sneer at things they can’t understand.” - -“Well,” says Josiah mildly, “you know they have got a reputation to keep -up, and they are bound to do it. Why, they say if anybody haint dressed -up a mite, if you see ’em a lookin’ at handsome pictures, or statutes, -or anything of that sort, with a cold and wooden look to their faces, -and turning their noses up, and finding fault, you may know they are -somebody.” “I s’pose” says Josiah, “the ‘Creation Searchers’ can’t be -outdone in it; I s’pose they put on as hauty and superior-silly-ous -looks as anybody ever did, that haint had no more practice than they -have.” - -Josiah will make a slip sometimes, and says I, “you mean super-silly, -Josiah.” - -“Well, I knew there was a silly to it. They say,” says Josiah, “that -runnin’ things down is always safe; _that_ never hurts anybody’s -reputation. The pint is, they say, in not bein’ pleased with anything, -or if you be, to conceal it, look perfectly wooden, and not show your -feelins a mite; that is the pint they say.” - -Says I, “The pint is, some folks always did make natteral fools of -themselves, and always will I s’pose.” - -“Well,” says Josiah, “there must be _sunthin’_ in it, Samantha, or there -wouldn’t be such a lot a gittin’ up a reputation for wisdom in that -way.” - -I couldn’t deny it without lyin’, and so bein’ in Austria, as I said, I -commenced lookin’ round me. Comin’ right out of the United States I -couldn’t help thinkin’ that Austria had a meller, rich look, sunthin’ -like Autumn in the fall of the year, while the United States looked -considerable like Summer. The picture that arrested my attention first -and foremost in Austria was, “Venice paying homage to Caterina Cornaro.” -It was a noble big picture, as big as one hull side of our house a most. -I looked at that picture very admirinly and so did Josiah. We see a -Emperor on a bust, and other interestin’ statutes; we give a glance at a -sleepin’ Nymph—she was as handsome as a doll, but I thought then and I -think still, that if Nymphs would put on store clothes, they would look -better, and feel as well again. - -“Convulsed with Grief,” was a beautiful picture but fur too affectin’ -for my comfort. It was a bier all covered with flowers, and a dead child -lyin’ on it with a veil thrown over its face, but painted in such a way -that the beautiful white face was plain to be seen under it; and the -mother was settin’ by it with grief, and agony, all painted out on her -face. And as I looked on her, the tears jest started on a run down my -cheeks, for though I well knew it was one of the sweetest and holiest -things in life to become the mother of a baby angel, still I knew it was -one of the saddest things too. I knew that mother heart where the pretty -head had lain, was as empty and lonesome as a bird’s nest in winter; and -the shadder of the little low grave would be high enough to cast its -blackness and gloom over the hull earth. I felt for that mother so that -I come pretty near cryin’ out loud. But I didn’t; I took out my white -cotton handkerchief and wiped both of my eyes, and composed myself down. - -And then feelin’ a little tired I seated myself on a bench in the middle -of the room, Josiah sayin’ that he wanted to look at the Alps, and one -or two convents, and a “Bull Dog.” But I watched him out of one corner -of my speck, and I see that he never went nigh ’em, but kep’ a lookin’ -at a “Centeur carryin’ off a Nymph” and a “Siesta of a Oriental Woman” -and a “Nun’s Revery,” and a “Smilin’ Girl,” and some sirens, and other -females. But I didn’t care; I haint got a jealous hair in the hull of my -foretop, or back hair; and I well know the state of my pardner’s -morals,—brass is no sounder. And I couldn’t help takin’ it as a -compliment, and feelin’ flattered in behalf of my sect, to see all -through the Sentinal, how sot men did seem to be a lookin’ at the -pictures and statutes of wimmen. They looked at ’em as much again as -they did at the figgers of their own sect; and it showed plain to me, -that though they do some on ’em seem to feel rather hauty and -proud-spirited towards us, they do think a sight on us—as a race. - -So there I sot bounded by beauty on every side of me, and happy as a -queen, when a likely lookin’ woman come in and sot down by me. Says she, -“I have jest been a lookin’ at the Gobelin tapistry.” - -“Why how you talk!” says I, “I never believed there was any such things -as Gobelins or spooks.” - -“I mean men;” says she, “men that foller the trade of the Gobelins.” - -“Oh Gobblers?” says I in a enquirin’ tone. - -“Weavers,” says she. “They set at the back of their frame and never see -the right side of their work till the picture is finished, and each -color they weave in has twenty different shades.” - -“How you talk!” says I, and seein’ she had a kind of a knowin’ look, as -if she would understand episodin’; (I hate to episode to anybody that -don’t know what I’m a doin’.) I says to her, “That is a good deal like -our lives, haint it; we set in the dark a weavin’ in our actions day by -day, every act havin’ more’n forty different shades and motives to it, -and we can’t tell how the picture looks from the other side till our -work is done, and the frame laid down.” - -“That is so,” says she. And then we both went to look at ’em, and Josiah -went too; and such weavin’ I never see before, nor never expect to -again. One of ’em was Mrs. Penelope settin’ a weavin’ her web. A likely -creeter she was. After her husband was dragged off to war she would set -and weave all day, and rip it all out at night, for she had promised to -marry again when she had got her weavin’ done; and hated to. I have -heerd Thomas J. read about her, and always took right to her. We had -jest finished lookin’ at her, and I was a goin’ to tackle some of the -pictures, when a slimmish sort of a girl, by the side of us says to -another one, in reply to a question: - -“Yes, I have jest come from there; it is the greatest exhibition of -Antique art ever seen in this country. Pottery, crockery ware, marbles, -and jewelry, twenty-three hundred years old, some of it.” - -Josiah hunched me, and give me a wink; as excited and agitated a wink as -I ever see wunk. And says I, “What is the matter Josiah, you scare me.” - -Says he in a loud excitable whisper: - -“Now is my time, Samantha. You have wanted me to buy sunthin’ for Tirzah -Ann to remember the Sentinal by, and I can probable git some things here -cheap as dirt, if they are as old as that, and they’ll be jest as good -for her as new; they’ll last till she gits sick of ’em. I will see old -Antique, and try to make a dicker with him.” - -Says I, “If I had a only girl by my first wife, and was as well off as -_you_ be, I wouldn’t try to git second hand jewelry or old crockery for -’em, because I could git ’em for little or nothin’.” - -But he was sot on it, and so we went in and looked round, tryin’ to find -sunthin’ that would suit her. There was lots and lots of things, but I -couldn’t see a article that I thought she would want and told him so; -there was some big platters with humbly faces painted on ’em, and bowls -and vases and jars. One little bowl was marked “Anno Jubilee 1600,” and -Josiah says, “Don’t you s’pose that would do, Samantha? S’posen Ann has -used it, she haint hurt it, and it would be handy to feed the—” - -Says I, “Josiah Allen, it don’t look half so well as bowls she has got -by her now.” - -“Well,” says he, “I could git it cheap, its bein’ so awful old, and I -believe it would be as good for her, as a new one.” - -“Well,” says I, “before you decide, less look round a little more.” - -It does beat all how many things was marked Anno Domina; Josiah said he -wondered what under the sun Ann wanted of so much jewelry and stuff, and -he thought it looked extravagant in her. - -Says he with a dreamy look “Mebby Ann would have left sunthin’ to our -girl, if she had known she was named after her—as it were.” - -Says I, “Josiah Allen don’t try to git off on that track.” Says I, “It -is bad enough to buy second-handed jewelry without plottin’ round tryin’ -to git it for nothin’.” - -So finally he picked out a ring of carved stone, sardonic, I think I -heerd it called, and says he: “this will be just as good for Tirzah Ann -as sunthin’ that would cost a dollar or ten shillin’,” says he “I will -give old Antique ten cents for it, and not try to beat him down. Do you -s’pose the old man would ask any more for it?” says he, addressin’ a -middle aged, iron grey man a standin’ near us. “He dug ’em out of old -graves and ruins, I hear; they can’t be worth much to him.” - -“You can learn the price from Signor Alessandro Castellani.” - -“Who?” says Josiah. - -“The gentleman who owns the collection, the head of the Italian -Commission. There he is a comin’ this way now.” He was a good lookin’ -chap, with a animated eager look to his face. And when he got up to us -Josiah says to him, “How much is that little sardonic ring?” - -Says he, in a pleasant way though sort o’ foreign in axent, “That ring -sir, is eight hundred dollars.” - -My pardner stood with his head bent forward, and his arms hangin’ down -straight, in deep dumb founder. Finally he spoke, and says he in low -agitated axents, “How much do you call the hull lot of old stuff worth?” - -“Two hundred thousand dollars,” says he. - -Says Josiah, “I thought five dollars would buy the hull. I guess we had -better be goin’ Samantha.” After we got out, I says “I guess, Josiah -Allen, you wish you had heerd to me.” - -“Dummit! who thought they were such fools?” says he. - -Says I sternly, “Josiah Allen, it scares me to think you have got to be -such a profane swearer,” says I “you never swore such profane oaths in -your hull life before, as you have sense you have been on your tower. -What would your pasture say if he could hear you? And you call ’em -fools,” says I, “I guess they haint the only fools in the world!” - -“Who said they _wuz_,” says he. And then he spoke up and says he, “I -guess I will go out and look at some mules, and steers.” - -“Well,” says I more mildly, “Mebby you had better.” And we agreed when -it was time to go home, to meet at the Department of Public Comfort. - -So Josiah went to look at the live stock, (he seemed to enjoy himself -better when he was in that situation) and I wandered round through them -wildernesses of entrancin’ beauty, perfectly happy (as it were.) I had -roamed round mebby an hour, lookin’ at the pictures and statutes that -lined the walls on every side, not mindin’ the crowd a mite, some of the -time a laughin’ and some of the time a cryin’ (entirely unbeknown to -me.) I was a standin’ in Germany, enjoyin’ myself dretfully, for the -Germans are a affectionate, social race, and their pictures of home life -are exceedin’ly interestin’ and agreeable, to one who loves home as does -she, whose name was once Smith. And then there was pictures that would -make you smile, such as “Buying the Cradle,” and “The Disagreement.” And -there was lovely landscapes, and grand and inspirin’ pictures. I had -jest been a lookin’ at “Christ Appearing to Mary Magdelane,” a noble -picture; our Saviour clad in white like Eternal Purity, and she rushing -forward with outstretched arms and her face all lit up with joy and -adoration. I had jest left this picture and was a lookin’ at “Luther -Intercepted,” and thinkin’ how sort o’ lonesome the woods looked, and -how sorry I was for Luther—when all of a sudden I heerd a awe-stricken -whisper on the nigh side of me: - -[Sidenote: INTERVIEW WITH DOM PEDRO] - -“There is the Emperor of Brazil! There is Dom Pedro!” - -And lookin’ up I see a tall man with greyish whiskers and mustache, come -in in a quiet way with a little book in his hand, and go to lookin’ at -the pictures. For nearly three quarters of a moment I felt strange, -curious, exceedingly so. But Principle showed me jest what to do, to do -right, and Duty locked arms with me and bore me onwards, right up in -front of that noblest of men, for I felt that I ort to make some move -towards gettin’ acquainted with him. I took it right to myself; he was a -literary man; I was a literary woman; he was on a tower of investigation -and principle; I too, was on such a tower; and I knew if I should go to -Brazil to get Brazil nuts or anything, if I should happen to go to his -neighborhood to any doin’s where he was, and he shouldn’t make any move -towards gettin’ acquainted with me, I should feel hurt. I shouldn’t be -mad, but it would grieve me—work on my feelin’s. And so thinks’es I, I -wont stand on no ceremony but do as I would be done by, and scrape -acquaintance with him. - -[Illustration: SAMANTHA MEETS DOM PEDRO.] - -I am very polite when I set out to be. Anybody to see me appear -sometimes, would almost think I was born in a meetin’ house. I have a -very noble way to me sometimes, it comes natural, and I put on now, the -very best mean I had by me, and curchied nobly. And though I do say it -that shouldn’t, I can make as good lookin’ a curchy as any woman of my -age and size when I set out. Of course I can’t put in all the little -curious motions I could if I weighed less than two hundred, but I did -well. And jest as I got through curchyien I spoke up in a very polite, -but calm tone: “How do you do Mr. Pedro?” - -They call him Dom, a nickname for Dombey, I s’pose. But I always think -it looks better for females to be sort o’ reserved and dignified, and so -I called him Mr. Pedro. And says I, “I will make you acquainted with -Josiah Allen’s wife.” - -He looked at me kinder searchin’ like, and then when I had a full look -at him, I could see that he looked well. Though, like myself, he -couldn’t be called handsome, he had a good look to his face. His eyes -had that sort of a weary look, considerable sad, and considerable -hopeful too, and very deep and searchin’, jest as if they had looked a -good deal at things that worried and perplexed him; just as if they had -looked at bigotry, and prejudice, and ignorance, and then seen, clear -acrost ’em the sunlight of education, and freedom, and true religion a -dawnin’ on the land he loved. I don’t know when I have seen a face that -I liked better. And my admirin’ and reverential emotions riz up so that -I never spoke about the weather—or asked him whether he was enjoyin’ -good health, or whether Miss Pedro and the rest of his folks was as well -as could be expected, or anything—but I spoke right up and says I in -tones tremblin’ with emotion: - -“I have been on towers before, Mr. Pedro, and have felt noble and grand -on ’em, but never did I feel so lifted up on any tower as I do now. -Never, never, did I meet a literary man that I feel such emotions -towards, either on a tower or offon it.” - -And as I went on I grew more and more agitated, and eloquent; why, I -felt so eloquent that I see there wasn’t no use to try to stop myself, -and I says in fearfully noble axents: - -“When a man in a lofty station like yourn, instead of spendin’ his days -admirin’ himself, works earnest, hard work to benefit the people God -placed in his keepin’; studies day and night how to advance their -interests, in every way, and raise them up and make them prosperous and -happy; that man Mr. Pedro, raises himself from 35 to 40 cents in my -estimation. And when that literary, and noble minded man gets down out -of his high chair—soft as royalty and a people’s devotion can make -it—and sets off on a tower to collect information to still further -benefit them, he raises himself still further up in my estimation, he -still further endears himself to her whose name was formally Smith. -For,” says I wipin’ my heated forward, “I feel a sympathizin’ feelin’ -for him; I too, am literary, and a investigator in the cause of right, I -too am on a tower.” - -He looked dretful sort o’ earnest at me, and surprised. I s’pose it kind -o’ took him back, and almost skairt him to see a woman so awful -eloquent. But I kep’ right on, unbeknown to me. Says I “Some kings look -down on the people as if they was only dust for their throne to rest on; -while _they_ set up on it, with their crown on, a playin’ with their -septer, and countin’ over their riches and admirin’ themselves. But,” -says I, “such feelin’s felt towards the people makes the waves of angry -passions rise up below, muddy waves of feelin’, underminin’ the throne, -and tottlin’ it right over. But when a ruler plants the foundations of -his throne in Justice, and goodness, and the hearts of his people, they -are firm foundations, and will stand a pretty good shakin’ before -tumblin’ down.” - -Says I (still entirely unbeknown to me) “Some folks thinks it lifts ’em -up and makes ’em higher and nobler, if they have somebody beneath ’em to -look down on and feel contemptuous towards; but it haint Christ-like. -And they who are the most like Him, the loftiest, truest souls, have the -most generous and helpful spirit, the tenderest compassion for them who -are accounted beneath them. They would much rather offend an equal, than -to add, by a word or a look, to the burdens of those already burdened by -a sense of their poverty and inferiority. And that is one reason why I -always liked the sun Mr. Pedro, why I always fairly took to him: because -he is so great and noble and royal hearted, and with all his kingly and -soarin’ grandeur, has such awful tender streaks to him, so thoughtful -and helpful to the little neglected cast off things of the earth. If he -turns the cold shoulder to any one, it is to the high, the hauty, and -the big feelin’. How different he appears how much more cold and icy his -mean is to the loftiest mountain peaks, to what it is to the little -cowslip blow and blue-eyed violet down by the swamp, or the low grasses -growin’ in fence corners and by the door-steps of the poor. How warm and -almost tender he is to them, never twittin’ them of their worthlessness -and how much he has done for them, but smilin’ right down on ’em, -helpin’ ’em to grow, and makin’ no fuss about it. Not a mite afraid of -losin’ his dignity the sun haint, when he is bendin’ himself down to -lift up a myrtle blow, or encourage a skairt little dandelion, trampled -down by the side of the road. He has got a big job of shinin’ on his -hands. He has took the job of lightin’ the world, and he haint got no -time or disposition to be exclusive and nurse his dignity, as little -naters do, and he don’t need to.” - -I knew by the expression of Mr. Pedro’s face, that he mistrusted that I -was comparin’ him to the sun, and bein’ so modest—jest like all great -naters—it was fairly distressin’ to him. And givin’ a glance round the -room, at the noble pictures, and gorgeous doin’s, he says: - -“I congratulate you all Madam, on your great display. I see much to -admire.” - -That man is a perfect gentleman, if there ever was one. But I wasn’t -goin’ to be outdone in politeness; I wasn’t goin’ to have him feel -uncomfortable because we had better doin’s than he had to home. And so -says I, “Yes, we have got up a pretty fair show, but you mustn’t think -we have such doin’s every day Mr. Pedro. Columbia has got her high -heeled shoes on, as you may say, and is showin’ off, tryin’ to see what -she can do. She has been keepin’ house for a hundred years, and been a -addin’ to her house every year, and repairin’ of it and gettin’ housen -stuff together, and now she is havin’ a regular house warmin’, to show -off, what a housekeeper she is.” - -Again he said with that courteous and polite look of hisen: that “it was -a grand, and instructive scene; nothing like it had met his eyes in his -own land. He didn’t blame the nation for the pride they felt, it was -deserved; the display was grand, magnificent, and the country was -prosperous; in traveling through it he had been delighted and amazed.” - -I thought then, he was so generous, and praised us up so, it would be -polite for me to sort o’ run ourselves down, a very little. Principle -wouldn’t let me run far, and says I: - -“Yes, our American Eagle has laid quite a pile of eggs and hatched out -quite a quantity of likely growin’ states and territories, and I don’t -know as she ort to be blamed too much if she does cackle pretty loud, -and look as wise, and satisfied, and knowin’ as a hen turkey.” - -And then thinkin’ it would be very polite in me to turn the subject away -from our national and personal glory, I spoke out in as friendly a tone -as I had by me—for I truly felt as if the nation and I couldn’t do too -much, or say too much to show our admiration and appreciation for the -smartest and sensiblest monarch we ever had amongst us. Says I in a real -neighborly tone: - -“How is your wife, Mr. Pedro? How glad I should be if you and she could -come to Jonesville before you go down home, and make us a good visit;” -says I, “I would love to git acquainted with her and so would Josiah; -and I don’t s’pose I shall ever git so far from home as Brazil, for -Josiah and me don’t visit much anyway, and South America seems to be -sort o’ out of our way. But”—says I, in that same friendly, and almost -affectionate manner—“don’t wait for us Mr. Pedro, if you and she can -come now, or after you git home, come right up; we shall be glad and -proud to see you at any time.” And then I happened to think, what I had -heerd about her enjoyment of poor health, and says I, “How is Theresy’s -lameness now, does she git any the better of it?” - -He thanked me dretful polite, and said she “wasn’t any better.” - -“Did she ever try any arneky?” says I, “I do believe if she should try -that and yarrer, she would git help.” - -He said he didn’t think she ever had. - -“Well,” says I, “I can recommend it to her, and I haint the only one. If -she has any doubts of its bein’ good, let her go right to Miss Archibald -Gowdey and she’ll convince her.” Says I, “Miss Gowdey told me with her -own mouth that her brother’s wife’s grandmother was bed rid with -lameness and she took arneky and wormwood, half and half, and steeped -’em up in vinegar, and put in one or two red peppers to git up a -circulation on the outside, and took boneset and yarrer on the inside, -and in three weeks time she felt like a new critter—could have waltzed -if it wasn’t for her principles (she was a Methodist and wouldn’t be -catched at it.) And I believe my soul if Miss Pedro should try it she -would feel the good effects of it. And you tell her from me that if she -haint brought up any herbs with her, or got any good vinegar by her, -I’ll furnish her in welcome and it shant cost her a cent. I have got a -piller case full of yarrer, and other herbs accordin’, and as good a -hogset of vinegar as ever made its own mother.” - -He felt well, Mr. Pedro did. He kinder laughed with his eyes, he took it -so well in me, and he said he’d “mention it to the Empress.” - -“Well,” says I, “so do; she needn’t be a mite afraid of takin’ the -boneset and yarrer, for we have used ’em in our own family. My Josiah is -kinder spindlin’, springs and falls, and I give it to him.” Says I, -“Josiah looked so bad when he began to take it last fall that I was -awful afraid I shouldn’t winter him through. He looked like a bean -pole.” - -All of a sudden, jest as I said bean pole, a thought came to me that -mortified me awfully. Comin’ off so sudden as I had from his Theresy’s -sickness onto my Josiah’s, bewailin’ their two feeblenesses as I had, -and dwellin’ so on their two enjoyments of poor health, I didn’t know -but he would think I was a actin’ some like Hamlet’s ghost, I have heerd -Thomas J. read about, “Movin’ on towards a design.” - -And I wouldn’t have him think so for the world, or git any false idees -or false hopes and expectations into his head. Mr. Pedro is a sensible, -smart, good-hearted feller; we are both literary, and investigatin’, and -our minds are congenial, very. But if my Josiah should die off, I never -should marry again, never. Life nor death can’t part two souls that are -bound completely up in each other. No, when the clay that wraps them two -souls round drops away from one of ’em, it only makes ’em nearer to each -other. And so in the name of Principle I mildly but firmly sort o’ -changed the conversation, and told him “Be sure and give my best -respects to Miss Pedro, and tell her not to feel hurt at all if I don’t -call on her while we are here to the village, for we can’t stay more -than three days longer anyway, for we have got a settin’ hen that must -be seen to, and other important business that calls us home. And we have -got sights and sights of things to see before we go, and so have you I -know; so I wont detain you another minute, though I’d love to visit with -you longer.” And then I curchied again the best I knew how, and he bowed -very pleasant and agreeable. I went and set down again for a few moments -and Mr. Pedro walked round the room a little more, a lookin’ at the -pictures and talkin’ with some of his mates, and they’d look at me every -little while, dretful smilin’. They felt friendly to me I know, I had -appeared well, I knew it and they knew it. There was a woman amongst ’em -that a bystander standin’ by me said was the Empress. But I knew better; -I knew if it had been his wife, Mr. Pedro would have made me acquainted -with her, and been glad of the chance. - -I did not see Josiah when I entered into the Department of Public -Comfort. But there were enough there to be sociable; you wouldn’t be apt -to feel lonesome. Never! never was I so nearly crushed, never did I see -such a crowd; our faces were all red, our bodies wet with perspiration -and sweat; I can compare our situation to nothin’ but red rossberrys -when you make jam of ’em. It was truly a tegus time. And I sithed out to -myself several times, “Is this a Department of Comfort Samantha? Tell me -Josiah Allen’s wife is this Comfort, or what is it?” I would thus -question myself almost wildly as I made nearly frantic efforts to keep -my breath in my body, and my body hull and sound on the outside of my -breath. Finally, I got kinder wedged in so my back was to the wall, and -I began to breath easier, and feel happy. But little as I thought it, a -worse trial was in front of me. - -There was a tall sepulchral lookin’ chap standin’ right by the side of -me, and I s’pose seein’ I had such a friendly and noble mean on me, he -began to talk with me about the Sentinal and so 4th. And finally puttin’ -on a kind of a confidential, but important look, he says: - -“Keep your composure mom, and don’t be afraid of me, I am a lecturer -mom.” - -He see by my mean that I wasn’t skairt, and he went on and continued: - -“Yes, I am a lecturer on spiritualism,” and says he, “Do you believe in -spirits mom?” - -“Yes,” says I “some.” And I added in a cautious tone for I didn’t like -his looks a mite. “What spirits do you mean, and how many?” - -“Why spirits,” says he, “common spirits.” - -“Well” says I “I believe in the spirit of true Christianity, and the -spirit of the age, and on bein’ in good spirits all you can, and when -you see meanness a goin’ on, in bein’ sort o’ proud spirited; and I -believe in spirits of turpentine, and—” - -But he interrupted of me. “I see Madam you are ignorant of our glorious -spirit manifestations. Oh what a time we had last night.” - -“What did they manifest,” says I calmly, “and how many?” - -“Why,” says he, “Elizabeth Browning tipped the table over nobly last -night. I never see Elizabeth do better. She would catch our hats off, -and grab hold of our hands; I tell you Lib was lively last night. And -George Washington! I never see George git friskier than he did. He would -ontie us, jest as fast as anybody would tie us up; George would.” - -“Well,” says I calmly, “the Bible says ‘we shall be changed,’ and truly -I should think as much, though I can’t say as the change would be for -the better if George Washington haint found no better employment for his -immortal soul than ontyin’ tow strings. And truly the change in Mrs. -Browning is great, if she feels like catchin’ off men’s hats, and -grabbin’ holt of their hands, and foolin’ round.” - -Says he rollin up his eyes: “That unseen world, the land we come from so -lately and will return to so soon, is very near to us; it is all round -and about us; only a breath divides us from it. Who dare deny that we -get tidings from it? Who dare deny that voices of warning, or greeting -comes to us, exiles from that true fatherland, home of the soul?” - -He was nearly eloquent, and says I in reasonable axents, “I haint denied -it, only it seems to me that anything so sweet and solemn and holy would -be revealed to us in some other way than through the legs of a pine -table. It does seem to me that He who rides on the whirlwind and the -clouds, and who has the winds and waves for His messengers, wouldn’t -find it necessary to tie a man up in a little bass-wood box in order to -reveal His will to us. Howsumever, I don’t say it haint so, I only tell -my own idees; other folks have a right to theirn. But I told him I -guessed I would be excused from goin’ to see the spirits perform, as I -didn’t seem to have no drawins that way.” - -He acted surly, but I didn’t care a mite; and jest that minute I see my -pardner a tryin’ to enter into the abode of Comfort. I will not try to -paint my agony nor hisen, on our way to each other, and on our way out. -Josiah groaned out that he had had enough Comfort to last him the hull -of a long life; and I groaned back again that a very little more Comfort -would have been the death of me. But we got out alive, which we felt was -indeed a blessin’. - -[Illustration] - - - - - VARIOUS MATTERS. - - -The next day was Sunday, and if it hadn’t been we couldn’t have gone -anywhere. We was sick critters, me and Josiah both; a sort of a Collery -Morbeus. Some called it the Sentinal gripe. It was very fashionable to -have it, though that didn’t make a mite of difference with Josiah or me; -we don’t foller up the fashion so close as some do. Fashion or no -fashion, it wasn’t nothin’ we wanted. Josiah felt better towards night, -and went out for a little walk, and when he come back, says he: - -“The ‘Creation Searchers’ got into a real scrape last night; was took up -for vagrants and shet up in the Station House, the hull ten on ’em.” - -“How you talk!” says I. - -“Yes, I met Sam Snyder jest now and he told me all about it. You see -their spectacles blinded ’em so, not bein’ used to ’em, that they got to -wanderin’ off, and got lost and couldn’t find the way back, till it got -most midnight, and the policemen took ’em up, thinkin’ they was either -crazy or fools. It seems they’d all stand in a row, and tell him they -was ‘Creation Searchers,’ thinkin’ it would scare him; and he’d holler -back to ’em, that he’d ‘Creation Search’ ’em, if they didn’t move on. -And then they’d tell him they was ‘World Investigators;’ and he’d tell -’em he’d ‘investigate’ ’em with a club if they didn’t start along. Then -they’d try to scare him again. They would all stand still and tell him -they was ‘takin’ moments of the Sentinal, and collectin’ information;’ -and he’d sass ’em right back, that he’d help ’em to ‘information;’ and -then he’d kick ’em. I s’pose they had a awful time, but he got help and -shet ’em up.” - -[Illustration: IN TROUBLE.] - -[Sidenote: THE “CREATION SEARCHERS” AT THE SENTINAL] - -Says I firmly,—“Them spectacles will be the ruination of ’em, Josiah.” - -“I know it,” says he, “but they have got a reputation to keep up, and -will wear ’em.” - -The next mornin’, feelin’ sort o’ weak and mauger, we thought we would -ride to the Sentinal; and jest as we stepped out into the street, a man -from the Grand Imposition Hotel hailed a big covered wagon, and it -stopped and he got in. It was jest as full as it could be, seeminly; but -the driver said there was “sights of room,” so we got in. - -I thought I had seen close times, and tight times, in days that was past -and gone, but I found that I knew nothin’ about the words. Why, a tower -two miles in length, like that, would have been my last tower. It wasn’t -so much that I hadn’t a mite of room, and stood on nothin’, and was -squeezed to that extent that a corset was as unnecessary as blinders on -a blind man; but I expected the ruff would come onto me every minute, -such a tramplin’ round on it. And there I was with my arms pinned to my -sides as close as if I was broke in to and they was bandaged to me for -splinters. Oh! the tegusness of that time! And my pardner, another mummy -by my side, a sweatin’ more prespiration than I would have thought -possible, and couldn’t git his hands to his face, to save him; and we a -groanin’, and more men a clamberin’ up on the outside, and hangin’ on -with one hand, and more wimmen dragged up to suffer on the inside. Oh, -never! never! did 10 cents buy such a terrible amount of bodily and -mental agony as that 10 cents did. - -[Sidenote: MACHINERY HALL] - -But it passed away (the wagon) as all other sufferin’ will, if you give -it time. The little turnin’ stile creaked round with us, and we started -straight for Machinery Hall, for Josiah said he fairly hankered after -seein’ the big “Careless Enjun,” and the great “Corrupt Gun.” The minute -we entered into that buildin’ we had sunthin’ to think about. - -We went through the three avenues. Josiah thought they was forty miles -in length, each one of ’em. I, myself, don’t believe they was, though -they was very, very lengthy, and piled completely full of usefulness, -beauty and distraction. Every trade in the known world a goin right on -there before our face and eyes, and we a walkin’ along a seein’ of -’em:—jewelers a jewelin’; rubber shoemakers a rubbin’; weavers, of all -sorts and kinds, a weavin’; and bobbins a bobbin’; rock-crushers a -crushin’; fanners a fannin’; lacers a lacin’; silk-worms a silkin’; -butterfly-makers a butterflyin’; paper-makers a paperin’; printers, of -all kinds, a printin’; and gas-makers a gassin’; elevators a elevatin’; -steamers a steamin’; and pumpers a pumpin’; sewin’ machines a sewin’; -braiders a braidin’; and curlers a curlin’; rollers a rollin’; and -gymnastickers a gymnastickin’; wrenchers a wrenchin’; chucks a chuckin’; -drills a drillin’ and gaugers a gaugin’; railroad signals, and frogs; -switches a switchin’; bridges; railroads; steamships; threshin’ -machines, all in full blast; and cataracks a catarackin’; and if there -was anything else in the known world that wasn’t a goin’ on there, I -would love to have somebody mention it. - -The noise was truly distractin’; but if anybody could stand the wear and -tear of their brains and ears, it was one of the most instructive and -interestin’ places the world ever afforded to man or woman. Why, if -there hadn’t been another thing in the hull buildin’, that great -“Careless Enjun” alone, was enough to run anybody’s idees up into -majestic heights and run ’em round and round into lofty circles and -spears of thought, they hadn’t never thought of runnin’ into before. And -there was everything else under the sun to see, and we see it; and -everything under the sun to hear, and we heerd it. Though I can’t be -expected to describe upon it, for I had to keep such a eye onto myself -to keep myself collected together. Why, the noise of my sewin’ machine -will make my head ache so sometimes, that I can’t stand it; and then -think of takin’ the noise of seventy or eighty thunder-claps, and a span -of big earthquakes, and forty or fifty sewin’ societies (run by wimmen), -and all the threshin’ machines you can think of, and fifty or sixty big -droves of lions and hyena’s a roarin’, and the same number of strong, -healthy infants, under the influence of colic, and several hundred -political meetin’s and deestrick schools jest let out, and several -Niagara Falls; take the noise of all these put together and they don’t -give you any jest idee of the noise and distraction. - -Why, there was such a awful buzz and clatter of machinery; big wheels a -turnin’ little wheels, and little wheels a turnin’ big ones, and all a -buzzin’; such a glitterin’ of glass and gildin’ and colors of all kinds, -and a swarmin’ of folks and chatterin’ of voices, and rustlin’ of -dresses, and thumpin’ of canes, stampin’ of shoes and runnin’ of -childern, and flutterin’ of ribbins, and wavin’ of hands, and bowin’ of -heads; that though beauty and instruction was on every side of me and I -knew it, yet I couldn’t take a realizin’ sense of it. I had to keep -askin’ myself every few moments:—“Josiah Allen’s wife, is it you? tell -me frankly, whether it is or not; or is it some of the relation on your -mother’s side? or be you Josiah? or who be you?” - -Jest as I was a thinkin’ this, who should I meet face to face but Cousin -Bean, and says she: “Have you seen the mummy from Egypt, three thousand -years old?” - -“Mummy who?” says I. - -Says she,—“It is a Egyptian woman, a princess; she is dead,” says she. - -Says I,—“I thought so, from her age.” - -“She is embalmed,” says Cousin Bean. - -“What kind of balm?” says I, coolly. - -She said she nor nobody else knew exactly what kind of balm it was; she -said it had got lost thousands of years ago; covered up with the dust of -centuries. - -I asked her if she knew whether she was any relation of Sphynx; comin’ -from the same neighborhood, I didn’t know but she might be. - -She said she believed she was. - -“Well,” says I, “I’ll go and see her then, for old Sphynx is a woman I -have always respected;” says I in a noble tone, “_there_ is a woman who -has minded her own business, and kep’ her own secrets for thousands of -years. Some say that a woman can’t keep anything to herself for any -length of time, and if she has got a secret, has got to git some other -woman to help her keep it. But there _she_ has stood and seen the old -things become new, and the new, old; the sun of knowledge go down, and -the night of barbarism sweep its black shadders over her, and the sun -rise up on her again, each one takin’ thousands of years, and she a -mindin’ her own business, and keepin’ her affairs to herself through it -all; foolin’ the hull world, and not smilin’ at it; nations runnin’ -crazy with new idees, and risin’ up and crashin’ down on each other -every few hundred years, and she lookin’ on with the calmness and -patience of eternity wrote down on her forward. It does me good to see -one of my own sect stand so firm.” - -So we sot off to see it; Josiah sayin’ he would meet us at noon, down by -the Japan House. - -My first thought on seein’ it was, “I don’t believe you was hung for -your beauty, or would be, if you had lived another three thousand -years,” but then my very next thought was, “folks may look sort o’ -contemptuous at you, and, in the pride and glory of their butterfly -existence, pass you by in a hauty way; but if your still lips could open -once, they would shake the hull world with your knowledge of the -mysterious past and the still more mysterious future, whose secrets you -understand.” And then (unbeknown to me) I reveried a little: thinks’es -I, what scenes did them eyes look upon the last time they was opened in -this world? What was the last words she heerd,—the last face that bent -over her? And what strange and beautiful landscape is it that is spread -out before her now? What faces does she see? What voices does she hear? -I had quite a number of emotions while I stood there a reverin’—probable -as many as twenty or thirty. - -But about this time Cousin Bean says she: “Did you see Queen Victoria’s -pictures, that she has lent?” - -I turned right round and faced her, and says I, in agitated tones,—“You -don’t tell me, Miss Bean, that the Widder Albert has got some pictures -of her own, here, that she has lent to the Sentinal?” - -“Yes,” says she, “she has got three or four, in the English Department -of the Art Gallery.” - -I turned right round and started for the Artemus Gallery, for I see I -had missed ’em the day before, and after I had got into the English -Department, a good woman pinted ’em all out to me, at my request. - -The first one I looked at, thinks’es I,—how curious that the Widder -Albert should send a paintin’ here, picturin’ all out what I had thought -about ever sense I had thought at all. Thinks’es I, I most know she has -heerd how I always felt about it, and sent it over a purpose to -accommodate me. It was the “Death of Wolfe.” Oh! how often I had heerd -Josiah sing (or what he called singin’) about it; how - - “Brave Wolfe drew up his men - In a line so pretty, - On the field of Abraham, - Before the city.” - -That was when we was first married, and he wantin’ to treat me -first-rate would set and sing to me evenins, (or what he called singin’) -till he was hoarse as a owl, about “Lovely Sophronia Sleeps in Death,” -and “Lady Washington’s Lament,” and “Brave Wolfe.” And I, bein’ jest -married, and naturally feelin’ kind o’ sentimental and curious, would -set and cry onto my handkerchief till it was wet as sop. - -Then there was the Widder Albert, herself, dressed up slicker than I -ever was, or ever shall be; but I was glad to see it. There haint a -envious hair in my head; if there was, I would pull it out by the roots, -if I had to take the pinchers to it. It wouldn’t have hurt my feelins if -she had been dressed in pure gold, from head to foot. Store clothes -can’t be made too good for that woman. - -[Sidenote: THE MARQUIS OF LORNE] - -But what was about as interestin’ to me, as any of ’em, was the weddin’ -of the Widder Albert’s oldest boy, Albert Wales. It was a noble, large -picture. There they stood before the minister, as natteral as life; and -lots of the most elegant dressed folks of both sects, and officers -dressed in uniform, a standin’ all round ’em; and the Widder’s benign -face a lookin’ down on ’em like a benediction. - -I see there was a man a standin’ by this picture, keepin’ his eye on it -all the time, and a woman in front of me said to another one: - -“He stands there a watchin’ the Queen’s pictures all the time, don’t -he?” - -“Yes,” says the other one, “so afraid they will git injured in some -way.” - -Before I could say a word to ’em, they sailed off out of the room. But -it all come to me in a minute, who he was. It was the Widder Albert’s -son-in-law, Loeezy’s husband. I remembered readin’ that he was expected -to the Sentinal; and here he was, a watchin’ his mother-in-law’s -pictures. Thinks’es I, how awful clever that is in him; some men despise -their mother-in-laws. And I declare, my admirin’ feelins towards him, -for treatin’ his wife’s ma so well, and the feelins I felt for that -woman, so rousted me up, that I walked right up to him and held out my -right hand, and says I, in tones tremblin’ with emotion: - -“How do you do, Mr. Lorne? Little did I think I should have this honor -and deep pleasure; little did I think I should see one of the Widder -Albert’s own family here to-day.” - -He kinder glared at me, in a strange and almost shocked way, and says I, -in polite axents: - -“You don’t know me, of course,” and then I made a handsome curchy as I -says, “but I am Josiah Allen’s wife. Do tell me, how is your -mother-in-law; how is the Widder Albert?” And then I wiped my heated -forward, and says I,—“I am a very warm friend of hern. It takes more -than the same blood to make folks related. Congenial spirits and kindred -souls, are the truest relationship, and she is dretful near to me. Is -the warm weather kinder wearin’ on her? It uses _me_ right up.” I have -sweat more prespiration to-day, than any day sense I was on my tower. I -have told my husband, Josiah, that if it kep’ on, I didn’t know but he -would have to carry me home in a pail, (or pails.) - -He spoke out and says he,—“Madam, you are mistaken, I—” - -He looked awful sort o’ surprised, and even angry. It probable surprised -him to see such polite manners in a Yankey. I was a actin’ well and -friendly, and I knew it, and I kep’ right on a appearin’. Says I: - -“Josiah and I have worried about her, a sight. We read last spring, in -the _World_, that she was enjoyin’ real poor health, and we was afraid -that this weather would go hard with her; for there haint another woman -on the face of the earth, that I honor and admire, more than I do the -Widder Albert. She is jest about right, I think; handsome enough, and -not too handsome, so’s to be vain, and envied by other wimmen; smart -enough, and not too smart, so’s to be conceited and top-heavy; and sound -principles, sound as anything can be sound. Her heart is in the right -place, exactly, bounded on one side by sympathy and tenderness, and on -the other by reason and common sense. Why shouldn’t her husband have -been a happy man, settin’ in the centre of such a heart? Why shouldn’t -she have brought her childern up well? She is a woman that has had her -Rights, and has honored them and herself. And let any opposer and -scoffer of Woman’s Rights, take a telescope and look at the Widder -Albert, and then look at her 4 fathers; let ’em see whether England has -prospered best under her rain, or under their rain; let ’em see who has -been the most God-fearin’ and well-behaved; let ’em turn that telescope -onto her public actions, and then onto theirn; and then let ’em look -close and searchin’ onto the private life of them 4 old fathers, and -then onto hern, and see which looks the purest and prettiest. - -“And after they have done, let ’em lay that telescope down, and say that -wimmen don’t know enough, and haint sound-minded enough to vote; jest -let ’em say it if they dare! And wimmen, too; why! her example ort to -stand up in life, before some vain, frivolous wimmen I could -mention—wimmen that don’t believe in havin’ a right—jest as plain as if -it was worked on a canvas sampler, with a cross stitch, and hung up in -their kitchens. A young woman, crowned with all the glory and honor the -world could give, devotin’ her life first to God, and then to the good -of her people; carryin’ her Right jest as stiddy and level as a Right -ever was carried; faithful to all her duties, public and private; her -brightest crown, the crown of true motherhood; no more truly the mother -of princes, than mother of England. Why, the farm she had left to her by -her uncle George, is so big that the sun don’t never go down on it; -larger in dimensions than we can hardly think on with our naked minds; -and all over that enormous farm of hern, the flowers turn no more -constant to that sun, and that sun is no more consolin’ and inspirin’ to -them flowers, than is the thought of this kind, gracious lady to them -that work her farm on shares. Why! her memory, the memory of a woman—who -had a Right—will go down to future ages as one to be revered, and almost -worshiped.” - -But if you’ll believe it, after all my outlay of politeness, and good -manners, that feller acted mad. What under the sun ailed him I don’t -know to this day, unless it was he couldn’t git over it—my praising up -his mother-in-law so. Some men are at such sword’s pints with their -mother-in-laws that they can’t bear a word in their favor. But I wasn’t -goin’ to encourage no such feelins in him, and I was determined to be -polite myself, to the last, so I says in conclusion: “Good-bye, Mr. -Lorne, give my best respects to your mother-in-law.” - -He give me a look witherin’ enough to wither me, if I had been easy -withered, which I wasn’t. And that was the last words I said to him. -Jest that minute Josiah come in, and I told him that I hadn’t no idee -the Marquis of Lorne was such a feller. - -Says Josiah, “I don’t believe it was Mark, it was some tyke or other; -mebby it was the Widder’s hired man.” - -I wouldn’t contend with him, but I knew what I did know. I went to -lookin’ at some of the other pictures. There was faces that was glad and -happy, and some that had desolation wrote out on ’em. There was one -picture, “War Times” that made me feel very sad feelins; an old man -leanin’ on a rough stun fence, lookin’ over the lonely winter fields, -and thinkin’ of his boys away on the field of death—the boys that made -the old farm jubilant with their happy voices and gay young faces. You -can see it all in the old man’s face—the memory, the dread, and the -heartache. And then there was another one “La Rota,” by name that worked -on my feelins dretfully. A mother standin’ before a foundlin’ hospital, -jest about puttin’ her baby into the little turnin’ box in the winder -that would turn him forever from his mother’s arms into the arms of -charity, which are colder. After that one kiss on the baby face, she -would never see him, never know of his fate; he would be as lost to her -as if she had lost him in the crowd of heavenly childern; though in that -case she would know where he was: safe forever from sin and misery, and -here—how could she tell what would be the baby’s fate. Oh, how bad La -Rota was a feelin’; how I did pity her. - -And then there was “The Prodigal,” a comin’ back in rags, and misery, -and remorse, to the home he left in his pride and strength; and to see -that old father a waitin’ to welcome him, and the feeble old mother -bein’ helped out by her sons and daughters—a forgivin’ of him. Oh, what -a idee that did give of the long sufferin’ and patience of love. - -Finally, my eyes fell onto a picture that affected me more than any I -had seen as yet. The name on’t was: “The Lord gave, the Lord hath taken -away, Blessed be the name of the Lord.” They had gathered round the -table for the first time since death had been there, and the minister -was askin’ a blessin’. A woman sat at the head of the table with her -hands clasped close, as if to crush back her agony; her face white and -thin from watchin’ and sorrow—jest as a certain person’s would be if it -was Josiah,—her eyes bent down, jest as if she _could not_ look at that -vacant chair. On one side of her with his face bent down in grief, was a -young feller about the age of Thomas Jefferson; on the other side, a -girl about the age of Tirzah Ann, was kneelin’ right down by the table a -sobbin’ as if her heart would break. And as I looked at it the thought -would come up, though I ordered it back, “What! what if it was Josiah?” -And this thought rousted up such feelins that I couldn’t control ’em, -and I turned round instinctively and locked arms with him, and we went -into another room. - -Presently, or about that time we found ourselves in the French -Department. I laid out to pay a good deal of attention to France, -whether they showed off in the Main Buildin’ or Art Gallery, or -anywhere; because, wherever I stood before their doins,—above all the -beauty and grandeur of their display, I see with my mind’s eye, that -gallant form that left glory and happiness behind him to come with army -and treasure to help a strugglin’ land to freedom. I see that noble -face—not middle-aged and brass-mounted as he looks on his monument, but -young and eager eyed—a standin’ on the vessel’s keel, (or keeler) a -goin’ at Liberty’s call, into a New World, and the perils and hardships -of a camp; and wavin’ back a good bye to the gay pleasures of his youth, -to rank, and all he loved best—his sweetheart and his native land. - -I feel most skairt to say it, and don’t know as I ort to, but somehow I -feel a little different about Layfayette from what I do about our own -glorious Washington. For G. W. was a fightin’ for his own land, and -there was most likely a little mite of selfishness mixed up with his -noble emotions, (probable not more than one part in two or three -hundred) but in this noble young feller these wasn’t a mite. He give -all, and dared all, from pure love of Liberty, and sympathy for the -oppressed. And so France’s hull doins would have looked good to me -anyway for his sake. But if they had stood up on their own merits alone -they would have stood firm and solid as a hemlock post newly sot. They -done well, clear from the ceilin’ down. There was one picture, there was -a great crowd before, and amongst the rest I see the “Creation -Searchers” a standin’ in a row, a gazin up at it with a dissatisfied -though nearly wooden expression of countenance. The picture was “Rizpah -Defendin’ the bodies of Saul’s childern from the Eagles;” it affected me -terribly—I thought of Thomas Jefferson. The wild desolation of the spot, -the great beams a risin’ out of the rocks with the seven dead bodies a -hangin’ up in the air—left there to die of hunger and agony,—with the -slow death of agonizin’ horrer wrote out on their dead faces and their -stiffened forms. And beneath them standin’ with her yeller dress and -blue drapery a floatin’ back from her, is Rizpah, fightin’ back a huge -vulture that with terrible open mouth and claws is contendin’ with her -for the bodies of her sons. They were slain to avert the famine, and -there is in her face the strength of the martyr, and the energy of -despair. How that woman, so strong, so heroic by nature must have loved -her two boys! It was a horrible, scareful picture but fearfully -impressive. When I look at anything very beautiful, or very grand and -impressive, my emotions lift me clear up above speech. I s’pose the -higher we go up the less talkin’ there is done. Why if anybody could -feel sociable and talkative when they first look at that picture, I -believe they could swear, they wouldn’t be none too good for it. But -jest at that minute when I was feelin’ so awful horrified, and lifted -up, and curious, and sublime and everything, I heerd a voice sayin’ in a -pert lively tone, but very scorfin’, - -“That haint true to nater at all.” - -“No,” says Solomon Cypher in a complainin’, fault-findin’ way, “there’s -nothin’ natteral about it at all. Why!” says he strikin’ himself a -eloquent blow in the pit of his stomach—“why didn’t they hang the -scarecrows nearer to the cornfield?” - -“And I never,” says Cornelius Cork, a holdin’ his glasses on with both -hands—for his nose bein’ but small, they would fall off—“I never see a -crow that looked like that; it haint shaped right for a crow.” - -“The perspective of the picture haint the right size,” says Shakespeare -Bobbet. - -“The tone is too low down,” says Solomon Cypher; “the cheerful obscure -is too big and takes up too much room.” - -“Cheerful obscure,” says I in witherin’ tones, as I looked round at ’em. - -“Don’t you think we know what we are a talkin’ about Josiah Allen’s -wife?” says Solomon Cypher. - -“I wont say that you don’t,” says I “for it wouldn’t be good manners.” I -wouldn’t stay another minute where they was, and I hurried Josiah out -tellin’ him Miss Bean would be a waitin’ for us at the Japan house. I -told Josiah on our way that them “Creation Searchers” fairly sickened -me, a runnin’ things down, and pretendin’ not to admire ’em, and lookin’ -wooden, and findin’ fault. - -[Sidenote: THE SPIRITUALIST] - -“Well,” says Josiah, “they say they have got a reputation for wisdom to -keep up, and they will do it.” - -“They are keepin’ up the reputation of natteral fools,” says I warmly. - -“Well,” says Josiah with that same triumphant look to his mean he always -wore when we talked on this subject, “if there haint anything in it -Samantha, why does so many do it?” - -He had got the better of me for once, and he knew it. I knew well there -was hundreds of folks that got up on big reputation in jest that way, so -I wouldn’t multiply another word with him, for I couldn’t. - -[Sidenote: THE WIMMEN’S PAVILION] - -Josiah said he wanted to look at a mowin’ machine, and as I hadn’t been -to the Woman’s Pavilion only to take a cursory view of it, I thought now -was my time, and so I went through it with a proud and happy heart. Yes, -I can truly say without lyin’ that my emotions as I went through that -buildin’ was larger in size and heftier in weight than any emotions I -had enjoyed sense I had been to the Sentinal. Feelin’ such feelins for -my sect as I felt, holdin’ their honor and prosperity, and success -nearer to my heart, than to any earthly object, (exceptin’ Josiah) I -suppose if anybody could have looked inside of my mind as I wandered -through them rooms, they would have seen a sight they never would have -forgot the longest day they ever lived; I s’pose it would have skairt -’em most to death if they wasn’t used to seein’ emotions performin’. Oh! -such proud and lofty feelins as I did enjoy a seein’ the work of my sect -from all over the length and breadth of the world. The wonderful, useful -inventions of the sect, showin’ the power and solid heft of her brains; -the beautiful works of art showin’ her creative artist soul, and provin’ -plain the healthy and vigorous state of her imagination. The wonderful -wood carvin’, and dainty fancy needle work, and embroideries of all -kinds you can imagine, showin’ the stiddy, patient, persistent powers of -her hands and fingers; and what was fur more interestin’ to me of all, -was the silent exhibit at the south entrance, showin’ what sort of a -heart she has within her, a record of eight hundred and twenty-two large -noble sized charities, organized and carried on by the sect which a -certain person once Smith, is proud to say she belongs to. - -Oh! I can truly say that I felt perfectly beautiful, a goin’ through -them noble halls, a seein’ everything and more too, (as it were) from -doll’s shoes, and pictures of poseys, and squirrels, and five little -pigs, up to the Vision of St. Christopher, and a big statute of Eve -standin’ with her arm over her face, hidin’ the shame in it. There was -Injun basket work, perfectly beautiful, and settin’ by the side of it -weavin’ her baskets sot as dignified and good appearin’ a woman, (though -dark complexioned) as any nation of the world sent to the Sentinal. I -bought a little basket of her right there on the spot, for I liked her -looks, and she handed me out her card: - -Margaret Kesiah, Obkine Injun of Canada. - -And there was napkins, the linen of which was wove by my friend, the -Widder Albert; and as I looked at ’em, I thought gently to myself: how -many wimmen who haint got a Right, and don’t want one, could spin linen -equal to this? And then amongst every other way to honor and glorify my -sect that could be thought of, there was a female woman all carved out -of butter. I had thought in my proud spirited hautiness of soul that I -could make as handsome butter balls, and flower ’em off as nobby as any -other woman of the age. But as I looked at that beautiful roll of butter -all flattened out into such a lovely face, I said to myself in firm -axents, though mild: “Samantha, you have boasted your last boast over -butter balls.” - -There was some bright happy pictures, and some that wasn’t. One was of a -sick child and its mother out in the desert alone with the empty water -jug standin’ by ’em. The mother holdin’ the feeble little hands, and -weepin’ over him. Her heart was a desert, and she was in a desert, which -made it hard for her, and hard for me too, and I was jest puttin’ my -hand into my pocket after my white cotton handkerchief, when somebody -kinder hunched me in the side, and lookin’ round, there was that very -female lecturer I see at New York village. Says she: “Come out where it -is more quiet, Josiah Allen’s wife; I want to have a little talk with -you.” - -[Sidenote: THE FEMALE LECTURER] - -She looked perfectly full of talk, but says I: “I haint only jest -commenced lookin’ round at the splendid doins in this buildin’;” says I, -“I don’t want to stir out of this house for 13 or 14 hours.” - -Says she, “You can come again, but I _must_ have a talk with you.” - -Says I, “Feelin’ as I do, wont you excuse me mom?” - -But she wouldn’t excuse me, and seein’ she was fairly sufferin’ to talk, -I led the way to a rendezvoo where I promised Josiah to be, not knowin’ -how long she would talk when she got at it, for—though I am very close -mouthed myself—I know well the failins of my sect in that respect. The -very moment we sot down on the pleasant and secluded bench I took her -to, she begun: - -“What do you think of men meetin’ here to celebrate National -Independance and the right of self-government, when they hold half of -their own race in political bondage?” - -Says I, firmly, “I think it is a mean trick in ’em.” - -Says she, bitterly: “Can’t you say sunthin’ more than that?” - -“Yes,” says I, “I can, and will; it is mean as pusly, and meaner.” - -Says she, “What do you think of their meetin’ here and glorifyin’ the -sentiment up to the heavens in words, ‘true government consists in the -consent of the governed’ and tramplin’ it practically down to the dust -under their feet? What do you think of this great ado over grantin’ the -makin’ of our laws to the Irishman jest out of prison, whom they dislike -and despise—and denyin’ these rights to intelligent, native-born -citizens, whom they love and respect? What do you think of their taxin’ -the Christian and earnest souled woman, worth half a million, and leave -it to men, not worth the shoes they wear to the pole, the ignorant, and -the vicious, to vote how that money shall be used; she, by the work of -her hands or brains, earnin’ property to be used in this way, in makin’ -and enforcin’ laws she despises and believes to be ruinous, and unjust -in the sight of God and man. What do you think of this?” says she. - -Says I, with a calm but firm dignity: “I think pusly is no meaner.” - -“Oh!” says she, turnin’ her nose in the direction of the Main Buildin’ -and shakin’ her brown lisle thread fist at it, “how I despise men! Oh, -how sick I be of ’em!” And she went on for a long length of time, a -callin’ ’em every name I ever heerd men called by, and lots I never -heerd on, from brutal whelps, and roarin’ tyrants, down to lyin’ -sneakin’ snipes; and for every new and awful name she’d give ’em, I’d -think to myself: why, my Josiah is a man, and Father Smith was a man, -and lots of other relatives, and 4 fathers on my father’s side. And so -says I: - -“Sister, what is the use of your runnin’ men so?” says I, mildly, “it is -only a tirin’ yourself; you never will catch ’em, and put the halter of -truth onto ’em, while you are a runnin’ ’em so fearfully; it makes ’em -skittish and baulky.” Says I, “Men are handy in a number of ways, and -for all you seem to despise ’em so, you would be glad to holler to some -man if your horse should run away, or your house git a fire, or the ship -go to sinkin’, or anything.” - -Says she, “Men are the most despiseable creeters that ever trod shoe -leather.” - -“Well,” says I, calmly, “take wimmen as a race, mom, and they don’t -cherish such a deadly aversion to the other sect as you seem to make out -they do; quite the reverse and opposite. Why, I have seen wimmen act so, -a follerin’ of ’em up, pursuin’ of ’em, clingin’ to ’em, smilin’ almost -vacantly at ’em; I have seen ’em act and behave till it was more -sickenin’ than thoroughwort to my moral stomach.” Says I, “I cherish no -such blind and almost foolish affection for ’em as a sect, (one, I -almost worship) but I have a firm, reasonable, meetin’-house esteem for -’em, as a race. A calm, firm regard, unmoved and stiddy as a settin’ -hen; I see their faults, plainly, very—as my Josiah will testify and -make oath to; and I also see their goodnesses, their strength, their -nobilities, and their generosities—which last named are as much more -generous than ourn, as their strength is stronger.” - -Says I, “Pause a moment, mom, in your almost wild career of runnin’ men -down, to think what they have done; look round the world with your -mind’s eye, and see their work on land and sea. See the nations they -have founded; see the cities stand where there used to be a wilderness: -see the deserts they have made to blossom like a rosy; see the victories -they have got over time and space,—talkin’ from one end of the world to -the other in a minute, and travellin’ almost as quick, through mountains -and under the water, and every thing. See how old ocian herself—who used -to roar defiance at ’em—was made by ’em to bile herself up into steam to -git the victory over herself. And in spite of the thunder that tried to -scare ’em out, see how they have drawrd the lightnin’ out of the heavens -to be their servant. Look there,” says I, pintin’ my forefinger -eloquently towards the main Halls: Machinery, Agricultural—and so -4th—“see the works of that sect you are runnin’ so fearfully; see their -time-conquerin’, labor-savin’ inventions, see—” - -“I won’t see,” says she, firmly, and bitterly. “I won’t go near any of -their old machines; I’ll stand by my sect, I’ll stick to the Woman’s -Pavilion. I haint been nigh Machinery Hall, nor the Main Buildin’, nor -the Art Gallery, nor I won’t neither.” - -“I have,” says I, in triumphant, joyful tones, “I have been lost in ’em -repeatedly, and expect to be again. I have been destracted and melted -down in ’em, and have been made almost perfectly happy, for the time -bein’, to see the wonderful fruits of men’s intellects; the labor of -strong heads and hearts; to see the works of men’s genius, and -enterprise, and darin’; the useful, the beautiful and grand, the heroic -and sublime. Why I have been so lifted up that I didn’t know but I -should go right up through the ruff, (over 200 pounds in all). I have -been elevated and inspired as I don’t expect to be elevated and lifted -up again for the next 100 years. And lookin’ round on what I see, and -thinkin’ what I thought, it made me so proud and happy, that it was a -sweet thought to me that my Josiah was a man.” - -“Oh shaw!” says she, “you had better be a lookin’ at the Woman’s -Pavilion, than lookin’ on what them snipes have done.” - -Says I, “Do you take me for a natteral fool mom? Do you s’pose I am such -a fool or such a luny, that every time I have looked at the Woman’s -Pavilion, and gloried over the works of her hands and brains, I haint -felt jest so—only more so?” Says I, “That buildin’ stands there to-day -as a solid and hefty proof that wimmen are sunthin’ more than the -delicate, and helpless zephyrs and seraphines, that they have been -falsely pointed out to be.” Says I, “It is a great scientific fact, that -if men go to canterin’ blindly down that old pathway of wimmen’s -weakness and unfitness for labor and endurance and inability to meet -financikal troubles and discouragements again, they must come bunt up -ag’inst that buildin’ and recognize it as a solid fact, and pause before -it respectfully, ponderin’ what it means, or else fall. They can’t step -over it, their legs haint long enough.” - -And says I, “It is earnest thought and work that has filled it, and that -is what wimmen want to do—to do more, and say less. No stream can rise -higher than its fountain; a universe full of laws to elevate wimmen -can’t help her, unless she helps herself. Sufferagin’ will do a good -deal, but it haint a goin’ to fill up a empty soul, or a vacant -frivolous mind. There are thoughts that have got to turn right square -round and travel another road; there is tattin’ and bobinet lace to be -soared over; there is shoulder blades that has got to be put to the -wheel. Every flag on the buildin’ seems to float out like good deeds and -noble eloquent thoughts, while the gabriel ends stand firm under ’em, -like the firm, solid motives and principles that great and good deeds -have got to wave out from, in order to amount to anything.” - -“But,” says she, “the mean snipes won’t let us vote.” - -Says I calmly, “That’s so; they haint willin’ all on ’em, to give us the -right of sufferagin’ jest at present, and as I have said, and say now, -it is mean as pusly in ’em. But it don’t look so poor in them as it does -in the wimmen that oppose it, a fightin’ ag’inst their own best -interests. It seems to me that any conscientious, intelligent woman, who -took any thought for herself and her sect, would want a Right to—” - -Here she hollered right out interruptin’ me; says she: “Less vote! less -take a hammer and go at the men, and make them let us vote this minute.” - -Says I, “I’d love to convince men of the truth, but it haint no use to -take a hammer and try to knock unwelcome truths into anybody’s head, -male or female. The idee may be good, and the hammer may be a moral, -well meanin’ hammer; but you see the dander rises up in the head that is -bein’ hit, and makes a impenetrable wall, through which the idee can’t -go; that is a great philosophical fact, that can’t be sailed round, or -climbed over. And it is another deep scientific principle, that you -can’t git two persons to think any more of each other or think any -nearer alike by knockin’ their heads together. Nobody can git any water -by breakin’ up a chunk of ice with a axe; not a drop; you have got to -thaw it out gradual; jest like men’s and wimmen’s prejudices in the -cause of Wimmen’s Rights. Public sentiment is the warm fire that is a -goin’ to melt this cold hard ice of injustice that we are contendin’ -ag’inst; laws haint good for much if public opinion don’t stand behind -’em pushin’ ’em onward to victory.” - -“I wont wait a minute,” says she, “I will vote.” - -But I argued with her; says I: “Sister, you are well meanin’, no doubt, -but you ort to remember that the battle haint always to the swift.” Says -I, “It wont harm none of us to foller Nater’s ways a little more close; -and Nater is a female that—if she is ruther slow motioned—generally has -her way in the end to an uncommon degree. You don’t catch her gittin’ -mad, wild, impatient, tearin’ open a kernel of corn, or grain of wheat, -or anything, and growin’ a stalk out of it sudden and at once. No! jest -like all patient toilers for the Right, she plants the seed, and then -lets it take time to swell out, and git full to bustin’ with its own -convictions and desires to grow, till it gits so sick of the dark ground -where it is hid, and longs so for the light and the free air above it, -that it can’t be kep’ back a minute longer, but soars right up of its -own free will and accord, towards the high heavens and the blessed -sunlight. But if seeds haint good for nothin’, they wont come up; all -the sunshine and rain on earth can’t make ’em grow, nor cultivators, nor -horse rakes, nor nothin’. - -“And so with principles. Lots of folks spend most of their days a -plantin’ seeds that wont come up. What is worthless wont amount to -nothin’—in accordance with that great mathematical fact, that scientific -folks like me apply to lots of things, and find that it comes right -every time—that ort from ort leaves nothin’, and nothin’ to carry. But -if the idee is true and has got life in it, no matter how dark the mould -that covers it, it is morally bound to sprout—positively bound to, and -can’t be hindered. Don’t you know, when a big forest has been cut down, -berry bushes will spring right up, seem to have stood all ready to -spring up for the refreshin’ of men and wimmen jest as quick as the -shadders of the tall trees had got offen ’em; curious, but so it is. Who -knows how many centuries them seeds have laid there a waitin’ their time -to grow, gittin’ sick of the shadders mebby, but jest a waitin’ with -considerable patience after all. - -“And thinkin’ of these things mom, ort to make us considerable patient -too, willin’ to work, and willin’ to wait; knowin’ that gittin’ mad and -actin’ haint a goin’ to help us a mite; knowin’ that the seeds of good -and right, planted with tears and prayers, are bound to spring up -triumphant; knowin’ that the laughin’ and cold sneers of the multitude -haint a goin’ to frost bite ’em; knowin’ that the tears of weakness, and -weariness, and loneliness, fallin’ from human eyes over the hoe handle -in plantin’ time, only moistens the sod, and kinder loosens it up -first-rate. And that even the ashes of persecution, and all the blood -that falls in righteous cause, only nourishes the snowy flowers and -golden grain of the future. Mebby it is our mission to clear away trees -and stumps—sort o’ wood choppers, or sawyers—I don’t care a mite what I -am called. We may never see the seed spring up; we may not be here when -it breaks through the dark mould triumphant; but somebody will see it; -happy skies will bend over it; happy hearts will hail it; and if -Freedom, Truth, and Justice is remembered, what matters it if Josiah -Allen’s wife is forgotten.” - -Says she, “I _will_ hammer ’em.” - -I declare for’t I had forgot where I was, and who I was, and who she -was, and who Josiah was—I was carried away such a distance by my -emotions. But her remark soared up like a brass pin or a tack nail, and -pierced my wrapped mood. I see I hadn’t convinced her, her eyes looked -wild and glarin’. - -“Well,” says I, “if you do you will probable have the worst of it, -besides injurin’ the hammer.” - -Jest at that very minute I see Josiah a comin’, and I watched that -beloved and approachin’ form for mebby half or two thirds of a minute, -and when I looked round again she was gone, and I was glad on’t; I never -liked her looks. And in a few minutes Miss Bean come too, and says she: -“Don’t you want to go and see some relicks?” - -Says I, “I haint particular either way. Bein’ a respectable married -woman with a livin’ pardner of my own, I shant make no move either way, -I shant run towards ’em or from ’em. Havin’ lived a vegetable widow for -so many years, I s’pose _you_ feel different about relicks.” - -Says she, “I mean relicks from Jerusalem and other old places, made out -of wood from Mount Olive, and the cross, and the Holy Sepulchre, and so -4th.” And then she kinder whispered to me: “They do say that they have -used up more than ten cords of stove-wood right here in the village of -Filadelphy, a makin’ relicks for Turks to sell—Turks right from -Ireland.” Says she, “You are so awful patriotic you ort to see George -Washington’s clothes, and old Independence Hall, and Liberty bell.” - -[Sidenote: AMONG THE RELICS] - -Says I in agitated axents: “Cousin Bean has George Washington got any -clothes here to the Sentinal?” - -“Yes,” says she, “they are in the United States Government Buildin’.” - -I gripped holt of her hand, and says I, “Lead me there instantly!” and -she led the way to the buildin’. - -But though I see everything on my way and more too seeminly, I didn’t -seem to sense anything as it should be sensed, till I stood before them -relicks; and then, oh! what feelins I did feel as I see that coat and -vest that George had buttoned up so many times over true patriotism, -truthfulness, and honor. When I see the bed he had slept on, the little -round table he had eat on, the wooden bottomed chair he had sot down on, -the belluses he had blowed the fire with in cold storms and -discouragements; and then to see the bed quilts worked by his own -mother, and to think what powerful emotions, what burnin’ plans, what -eager hopes, and what dark despairs they had covered up in 76. And then -to see—a layin’ on the bed—the cane that Benjamin give to George, and to -see George’s glasses and candle stick, and trunks and etcetery. Why, -they all rousted up my mind so, that I told Josiah I must see -Independance Hall before I slept, or I wouldn’t answer for the -consequences. I was fearfully rousted up in my mind, as much so as if my -emotions had been all stirred up with that little hatchet that G. W. -couldn’t tell a lie with. - -Leavin’ Miss Bean, we started off for Independance Hall. What feelins I -felt, as I stood in the room where our 4 fathers signed the papers -givin’ their childern liberty; where them old fathers signed the deed -without flinchin’ a hair, though they well knew that it had got to be -sealed red with their blood. To stand on that very floor—kinder -checkered off—that they had stood on, to see them very chairs that they -had sot in, and then to see their brave, heroic faces a lookin’ down on -me—I felt strange, curious. And there was that old bell that had rung -out the old slavery and oppression, and rung in the new times of freedom -and liberty. My emotions tuckered me out so that when I got to sleep -that night, I was dreamin’ that I was upon the top of that bell a -swingin’ over the land, soarin’ right back and forth; a swingin’ back -into them times that tried men’s and wimmen’s souls, and then forth -again into the glorious nineteenth century. I had a awful time of it, -and so did Josiah, and I wouldn’t go through it again for a dollar bill, -and Josiah says he wouldn’t. - -[Illustration] - - - - - ANOTHER DAY ON THE GROUNDS. - - -The next mornin’ we got onto the grounds early and took a short tower -through the Main Buildin’ when Josiah says to me all of a sudden: - -“Less go and be elevated Samantha!” - -Says I, “What do you mean, Josiah Allen?” I was skairt; I thought he was -goin’ the way of lunys. - -“Why,” says he “I mean less go and be elevated up in the elevator.” - -“Oh!” says I, “I thought you wanted me to go and git intoxicated with -you.” - -I didn’t blame Josiah, for I knew it was a principle implanted in his -sect to see all they could see, but still I hung back; I didn’t feel -like it; somehow I didn’t feel like bein’ elevated; and knowin’ what -would be the strongest argument to bear onto him, I mentioned the -expense, but he argued back again: - -“Ten cents won’t make or break us. Do less be elevated Samantha; come -on, less.” - -So seein’ he was determined on’t, we went back again into the Main -Buildin’ and was elevated. And what a sight that was that was spread out -below us. Never shall I forget it while memory sets up in her high -chair. As I looked on it all, I couldn’t think of but jest one thing, -how the—the—D—D—David took the Master up on a high mountain, and showed -him all the kingdoms and glory of the world, and—Josiah hunched me jest -then and says he: “Haint you glad I took you up here, Samantha?” - -And then I told him what I was thinkin’ of, and he didn’t seem to like -it; he wanted to know in a cross, surly tone “if I was a hingin’ on -him;” I told him I wasn’t. - -And then we traipsed around to see several other things, until I was -tired completely out. I thought seein’ so much would sort o’ quiet -Josiah down, but it only made him more rampant to see more; he wanted to -see some wild beasts; he said he wanted to go to the bear pits. - -Says I, “_I_ don’t want to see any wild beasts.” - -“Well,” says he, “you set down here and rest, and I will come back in -half an hour or three quarters.” - -So he left me, and soon after, I thought I would saunter around the -grounds all alone by myself, and while doin’ so, I arrove at the same -fountain I and Josiah had looked upon several days previous; where the -beautiful girls was upholdin’ the platter on which the water was a -fallin’; and as my eyes fell upon it, they also fell upon the form of my -Josiah, a gazin’ upon the female figgers in wrapped attention. - -[Illustration: ADMIRIN’ THE BEAUTIFUL WATER.] - -[Sidenote: AMONG THE WILD BEASTS] - -But as I have remarked once before (I believe,) I haint a jealous hair -in my head, but I can’t deny that I was dumbfoundered now. I took him -firmly by the arm; says I: - -“What are you a lookin’ at, Josiah Allen?” - -He was awful surprised; but it’s wonderful how the male sect will turn -off anything. Says he: “I was a admirin’ the water, Samantha, how -beautiful it biles up and then falls down into the platter.” And he -turned round to the fountain. - -Says I, “Josiah Allen, are these the wild beasts, is this the bear pit -you wanted to see?” And I added in dry tones: “You had better hereafter -remain near your pardner.” And I led him away. We sauntered along for -some time, but Josiah was dretful uneasy. I never see him so restless; -and anon, says he: “I feel to-day, somehow, Samantha, jest like -meanderin.” - -I see it was no use to restrain him, and says I: - -“Well, _you_ can keep right on a meanderin’, but _I_ can’t meander -another step.” Says I—wipin’ my heated forward on my white cotton -handkerchief—“I have meandered too much now for my own good, and I must -go to some quiet spot, where I can rest both my limbs and the eyes of my -spectacles, for they are both fearfully weary. I must have a little -quiet, Josiah Allen.” - -Says he, “How will you git holt of any quiet here, Samantha?” - -Says I, “I have heerd it is to be obtained down in the raven between -this Hall and the Artemus Gallery;” so he said he would meet me there in -a couple of hours, and started off. The raven (probable so called from -ravens bein’ found there in the past) is perfectly delightful. A brook -goes laughin’ through it; there is beautiful shady walks and bridges, -easy benches are to be found under the great noble forest trees, and -there is green grass, and ferns, and daisies, and a spring with a -tin-dipper. It is a lovely place, and I sot down feelin’ first-rate. -Nobody’s arms, not even the most trained nurses, can rest a tired baby -so well as its mother’s; nobody can rest the weary, and fatigued out -like Nater. I hadn’t been there more’n 2 minutes before I begun to feel -rested off, and as it is my way to do, I begun to think deeply and -allegore to myself. Thinks’es I, here I be in Pennsylvany; and then I -went to thinkin’ of Penn,—thought what a noble, good man he was; -thinks’es I, no wonder the Pennsylvanyans have prospered; no wonder the -Sentinal stands firm, for they all stand on ground honestly bought from -their true owners, by that noble Penn, and paid for. - -[Sidenote: THE INDIAN QUESTION] - -And then I thought a sight about Penn; how firm his scalp always stood, -how peaceful his frontiers was, and I wondered if there would be so much -Injun difficulty if the spirit of honesty, justice, and truth, that he -showed to the Injuns, could be showed to ’em now. Anyway, as I sot -there, I wished eloquently to myself, that when he ascended to the -Heavens prepared for just men, his mantilly could have fell onto the men -who make our laws, and could be wore now in Washington by them, and laid -gracefully accrost the Injun Buro. - -I was just a thinkin’ this to myself when I see a dretful pleasant -lookin’ lady come and set down on a bench only a little ways from me. -She had such a good look onto her that I says to a man who happened to -be a goin’ by where I sot, “Can you tell me who that lady is?” “Mrs. -Ulysses Grant,” says he. “Not she that was Julia Dent?” says I. “Yes,” -says he. I walked right up to her and says I—holdin’ out my hand in a -warm and affectionate manner: - -“How do you do, Julia? I am highly tickled to see you; how does the baby -do—and how does Mr. Dent’ses folks do? Are they all so as to be about?” -says I, “I am Josiah Allen’s wife.” - -“Oh!” says she, “I have heerd my husband speak of you.” And she shook -hands with me, and made room on the bench for me to set down by her. - -“Yes,” says I, “I rescued him when he called for peace and couldn’t find -it; I had the honor of savin’ him from pain and Betsey Bobbet.” I -thought I would explain it to her, though she didn’t act jealous a mite. -But it is always best to explain to wimmen jest what business you and -her pardner have been talkin’ about.’ It may save some bad feelin’ -towards _you_, and some curtain lectures for _him_. - -Says I, “I had a talk with your husband in the cause of Right, and -advised the Nation promiscously through him. But there was several other -things I wanted to say, but I see he was gittin’ hungry, and so, of -course, fractious and worrysome, and I stopped in a minute, for I well -know there is a time to advise men, and a time to refrain from it.” Says -I, “Wimmen who have had a man to deal with for any length of time, learn -to take advantage of times and seasons.” - -I see by her looks she didn’t want no tutorin’ on that subject—she haint -nobody’s fool. Says she, “What did you want to speak to my husband -about?” - -Says I, “I wanted to talk to him more about the Injuns.” - -Says she, “My husband has honestly tried to do the best he could with -’em.” - -Says I, “I believe it Julia; I believe it from nearly the bottom of my -heart.” - -Says she, “They are a low, dirty, degraded race.” - -Says I, “It haint reasonable to expect to git high-toned virtues and -principles from ignorance and superstition. Think of minds narrowed down -to one thought, by a total lack of culture and objects of interest; -think of their constant broodin’ over the centuries of wrongs they think -they have endured from the white race; and what wonder is it that this -spirit flames out occasionally in deeds that make the world shudder. And -then, people will shet their eyes to the causes that led to it, and lift -up their hands in horrer, and cry out for extermination.” - -Says Julia, “It is Destiny; it is the wave of civilization and progress -that is movin’ on from the East to the West. The great resistless wave -whose rush and might nothin’ can withstand. Rushin’ grandly onward, -sweepin’ down all obstacles in its path.” - -Says I, “Julia, that is a sublime idee of yourn, very sublime, and -dretful comfortin’ to the waves; but let me ask you in a friendly way, -haint it a little tough on the obstacles?” - -She said that it was, though she hadn’t never looked at it so much in -that light before. - -“Yes,” says I, “I know jest how it is; you have looked at the idee with -the eye of a wave. But that wont do, Julia; when we look at an idee we -must look at it from more than one side; we must look at it with several -pair of eyes in order to git the right light onto it;” says I, “I don’t -blame you for lookin’ at it with the eye of a wave—a noble, sublime eye, -full of power, and might, and glory, calm and stiddy as eternity. And -then to be fair, we ort to look at it with the eye of a obstacle, -pleadin’, and frightened, and melancholly, with a prophecy of comin’ -doom. And when we s’posen the case, it wont do for us to s’posen -ourselves waves all the hull time, we must, in order to be just, s’posen -ourselves obstacles part of the time. And s’posen you was a obstacle, -Julia, and your Ulysses was one, and s’posen I was one, and my Josiah -was another one; this wouldn’t hinder us from bein’ faint when we hadn’t -nothin’ to eat; and our legs from achin’ when we had been drove clear -from the Atlantic to the Pacific; and our hearts from greivin’ when we -was forced from our homes to let our enemies live there; and our eyes -from rainin’ floods of tears when they see our loved ones fallin’ by our -side for defendin’ our homes from what we look upon as a invader. It -wouldn’t hinder our hearts from breakin’ when we was drove off and -denied the right even to weep over the graves where our hopes was a -lyin’ buried up with our beloved obstacles.” - -Julia was almost in tears, but she reminded me that they only used the -land for low, triflin’ pursuits; such as huntin’ and other worthless -amusements; that we put it to better use. - -Says I, “Julia, I haint a denyin’ of it, I haint said, and I haint a -goin’ to say that it wasn’t necessary to plough up and smooth out their -graveyards to make race courses and base ball and crokay grounds for our -nobler race; I haint denied it; I was only remindin’ you, that it seemed -to be uncommon tough on ’em; that is all. I think on ’em a sight;” says -I, “how they used to own the hull of this continent; a friendly, -peaceable set Columbus said they was; would have done anything for him, -knelt right down and worshipped him, they was so glad to see him. It -seems sort o’ pitiful to me, to think they looked with such reverent -admirin’ eyes on the comin’ race that was to destroy ’em; knelt down and -kissed the white hands that was to strike ’em such fearful blows; -thought they come right down from heaven; and how soon they didn’t think -so—how soon they thought they come from a different place. I s’pose they -was a simple, well meanin’, childlike lot, livin’ so near to Nater, that -they got nearer to her heart than we can ever think of gittin’. And the -mountains and waters cling to their names yet; it seems as if they don’t -forget ’em; the Alleghany’s seem to be a liftin’ up their heads a -lookin’ for the Alleghanies and wonderin’ what has become of ’em. The -Deleware seems to be a rushin’ along clear to the sea, a huntin’ for the -Delewares; and Huron and Erie git fairly mad, and storm and rage a -hollerin’ for the Hurons and Eries; and old Ontario, I never see her but -what she seems to be a murmurin’ and whisperin’ sunthin’ about the -Ontarios; her blue waters have a sort of a mournful sound to me; a -nevermore sounds in the wave as it swashes up on the beach, as if it was -a cryin’ out to me, askin’ me what we have done with ’em. Her great -breast seems to be a heavin’ up and sithin’ for the fate of them whose -canoes used to float on her bosom—them light canoes that have floated -off further and further, till pretty soon the last one will float off -into that ocian whose further shore we haint never seen.” - -Says Julia, “I will speak to my husband on the subject at once.” - -Says I, “So do; and choose the time when he is cleverer than common, -jest as I would deal with my Josiah.” - -Then I told her, that I would be glad to stay right by her all the -afternoon, I felt such a friendship for her but, says I, “you know Julia -that even respect and admiration, when they come in conflict with love, -have to stand back; and my companion I know is almost famishin’ with -hunger, and I have got the key to the satchel bag containin’ our lunch;” -and says I, “you know what ravages hunger makes in a man.” She said she -knew it well and that I was perfectly excusable. And I bid her good-bye -and started on towards the place where I promised to meet my Josiah. I -found him a watchin’ the satchel bag, with a gloomy and fractious face, -but after he eat, he looked well and happy again. His plan for the -afternoon was to see all the live stock on the ground, all the iron -work, the mineral annex, the warlike preparations of the different -nations, their ships and farmin’ tools, the dairy, brewery, the model of -Paris, the newspaper offices, the lighthouses, cheese factory, wagon -shops, wind mills and the different tarverns, and he sot right out. - -[Illustration: A SHORT ROLL.] - -[Sidenote: MY SUCCESS AS P. A. AND P. I.] - -The statement of his plan—added to my meanderins and outlay of -eloquence—had wearied me nearly out, but I knew well where to go and git -rested. I knew what could take me right up—though my heft was great—and -waft me off into a land where weariness was never admitted through its -gate, where pain and tiredness and care never climbed over its fence. I -didn’t know whether to go and be lifted up to this beautiful realm by -the music in the glen, or the piano and organ concert in the Main -Buildin’; but finally I chose the latter. And seatin’ my body on a seat -I peacefully left this weary world, and for about a half or three -quarters of an hour I was a triumphant and blessed citizen of that other -world which is so near to ours that we can be transported to it in half -a moment, and so fur off that no one can ever find the path a leadin’ to -it, or tell how it is bounded, or how big it is, or who made it, or why -it was made, or anything. But that it is a land of entrancin’ beauty and -delight, _that_ we all know; and I don’t know but I should have lingered -in it all day, if a rollin’ chair containin’ a woman hadn’t rolled right -onto me as I sot on the end of the seat; and bein’ rousted up and -brought down to the world again, thinks’es I, I will take a short roll -round the buildin’ myself. So I beconed to a young feller whose chair a -lady had jest got out of, and took her place; but the move wasn’t a -happyfyin’ one to me; I got to thinkin’; thinks’es I who knows where -he’ll roll me off to—no knowin’ but what all of a sudden he’ll take a -start and run with me clear out of sight. I put in a appearance of calm, -and I thought I’d try to stand it a little longer, for I knew he’d think -strange my gittin’ out so soon. But I couldn’t seem to sense a thing I -see; I kep’ a thinkin’ of Josiah and the peril he was in mebby; I turned -round and looked at the chap, and I mistrusted he looked sort o’ wild -out of his eye; and I told him in agitated axents that if he was -willin’, I’d pay him for the hull hour I bargained for, and git out on -the spot. He seemed willin’, and I descended down out of the chair—and -was glad of the chance. - -Then I went and sot down on a bench by the noble fountain of Moses and -Temperance, and I was episodin’ to myself what a hard time Mr. Moses did -have in the wilderness, and how he made water flow out of a rock. And I -wondered dreamily if he was here now if he wouldn’t have to give a -harder knock ag’inst rocky hearts and the rocks of selfishness and -custom, before he made water flow instead of likker; when first I knew, -Josiah come and sot right down by me, and says he: “You know I told you -this mornin’ Samantha, about the ‘Creation Searchers’ all wanderin’ off -last night a searchin’ round and gittin’ lost again, and how Shakespeare -Bobbet estimated that they had travelled in the neighborhood of one -hundred and forty miles, and that he thought his father and old Dagget -would be bed rid for life; and how that Shakespeare had shipped ’em home -this mornin’ by car load—he goin’ along to lift ’em round, and keep ’em -together—all but Solomon Cypher, Cornelius Cork, and the Editor of the -Auger.” - -“Yes,” says I, “you told me of it, but what of it?” - -“Well,” says he, “the three ‘Creation Searchers’ that was left are in -jail.” - -“In jail, Josiah Allen?” - -“Yes, in jail for playin’ horse and disturbin’ the peace. Sam Snyder has -jest told me the particulars. They got to thinkin’ I s’pose, how many -scrapes they had got into sense they was here as a body; how much money -they had lost, and how much fun had been made of ’em; and they seemed to -lose every mite of dignity, and every spec of decency they had got about -’em, and they all got drunk as fools—” - -[Sidenote: THE SENTINAL PROMISCOUS] - -Says I warmly, “I _told_ the Nation jest how it would be, and I told -_you_ Josiah, but you wouldn’t believe me, neither on you, and now there -is Solomon Cypher drunk as a fool; mebby you’ll hear to me another time, -Josiah Allen.” - -Says Josiah with a gloomy look, “I don’t see what you want to lay it all -to _me_ for; their sellin’ likker here to the Sentimental wasn’t _my_ -doin’s.” - -“Well, you sort o’ upholded the Nation in it; did they catch ’em here to -the Sentinal, Josiah?” - -“No, they got their likker here, and then they went down into the -village a cuttin’ up and actin’ every step of the way; and when they -catched ’em they was playin’ horse right in front of the meetin’ house. -Cornelius and the Editor was horses and old Cypher they say had got holt -of their galluses a drivin’ ’em double; and he was a yellin’ and -cluckin’ to ’em to git up, and they was a prancin’ and a snortin’, and -the Editor of the Auger was pretendin’ to be balky, and was a kickin’ up -and a whinnerin’; the likker had made three perfect fools of ’em. And -what gauls me,” says he with a deprested look, “is, that a relation of -ourn by marriage should be in the scrape; it will make such talk; and we -mixed up in it.” - -[Sidenote: THE “CREATION SEARCHERS” IN JAIL] - -Says I calmly but firmly, “He must have a bail put onto him.” - -[Illustration: “THE SENTINAL LICENSED.”] - -“_I_ won’t put it on,” says he—and he added in a loud mad tone—“he won’t -git no bails put onto him by me, not a darned bail.” - -“Well,” says I, “if you haint no pity by you, you can probable stop -swearin’ if you set out to. They are relations on _your_ side Josiah -Allen.” - -“Throw the Widder in my face again will you!” says he, “if she was fool -enough to marry him, she may take care of him for all of me, and if she -wants any bails put onto him, she may put ’em on herself.” - -Says I lookin’ my pardner calmly in the eye. “Ort from ort leaves how -many Josiah Allen?” - -“Ort,” says he, and snapped out, “what of it? What do you go a prancin’ -off into Rithmatic for, such a time as this?” - -Says I mildly, for principle held my temper by the reins, a leadin’ me -along in the harness first-rate, “When you reckon up a row of orts and -git ’em to amount to anything, or git anything from ’em to carry, then -you can set the bride to doin’ sunthin’ and expect to have it done;” -says I, “won’t Sam Snyder succor him?” - -“No he won’t; he says he won’t and there haint a Jonesvillian that will; -you won’t catch ’em at it.” - -“Well,” says I firmly, with a mean that must have looked considerable -like a certain persons at Smithfield when he was bein’ set fire to; “if -you nor nobody else won’t go and help put a bail onto Solomon Cypher, -_I_ shall.” - -And then Josiah hollered up and asked me if I was a dumb fool, and -twitted me how hauty and overbearin’ Solomon had been to wimmen, how he -had looked down on me and acted. - -But says I calmly, “Josiah Allen, you have lived with me month after -month, and year after year, and you don’t seem to realize the size and -heft of the principles I am a carryin’ round with me, no more than if -you never see me a performin’ with ’em on a tower. Rememberance of -injuries, ridicule, nor Josiah can’t put up no bars accrost the path of -Right high enough to stop Samantha. She is determined and firm; she will -be merciful and heap coals of fire on the head of the guilty Cypher, for -the sake of duty, and that weepin’ ort.” - -And then Josiah pretended not to understand my poetic and figgerative -speech, and said that—Solomon bein’ so bald—I’d have a chance to give -him a good singein’ and he hoped I’d blister his old skull good. - -And I walked off with dignity, and wouldn’t demean myself by sayin’ -another word. He had told me where the bride was, and I started off; and -though memory (as well as Josiah) hunched me up to remember how hauty -the “Creation Searchers” had all been as a body, and how rampant they -had been that a woman shouldn’t infringe on ’em, or come in contract -with ’em, still the thought that they was moulderin’ in jail made me -feel for them and their weepin’ brides. - -The female elements in politics would be, as you may say, justice -tempered down with mercy; justice kep’ a sayin’ to me, “Solomon Cypher -is in jail and he ort to be, for truly he played horse and disturbed the -peace;” but mercy whispered to me in the other ear: “If he is humbled -down and willin’ to do better, give him a chance.” - -Punishment if it means anything means jest that; it hadn’t ort to be -malicious enjoyment to the punishers; it ort to be for the reformin’ of -the criminals, and makin’ of ’em better. And that is why I never could -believe that chokin’ folks to death was the way to reform ’em, and make -better citizens of ’em. - -I found the bride a settin’ like a statute of grief on a bench, a -groanin’ and weepin’ and callin’ wildly on Doodle, and sayin’ if he was -alive she wouldn’t be in that perdickerment—which I couldn’t deny, and -didn’t try to. But I told her firmly that this was no time to indulge in -her feelins, or call on Doodle, and if she wanted a bail put onto -Solomon Cypher, we must hasten to his dungeon. - -So we hurried onwards, and right in the path we met Gen. Hawley; and -even then, in that curious time, I thought I never did see a handsomer, -well meaniner face than hisen. And now it looked better than ever for it -had pity onto it, which will make even humblyness look well. That man -respects me deeply; he see the mission I was a performin’ on, and the -hefty principles I was a carryin’ round with me on a tower, and now as -he looked at my agitated face and then at the weepin’ bride, he stopped -and says in that honest good way of hisen, and with that dretful clever -look to his eyes: - -“Josiah Allen’s wife, you are in trouble; can I help you in any way?” - -“No,” says I, “not _now_ you can’t.” I put a awful meanin’ axent onto -that ‘now,’ and says he: - -“Do I understand you to say Madam that at some future time I can? You -know you can command me.” - -(A better dispositioned, accommodatiner, well meaniner man, never walked -afoot; I knew that from the first on’t.) But duty and justice hunched me -up, one on each side, and says I sadly, “My advice wasn’t took, the -Sentinal was licenced, and Solomon Cypher is drunk as a fool.” - -He felt bad; he sithed, to think after all I had said and done about it, -the Sentinal was licenced, and some of my folks had got drunk. It -mortified him dretfully I know, but I wouldn’t say anything to make him -feel any worse, and I only says, says I: - -“The Nation wouldn’t take my advice, and you see if it don’t sup sorrow -for it; you see if it don’t see worse effects from it than Solomon -Cypher’s gittin’ drunk and playin’ horse. And if you see me to the next -Sentinal, Joseph, you jest tell me if I haint in the right on’t.” - -But I hadn’t no time to multiply any more words with him, for the bride -groaned out agonizinly, and called on Doodle and his linement in such a -heartbreakin’ way, they was enough to draw tears from a soap stun. - -But I will pass over my sufferins of mind, body and ears, only sayin’ -that they was truly tegus, till at last we stood before the recumbard -form of Solomon Cypher a layin’ stretched out on the floor in as -uncomfortable a position as I ever sot my eyes on; he looked almost -exactly like a sick swine that Josiah had in the spring. But I hope to -goodness the swine won’t never hear I said so, if it should, I should be -ashamed and apologize to it, for that got sick on sweet whey, which is a -far nobler sickness than likker sickness. And then the Lord had made -that a brute by nater, and it hadn’t gone to work and made itself so as -Solomon had. - -But oh! how the bride did weep and cry as she looked down on him, and -how heartrendin’ she did call on Doodle, sayin’ if he had lived she -wouldn’t have been in that perdickerment; it was a strange -time,—curious. - -And we left him after leavin’ some money to have him let out jest as -quick as he could walk. I didn’t try to do anything for Cornelius Cork -or the Editor of the Auger’ses case. I was completely tuckered out; and -in the mornin’ I was so lame that I couldn’t hardly stand on my feet. My -back was in a awful state; it wasn’t so much a pain as I told Josiah, -but there seemed to be a creek a runnin’ down through my back, as -curious a feelin’ as I ever felt; and though we hadn’t seen half or a -fourth of what we wanted to see, I told Josiah that we must start for -home that day; had it not been for the creek runnin’ down my back we -should have staid two days longer at least. - -Josiah rubbed my back with linement before we started, almost tenderly; -but right when he was rubbin’ in the linement the most nobby he says to -me: “This creek wouldn’t never have been Samantha, if you hadn’t helped -put a bail onto anybody.” - -[Sidenote: THE END OF OUR TOWER] - -Says I, “When anybody is preformin’ about a mission like mine, on a -tower, and gits hurt; their noble honor, their happy conscience holds -’em up even if their own pardner tries to run ’em down.” - -Says I, “Mebby it is all for the best, our goin’ home this mornin’, for -that hen is liable to come off now any minute, and I ort to be there.” - -He said he had been ready for a week, which indeed he had, for truly the -price he had to pay for our two boards was enormous; I never see nor -heerd of such costly boards before. So we started about half-past eight -o’clock, calculatin’ to git home the second day, for we was goin’ home -the shortest way, stayin’ one night to a tarvern. - -And the next night about sundown my Josiah and me arrove home from the -Sentinal, and it seemed as if old Nater had been a lottin’ on our comin’ -and fixed up for us and made a fuss, everything looked so uncommon -beautiful and pleasant. There had been a little shower that afternoon, -and the grass in the door yard looked green and fresh as anything. The -sweet clover in the meadow made the air smell good enough to eat if you -could have got holt of it; our bees was a comin’ home loaded down with -honey, and the robins in the maples and the trees over in the orchard -sang jest as if they had been practicin’ a piece a purpose to meet us -with, it was perfectly beautiful. And the posy beds and the mornin’ -glories at the winders and the front porch, and the curtains at our -bed-room winder, and the door step, and everything, looked so good to me -that I turned and says to my pardner with a happy look: - -“Home is the best place on earth, haint it Josiah Allen?” says I, -“towers are pleasant to go off on, but they are tuckerin, especially -high towers of principle such as I have been off a performin’ on.” - -But Josiah looked fractious and worrysome, and says he: - -“What I want to know is, what we are goin’ to have for supper; there -haint no bread nor nothin’, and I’d as lives eat bass-wood chips and -shingles as to eat Betsey Slimpsey’s cookin’.” - -But I says in tender tones, for I knew I could soothe him down -instantly: - -“How long will it take your pardner, Josiah Allen, to make a mess of -cream biscuit, and broil some of that nice steak we jest got to -Jonesville, and mash up some potatoes? And you know,” says I in the same -gentle axents, “there is good butter and cheese and honey and canned -peaches and everything right in the suller.” - -All the while I was speakin’, my Josiah’s face begun to look happier and -happier, and more peaceful and resigned, and as I finished, and he got -down to help me out, he looked me radiantly and affectionately in the -face, and says he: - -“It is jest as you say, Samantha; there’s no place like home.” - -[Sidenote: HOME AFFAIRS] - -Says I, “I knew you would feel jest so; home when it is the home of the -heart as well as the body, is almost a heaven below. And,” I added in -the same tones, or pretty nigh the same, “mebby you had better git me a -little kindlin’ wood Josiah, before you unharness.” - -He complied with my request and in about an hour’s time we sot down to a -supper good enough for a king, and Josiah said it was. He acted happy, -very, and exceedinly clever; he had found everything right to the barn, -and I also to the house, and we felt well. And though we had held firm, -and wouldn’t have took no rash means to git rid of our trouble, it did -seem such a blessed relief to be at rest from David Doodle; it seemed so -unutterably sweet not to have his linement throwed in our faces every -moment. - -Thomas J. wasn’t comin’ home till Saturday. We see him and Tirzah Ann as -we come through Jonesville, and they said the last of the ‘Creation -Searchers’ had got home, but their conduct had leaked out through the -bride and the Editor of the Auger’ses wife, and they dassant go out in -the street, any one of ’em, they had so much fun poked at ’em. Betsey -come in at night; she had been to Miss Daggets to work, and she had a -flour sack with some beans, and other provisions. - -Says I in pityin’ axents, “How do you do, Betsey?” - -Well she said she enjoyed real poor health; she had got the shingles the -worst kind, and a swelled neck, and the newraligy, and the ganders, and -says she, “Havin’ to support a big family in this condition makes it -hard for me.” - -“Don’t your husband help you any, Betsey?” says I. - -“Oh!” says she, “he is down with the horrers the hull time,” says she, -“my work days haint half so bad as the hard times I have nights,” she -said she didn’t git no sleep at all hardly. - -Says I, “Haint you most sorry Betsey that you ever tried to git -married?” - -She felt so bad and was so discouraged and down-hearted that she come -out the plainest I ever see her, and says she: - -“Josiah Allen’s wife, I’ll tell you the truth! If it wasn’t for the name -of bein’ married, and the dignity I got by bein’ in that state, I should -be sorry as I could be; but,” says she as she lifted her flour sack of -provisions onto her tired shoulders previous to startin’ home, “I -wouldn’t part with the dignity I got by bein’ married, not for a ten -cent bill, as bad as I want money, and as much as I need it.” - -[Illustration] - - - - - THE REUNION. - - -The mornin’ of the fourteenth of September dawned fair and peacefully. -The sun rose up considerable early in the mornin’, and looked down with -a calm and serene face upon Jonesville and the earth. And not fur from -the same time, I too, rose up and with as calm and serene a face as -hisen, I went to work and got a excellent breakfast for my Josiah and -me. It was the day we had looked forred to for a year. The deed that was -to give our Tirzah Ann and her pardner a handsome home lay in security -in the depths of my Josiah’s vest pocket, and in the buttery was a big -basket full of as good vittles as was ever baked by woman—enough to last -’em a week. The new carpets and housen stuff had been privately carried -into the house, unbeknown to them; and that very afternoon was the time -we was a goin’ to make ’em almost perfectly happy. Oh! how serene and -noble I felt as I poured out my dish-water and washed my breakfast -dishes. - -And as I washed and wiped I thought of the childern; thought how well -Thomas J. was a doin’, and how Tirzah Ann and Whitfield had been -prospered ever sense they took their bridal tower. I s’pose they had a -dretful hard time then; I s’pose they suffered as much agony on that -bridal tower, as any two bridals ever suffered in the same length of -time. Tirzah Ann haint got over that tower to this day, and Whitfield -looks mad every time he hears the word mentioned. They have both told me -sense (in strict confidence) at two separate times, that if they was a -goin’ to be married twenty-five times a piece, they had gone off on -their last tower. - -You see the way on’t was, Tirzah Ann—not bein’ used to travellin’—got -lost. Whitfield left her a minute on the platform to go back after her -parasol, and she heerd ’em say “All aboard,” and she thought she must -git on that minute or die. He, seein’ she was gone, thought she had went -back after him, and he went searchin’ after her. The train went on; he -took the next train up, and she the next train down, and they passed -each other; and then she took the next train up, and he the next train -down, and they missed each other again. And so they kep’ it up all the -first day and night. Finally, the next mornin’ the conductor—bein’ a old -gentleman, and good hearted—telegraphed to Whitfield that he would be to -the upper depot at 10 o’clock, and told him to come on instantly and -claim his property and pay charges, or it would spile on his hands. I -s’pose she did take on awfully, not bein’ used to trouble; she fainted -dead away when Whitfield come on and claimed her and paid charges; and -the old gentleman bein’ crazy with trouble deluged a mop-pail full of -water onto her, and spilte every rag of her clothes, bunnet and all. -Thirty dollars wouldn’t have made her whole; I s’pose she looked like a -banty hen after a rain storm. - -[Illustration: BRINGIN’ HER TO.] - -[Sidenote: A BRIDAL TOWER] - -When they got to Whitfield’s cousins—where they expected to stay—they -was away from home. Then they went to a second cousins; they was havin’ -a funeral. Then they went to a third cousins, and they had the tyfus. -Then they went to the only tarvern in the place; they was all right -there, only the whoopin’ cough; and they never havin’ had it, took it, -and come down in nine days—coughed and whooped awful. - -They laid out to stay a fortnite on their tower, and they did; but they -have both told me sense (in confidence, and I wouldn’t want it told of -from me,) that their sufferins durin’ that time, can be imagined, but -never described upon. The first cousin come home and sent for ’em, but -she was of a jealous make, and kinder hinted that Tirzah Ann run away -from Whitfield a purpose—didn’t come right out and say it, but kep’ a -hintin’—made them feel as uncomfortable as if they was raked up on a -coal. And then she would look at Tirzah Ann’s clothes that was -spilte—when she fainted away, and was fetched to by water—and kinder -hint that she had fell into some creek. I s’pose she kep’ Tirzah Ann on -the tenderhooks the hull time, without sayin’ a word they could resent -or make her take back. - -And then she and Whitfield was dressed up all the time, and wanted to -act natteral, and couldn’t—felt as if they must behave beautiful, and -polite every minute. Why! I s’pose they got so sick of each other that -they wished, both on ’em, that they had lived single, till they died of -old age. And then on their way back they both had the blind headache, -every step of the way, coughed their heads most off, and whooped—Tirzah -Ann told me—as if they was two wild Injuns on a war path. Truly they had -got enough of weddin’ towers to last through a long life. - -Somehow Thomas Jefferson always felt different about such things. I’ve -heerd him and Tirzah Ann—before she was married—argue about it, time and -again. He said he couldn’t for his life see why folks felt as if they -had got to go a caperin’ off somewhere, the minute they was married—and -to tell the plain truth, I, myself, never could see the necessity, when -they both feel as strange as strange can be, to think of goin’ off into -a strange land to feel strange in. - -It is curious enough and solemn enough to enter into a new life, -untried, crowded full of possibilities for happiness or misery, if you -face that future calmly and with bodily ease. It is a new life, not to -be entered into highlariously, tired to death, and wild as two lunys, at -the rate of twenty miles an hour, amidst the screechins of omnibus -drivers and pop corn peddlers, but with calmness, meditation, and -prayer. That is my idee; howsumever, everybody to their own. - -And then another thing that made Tirzah Ann’s tower so awful tryin’; she -had wore herself down almost to a skeleton and got irritable and -nervous, a makin’ tattin, and embroideries; for she felt she couldn’t be -married till she had got her nineteenth suit all trimmed off to the -extreme of the fashion. - -Thomas J. and Maggy (they think alike on most things) always felt -different about that. I have heerd Maggy say that she never could -understand why it was necessary for a girl to make up such a stupendus -amount of clothin’ to marry one man in—a man she had seen every day from -her youth up. She said that any civilized young woman who respected -herself, would have enough clothin’ by her all the time to be -comfortable and meet any other emergency of life; and she couldn’t -understand why her marryin’ to a mild dispositioned young man, should -render it imperative to disable several dressmakers, make mothers -lunatics with fine sewin’, and work themselves down to a complete -skeleton, makin’ up as many garments as if they was goin’ for life into -a land where needles was unknown, and side thimbles was no more. - -And to tell the truth I joined with her; I always thought that health -and a good disposition would be more useful, and go further than tattin -in the cares and emergencies of married life; and that girls would do -better to spend some of their time a makin’ weddin’ garments for their -souls, gettin’ ready the white robes of patience and gentleness, and -long sufferins. They’ll need them, every rag on ’em if they are married -any length of time. But everybody has their ways, and Tirzah Ann had -hers, and truly she had the worst of it. - -I finished washin’ my dishes, and then I brought out my linen dress and -cape, and my common bunnet, so’s to have everything ready. Jest as I -come out with ’em on my arm, Thomas J. come in, and says he: - -“Wear your best shawl and bunnet this afternoon, won’t you mother?” - -Says I, “Why, Thomas Jefferson?” - -Says he, “I didn’t know but you would want to step into the Presbeteryun -church this afternoon on your way down to Tirzah Ann’s. There is a -couple a goin’ to be married there at two o’clock.” - -“Who be they Thomas J.?” says I. - -Says he, “It is a couple that don’t want to be gossiped about; that -think marriage is sunthin’ too sacred and holy to be turned into a -circus, with tinsel and folderols, and a big crowd of strangers a gazin’ -on—the woman dressed up for principal performer, and the man for a -clown. A couple that wants jest them they love best—” - -I dropped right down into a chair and put up my gingham apron over my -eyes and bust right out a cryin’, and I couldn’t have helped it, if -Josiah had stood over me with a meat-axe. I knew who it was that was -goin’ to be married and most probable set off for the west in the -mornin’. Goin’ way off west; my boy, my Thomas Jefferson. - -He come up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder and said in a kind -of a tremblin’ voice—he thinks a sight of me, my boy does; and then he -knows enough to know that a new life is a serious thing to set out on, -even if love goes with ’em—says he: - -“I thought you loved Maggy, mother.” - -Says I, out from under my apron, “You know I do, Thomas Jefferson, and -you ort to know your mother well enough to know she is a cryin’ for -pleasure, pure enjoyment.” I wasn’t a goin’ to put no dampers onto my -boy’s happiness that day, not if he sot off the next minute for the -Antipithes. He stood there for a moment with his hand on my shoulder, -and then he bent down and kissed me, and that was every word he said. -Then he went up stairs to git ready. - -It seems he had jest told his father to the barn, and Josiah come in all -broke down about his goin’ off west. Maggy was my choice, and hisen, but -the goin’ west was where the cast-iron entered into our very souls. But -when I see my companion’s mean, I see where my duty lay, and I grasped -holt of it. I knew he was completely unstrung, and I had got to string -him up by my example, or he would crumple completely down on my hands. I -see if I kep’ my Josiah collected together, I must keep my own composure -up, and be calm. But while holdin’ up Duty and Josiah with a almost -marble grip, what feelins I felt when we was on our way to the meetin’ -house. What feelins I felt when I see Thomas J. and Maggy standin’ up in -front of the altar, and Elder Colvin Kirk a marryin’ of ’em. - -Maggy was dressed up in a white mull dress, with some lace ruffles round -her neck and wrists. Not a mite of jewelry on her from head to foot, -only a little pearl cross and ring that Thomas J. had give her; the -ruffle round her neck was fastened in front with some sweet white -poseys,—and she looked as pretty as the poseys herself, and prettier. -Thomas Jefferson had on his best suit of clothes, and oh! how good he -did look to me. And to think he was a goin’ way off where I couldn’t lay -my eyes on him, or her either! Why, if I had leggo for a half a moment -of Duty and Josiah, I should have groaned to that extent that it would -have skairt ’em nearly to death. - -But I held firm, and in the stoop of the meetin’-house I kissed ’em both -and wished ’em well, with a almost marble composure. And with the same -cast-iron command of myself, I got into the buggy and sot out for Tirzah -Ann’s; she, and Whitfield and—well, it haint no matter who, but they, -and Thomas J. and Maggy follerin’, and Judge Snow (he has been put in -Judge and feels big about it they say) sayin’ he would join us at -supper. He was in the secret of the deed, and so was Thomas Jefferson -and Maggy. - -But as we started off, Josiah groaned to that extent that he skairt the -old mare, and I almost commanded him to control himself and be calm. But -though he made a great effort, it was in vain; he groaned nearly every -step of the way, and when he wasn’t a groanin’ he was a sithin’ fearful -sithes. Oh! what a time I had. - -Well, when we got to Tirzah Ann’s, we (havin’ the supper on our minds) -told ’em we had a little business to tend to, and we wouldn’t git out of -the buggy jest then, so we drove on and left ’em there by the gate. Oh! -how beautiful and fair the house did look on the inside and on the -outside, and I says to Josiah: “I don’t believe Josiah Allen, there is -another so pretty a place in Jonesville as this is!” - -[Sidenote: A GOOD TIME GENERALLY] - -He was a standin’ out in the front portico as I said this, and says he: -“Yes there is, Samantha; this house that stands right here by it, is -jest as pretty;” and it was. There it stood, so peaceful and pretty, -right by the side of this one, with green shady yards in front, and a -handsome little lattice work gate all runnin’ over with green vines and -poseys openin’ between the two. Oh! how perfectly beautiful they did -look, and I knew this thought goared Josiah and me at the same -time,—what if Thomas J. could be the doctor here in Jonesville and live -right here by Tirzah Ann. Oh, what bliss it would be! Then I turned and -went to unpackin’ my vittles, and settin’ the table. It looked splendid; -and after I got it all done I sent Josiah for the childern and—well, I -sent him for all on ’em. - -And I shant begin to tell how Whitfield and Tirzah Ann acted when they -come into that bright cosy little home, and Josiah put the deed of it -into their hands; I dassant tell, for anybody would think they was -lunys. I have seen tickled folks in my life, but never, never, did I see -tickleder, that I know. Why, Whitfield looked fairly pale at first, and -then his face flushed up as happy as a king. And Tirzah Ann cried a -little, and then she laughed, and then she went to kissin’ of us like a -little fury; she kissed her pa and me, and Whitfield and Thomas J. and -Maggy, and—well, she kissed the hull on us more’n forty times I do -believe. - -And seein’ ’em both so tickled, and feelin’ so happy in their happiness, -I do believe if it hadn’t been for the drawback of our boy’s goin’ west, -Josiah and me would have broke down, and acted simple. - -Judge Snow come jest as we was a settin’ down to the table. He seemed to -be in awful good spirits, kep’ a jokin’ all supper time, and thinks’es I -to myself, “You must feel different from what I do, if you can face the -idee of your child’s goin’ west with such highlarity and mirth.” But -truly, I wronged him; truly a shock was in store for us all; for as we -got up from the supper table and went back into the settin’room, he -stood up and says he in a deep noble voice: (they say his voice sounds a -good deal nobler, and deeper, sense he got to be a Judge,) - -“Have you heerd that Doctor Bombus has had a dowery fall to him, and has -give up docterin’?” - -“No!” says I, and we all said “no!” we hadn’t heerd on’t. - -“Yes,” says he, “he has; he doctered a woman up in the town of Lyme and -her husband settled 500 dollars a year on him for life.” - -“He cured her,” says I, “what gratitude!” - -“No,” says he, “he didn’t cure her, she died, but the widower give him -the dowery, and he is goin’ to give up docterin’,” - -The minute he said “give up docterin’,” the thought come to me: what a -chance for Thomas Jefferson! mebby he wouldn’t have to go west; and I -felt as if there had been as many as seven flat-irons took offen my -heart, and two or three cannon balls, and some lead, and things. I -looked at Josiah, and Josiah looked at me, and we both smiled; we -couldn’t help it. But better was a comin’, for right while we was a -smilin’ the Judge spoke out again in a eloquent, sort of a low tone: - -“Whereas Josiah Allen and Samantha his wife, has presented a deed of -this house and lot to their daughter and her husband aforesaid, I, the -party of the second part, I mean, I, Judge Snow, have purchased of Dr. -Bombus his practice, and got a deed of the house and lot adjoinin’ this -for you Maggy, and you Thomas Jefferson, and may the Lord have mercy on -your souls.” - -I s’pose bein’ so agitated, he forgot where he was and thought he was a -judgin’, and then he handed the deed to Maggy, and blew his nose hard. -As for me, nobody need to ask me how any of ’em behaved, for the minute -I see what was a comin’, I almost buried my face in my handkerchief, and -sobbed and wept like a infant babe. But through my wrapped blissfulness -of mood—for the ear of affection is keen—I could hear my Josiah a -blowin’ his nose, and I knew he too was in perfect rapture. Oh! Oh! what -a time it was. - -[Illustration: JUDGE SNOW’S SURPRISE] - -But I hadn’t time to weep long in my pure blissfulness of spirit, for -Judge Snow proposed we should all walk over and see the house, and he -took right holt of my arm and locked arms with me (he meant well, Josiah -was right there) and we led the way, and Thomas Jefferson and Maggy a -follerin’ as happy as any two turtle doves I ever see, and then -Whitfield and Tirzah Ann, and then Josiah and—well, who do you s’pose he -was a waitin’ on. What female do you s’pose he was a carryin’ in his -arms, and wouldn’t let no one else touch it if he could help it, and -kissin’ her right before his lawful pardner too, and she enjoyin’ of it? -Who was it? I can’t keep in a minute longer; it was the baby—Tirzah -Ann’s little infant babe. I have kep’ still about it; I have held the -baby back to surprise the reader and happyfy ’em. And so the hull -procession of us walked over the grass, green as green velvet, under the -pleasant shade trees, under the little vine covered gate, and so through -the other yard jest as green and shady and pleasant, up into the house -which was to be my boy’s home. - -Bimeby they all went over to Whitfield’s house, to examine sunthin’ or -measure sunthin’, for Judge Snow was rampant now about furnishin’ the -house right off, so they could git to housekeepin’. And Josiah and I and -the baby went out and sot down under a big maple out in the yard. And we -sot there happy as a king and queen, knowin’ them we loved best was a -goin’ to be right here where we could lay our hands on ’em any time day -or night. Come a visitin’ ’em every day if we wanted to, spend the -forenoon with one, and the afternoon with the other or anyway to make it -agreeable. Oh what a happyfyin’ time it was out there under the maple -tree! The baby would kinder nod its head towards their house, and laugh -when Josiah would shake it up, jest as if she thought their house was -the prettiest. Such a knowledgeable child! I never see the beat of it in -my life. - -[Sidenote: THE BABY] - -We think, and we know—Josiah and me do—that there never was such a child -before. It is only eleven weeks old but its intellect is sunthin’ -wonderful to study on. It understands everything that is goin’ on jest -as well as I do, and it does have such a cunnin’ look to it, and so -sensible. Its eyes are big, and a goin’ to be a sort of grey brown; they -have a unworldly, innocent look, sort o’ deep and dreamy, jest as if it -could tell if it was a mind to, a awful sight about the world it had -come from so lately. Sometimes when there is foolish talk a goin’ on -round it, it will kinder curl up its little lip and wink at me with its -big solemn eyes, till it fairly scares me to see such a little thing -know so much more than any grown folks. - -And then it is so lady-like in its appearance; has got such good -manners, such composure, such almost cool dignity; it is jest as much at -its ease before a minister as before a tin peddler, uses ’em both well, -but not put out by ’em a mite; cool, and collected together all the -time, jest like a little queen. And it don’t seem to be a mite -deceitful; it don’t try to cover up its thoughts and idees, it is jest -like lookin’ through these clay bodies of ourn and seein’ a soul, to -look at that babe. - -I am one that loves reason and philosophy. I have acted well about it; -some grandmothers will act so foolish. I can’t bear to see foolishness -in grandparents, and Josiah can’t neither. Now when it was half a day -old, Sister Minkley thought it looked like Whitfield; I, myself, thought -it looked more like a monkey. I didn’t say so, I wouldn’t for the world. -I looked at it jest as I do at a little hard green bud that appears -first on a rose bush; there haint no beauty to speak of in it; it is -hard lookin’ and it is green lookin,’ and curious. But you set a awful -sight of store by that little hard lookin’ thing, for you know the -possibilities of handsomeness that are folded up in it,—the dainty -rosiness, the freshness, the sweetness. And so with the baby; when I -thought of the possibilities of beauty wrapped up in it—the smiles, the -pinky dimpled cheeks, the curly gold hair, the innocent baby laugh, the -pretty broken talk, the angelical purity, and the confidin’ -confidence—why, when I thought of all this, there wasn’t a dry eye in my -head, and my heart sung for joy (though it don’t understand a single -note). - -When the baby was four days old, Josiah thought it knew him; when it was -a week old he thought it was a tryin’ to talk to him, and said it -laughed jest as quick as he went near the cradle. - -Says I, “Josiah Allen, it is wind!” - -“Wind!” he hollered, “mebby you think it is wind that makes _you_ know -me, and set considerable store by me.” He almost took my head off, and I -see by his mean that it wouldn’t do to say any more. - -But when it was two weeks old, I think, myself, that the baby knew -us—Josiah and me; it looked up to us somehow different from what it did -to its Grandpa and Grandma Minkley, though it used _them_ well. We are -there to see the baby almost every day and we take a sight of comfort -with it, for we see and realize jest what a child it is, and bein’ -foundered on firm reason and solid truth, we are not afraid to express -our opinions to anybody freely, without money and without price. But as -I remarked more formally, we don’t act foolish about it at all. - -“Its name is Samantha Jo, after me, and Josiah. You know they call girls -Jo and Josie a sight lately; its name is agreeable to Josiah and me, -very. Josiah is goin’ to give it a cow for the Samantha, and I am goin’ -to give it a set of silver spoons for the Jo. If it had been a boy, we -was a layin’ out to call it Josiah Sam,—Sam for Samantha.” - -There is a dark veil that drops down between us and future events; you -can’t lift up that curtain, or tear it offen its hooks, for it is as -high up as Eternity, and solid down to the ground, as solid can be. You -can’t peek round it, or tear a hole in it; tea-grounds haint a goin’ to -help you; planchettes and cards can’t hist it up a mite; you have got to -set down before the curtain that hides the future from you, and wait -patiently till it is rolled up by the hand that put it there; but I am a -episodin.’ - -[Illustration: UNDER THE MAPLES.] - -[Sidenote: ALL HAPPY] - -And so we sot there under the maples—Josiah and me and the baby. And -once in a while, a maple leaf would come a flutterin’ down like a great -crimson posey, and the baby would laugh and stretch out its little -dimpled hands and try to catch it, and the sunshine would throw golden -rings on her little white gown and hands and arms, and she would try to -lay holt of ’em and couldn’t, jest as natteral as if she was bigger. And -then the baby would laugh, and Josiah would laugh, and the old maple -tree as the settin’ sun shone through it seemed to be all lit up with -the general enjoyment. That old maple tree acted sensible, and I knew -it. What if her leaves was a flutterin’ down gradual; what if the fall -of the year was a comin’ on? She didn’t mourn over it no more than I -mourned as I sot there, over all the days and years, the delights and -the sorrows, that had slipped away from me somehow, and floated off out -of my life unbeknown to me. - -She knew—that old maple did—that it was only for a time. That another -summer was a comin’, when God would give back to her all she had lost, -and more. Knowin’ that the very loss of what she had loved and cherished -most, that even what some foolish ones called decay and death, would be -changed by His divine hand into deeper growth, diviner beauty. - -Oh, how chirk and happy my companion did look in his face; and oh, how -sort o’ lifted up, and yet dretful serene and happyfied _I_ felt in the -inside of my mind. It was a beautiful time, very. - -And never did I see my pardner wear a more contented and happy look on -his face when he sot down to a extra good dinner, than he did as he says -to me,—after lookin’ at the baby in perfect silence from a half to -three-quarters of a minute: - -“Heaven bless every little girl and boy in the land, for the sake of -little Samantha Jo!” - -And I felt so handsome and uncommon happy in my mind, and so wrapped up -in Josiah, that I spoke right up and says: - -“Yes, and all the old boys and girls too; amen!” - - - THE END. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. - 2. Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed. - 3. Added sidenotes for the items in the “WHAT I HAVE WRIT ABOUT” - contents without headings. - 4. 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