Around the World with Josiah Allen's Wife, Marietta Holley [best e reader for academics .txt] 📗

And then I say to him in a tender axent, for his devotion truly touched me:

“There is a difference in heads, Josiah.”

But he looked so worried that I most promised him I wouldn’t try to write about the trip––oh! how that man loves me, and I him visey versey. And so the days passed, little Tommy pale and pimpin’, Thomas J. lookin’ more cheerful as he thought his ma wuzn’t goin’ to fail him, Maggie tryin’ to keep up and tend to havin’ Tommy’s clothes fixed; she hated to have him go, and wanted him to go. She and Thomas J. wuz clingin’ to that string, black as a coal, and hash feelin’ to our fingers. Miss Meechim and Dorothy wuz as happy as could be. Miss Meechim wuz tall and slim 15 and very genteel, and sandy complected, and she confided her rulin’ passion to me the first time I see her for any length of time.

“I want Dorothy to be a bachelor maid,” sez she. “I am determined that she shall not marry anyone. And you don’t know,” sez she fervently, “what a help my nephew, Robert Strong, has been to me in protectin’ Dorothy from lovers. I am so thankful he is going with us on this long trip. He is good as gold and very rich; but he has wrong ideas about his wealth. He says that he only holds it in trust, and he has built round his big manufactory, just outside of San Francisco, what he calls a City of Justice, where his workmen are as well cared for and happy as he is. That is very wrong, I have told him repeatedly. It is breaking down the Scriptures, which teaches the poor their duty to the rich, and gently admonishes the rich to look down upon and guide the poor. How can the Scriptures be fulfilled if the rich lift up the poor and make them wealthy? I trust that Robert will see his mistake in time, before he makes all his workmen wealthy. But, oh, he is such a help to me in protecting Dorothy from lovers.”

“How duz he protect her?” sez I.

“Oh, he has such tact. He knows just how opposed I am to matrimony in the abstract and concrete, and he has managed gently but firmly to lead Dorothy away from the dangers about her. Now, he don’t care for dancing at all; but there was a young man at home who wuz just winning her heart completely with his dexterity with his heels, as you may say. He was the most graceful dancer and Dorothy dotes on dancing. I told my trouble to Robert, and what should that boy do but make a perfect martyr of himself, and after a few lessons danced so much better that Dorothy wuz turned from her fancy. And one of her suitors had such a melodious voice, he wuz fairly singin’ his way into her heart, and I confided my fears to Robert, and he immediately responded, dear boy. He just practised self-denial 16 again, and commenced singing with her himself, and his sweet, clear tenor voice entirely drowned out the deep basso I had feared. Of course, Robert did it to please me and from principle. I taught him early self-denial and the pleasures of martyrdom. Of course, I never expected he would carry my teachings to such an extent as he has in his business life. I did not mean it to extend to worldly matters; I meant it to be more what the Bible calls ‘the workings of the spirit.’ But he will doubtless feel different as he gets older. And, oh, he is such a help to me with Dorothy. Now, on this trip he knows my fears, and how sedulously I have guarded Dorothy from the tender passion, and it wuz just like him to put his own desires in the background and go with us to help protect her.”

“How did you git such dretful fears of marriage?” sez I. “Men are tryin’ lots of times, and it takes considerable religion to git along with one without jawin’ more or less. But, after all, I d’no what I should do without my pardner––I think the world on him, and have loved to think I could put out my hand any time and be stayed and comforted by his presence. I should feel dretful lost and wobblin’ without him,” sez I, with a deep sithe, “though I well know his sect’s shortcomin’s. But I never felt towards ’em as you do, even in my most maddest times, when Josiah had been the tryinest and most provokinest.”

“Well,” sez she, “my father spent all my mother’s money on horse-racin’, save a few thousand which he had invested for her, and she felt wuz safe, but he took that to run away with a bally girl, and squandered it all on her and died on the town. My eldest sister’s husband beat her with a poker, and throwed her out of a three-story front in San Francisco, and she landin’ on a syringea tree wuz saved to git a divorce from him and also from her second and third husbands for cruelty, after which she gave up matrimony and opened a boarding-house, bitter in spirit, but a good calculator. I lived with her when a young girl, and imbibed 17 her dislike for matrimony, which wuz helped further by sad experiences of my own, which is needless to particularize. (I hearn afterwards that she had three disappointments runnin’, bein’ humbly and poor in purse.)

“And now,” sez she, “I am as well grounded against matrimony as any woman can be, and my whole energies are aimed on teaching Dorothy the same belief I hold.”

“Well,” sez I, “your folks have suffered dretful from men and I don’t wonder you feel as you do. But what I am a goin’ to do to be separated from my husband durin’ this voyage is more than I can tell.” And I groaned a deep holler groan.

“Why, I haven’t told you half,” sez she. “All of my sisters but one had trouble with their husbands. Robert’s step-ma wuz the only one who had a good husband, but he died before they’d been married a year, and she follered him in six months, leaving twins, who died also, and I took Robert, to whom I had got attached, to the boarding-house, and took care on him until he wuz sent away to school and college. His pa left plenty of money,” sez she, “and a big fortune when he came of age, which he has spent in the foolish way I have told you of, or a great part of it.”

Well, at this juncture we wuz interrupted, and didn’t resoom the conversation until some days afterwards, though I wuz dretful interested in the big manufactory of Robert Strong’s, that big co-working scheme. (I had hearn Thomas J. commend it warmly.)

At last the day come for me to start. I waked up feelin’ a strange weight on my heart. I had dremp Philury had sot the soap stun on my chest. But no soap stun wuz ever so hard and heavy as my grief. Josiah and I wuz to be parted! Could it be so? Could I live through it? He wuz out in the wood-house kitchen pretendin’ to file a saw. File a saw before breakfast! He took that gratin’ job to hide his groans; he wuz weepin’; his red eyes betrayed him. Philury got a good breakfast which we couldn’t eat. My trunk wuz 18 packed and in the democrat. The neighborin’ wimmen brung me warm good-byes and bokays offen their house plants, and sister Sypher sent me some woosted flowers, which I left to home, and some caraway seed to nibble on my tower which I took.

She that wuz Arvilly Lanfeare brought me a bottle of bam made out of the bark of the bam of Gilead tree, to use in case I should get bruised or smashed on the train, and also two pig’s bladders blowed up, which she wanted me to wear constant on the water to help me float. She had painted on one of ’em the Jonesville meetin’-house, thinkin’, I spoze, the steeple might bring lofty thoughts to me in hurrycains or cyclones. And on the other one she had painted in big letters the title of the book she is agent for––“The Twin Crimes of America: Intemperance and Greed!” I thought it wuz real cunning in Arvilly to combine so beautifully kindness and business. There is so much in advertising. They looked real well, but I didn’t see how I wuz goin’ to wear ’em over my bask waist. Arvilly said she wanted to go with me the worst kind. Says she:

“I hain’t felt so much like goin’ anywhere sense I deserted.” (Arvilly did enlist in the Cuban army, and deserted, and they couldn’t touch her for it––of which more anon.)

And I sez to her: “I wish you could go, Arvilly; I believe it would do you good after what you have went through.”

Well, the last minute come and Ury took us to the train. Josiah went with me, but he couldn’t have driv no more than a mournin’ weed could.

I parted with the children, and––oh! it wuz a hard wrench on my heart to part with Thomas J.; took pale little Tommy in my arms, like pullin’ out his pa’s heart-strings––and his ma’s, too––and at last the deepo wuz reached.

As we went in we see old Miss Burpy from ’way back of Loontown. She wuz never on the cars before, or see ’em, 19 but she wuz sent for by her oldest boy who lives in the city.

She was settin’ in a big rocken’-chair rocken voyolently, and as I went past her she says:

“Have we got to New York yet?”

“Why,” sez I, “we haint started.”

She sez, “I thought I wuz in the convenience now a-travellin’.”

“Oh, no,” I sez, “the conveyance haint come yet, you will heer it screechin’ along pretty soon.”

Anon we hearn the train thunderin’ towards us. I parted with Tirzah Ann and Whitfield, havin’ shook hands with Ury before; and all others being parted from, I had to, yes, I had to, bid my beloved pardner adoo. And with a almost breakin’ heart clum into the car, Miss Meechim and Dorothy and Aronette having preceeded me before hand. Yes, I left my own Josiah behind me, with his bandanna pressed to his eyes.

Could I leave him? At the last minute I leaned out of the car winder and sez with a choken voice:

“Josiah, if we never meet again on Jonesville sile, remember there is a place where partin’s and steam engines are no more.”

His face wuz covered with his bandanna, from whence issued deep groans, and I felt I must be calm to boy him up, and I sez:

“Be sure, Josiah, to keep your feet dry, take your cough medicine reglar, go to meetin’ stiddy, keep the pumps from freezin’, and may God bless you,” sez I.

And then again I busted into tears. The hard-hearted engine snorted and puffed, and we wuz off.