Chapter I: Part 1

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MY WAYWARD PARDNER;
OR,
MY TRIALS
WITH
JOSIAH, AMERICA, THE WIDOW BUMP,
AND ETCETERY.

BY

JOSIAH ALLEN’S WIFE,
(MARIETTA HOLLEY,)

AUTHOR OF “MY OPINIONS AND BETSEY BOBBET’S,” “SAMANTHA AT THE
CENTENNIAL,” &C.

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“_Wimmen is my theme, and also Josiah._”

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=Illustrations by True W. Williams.=

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PUBLISHED BY SUBSCRIPTION ONLY.

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HARTFORD, CONN.:
AMERICAN PUBLISHING COMPANY.
1882.

COPYRIGHT BY

MARIETTA HOLLEY.

1880.

(All rights reserved.)

TO JOSIAH AND AMERICA.

WITH THE HOPE THAT HE AND SHE BOTH WILL PUT THEIR
BEST FOOT FORWARD AND WALK OFF NOBLY IN
THE PATH OF RIGHT THIS BOOK
IS DEDICATED BY
THEIR AFFECTIONATE FRIEND AND WELL WISHER,

_JOSIAH ALLEN’S WIFE_

PREFACE.

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I told Josiah that I guessed I would write a book about several things—and wimmen. Says I, “My mind has been dretful agitated lately about that certain lot of female wimmen that are sufferin’ more than tongue can tell. Why,” says I, “when I think of their agony and wrongs, it fairly makes the blood bile in my veins. I love the female sect,” says I firmly, “I am one of ’em myself.”

Says he (not wantin’ me to say a word about it), “Let ’em write about it themselves.”

Says I, “Josiah Allen, do you remember when you fell down through the barn and broke your limb, and most broke your other leg?”

“Yes,” says he, “but what of it?”

Says I, “What if I had stood still in the buttery winder, and hollered at you to help yourself, and if you was in pain to get out of it?”

“Well,” says he, “let ’em get some of their own folks to do the writin’ then. They haint none of your folks, nobody won’t expect nothin’ of you.” (He had reasons for not wantin’ me to tell all I knew about certain things.)

But I says in solemn tones, “Do you remember that time you fell, Josiah Allen, and I, bein’ bound down by rheumatizm, couldn’t do nothin’ but blow the dinner-horn for help, and Sam Snyder come on the run, and fetched you in, and went after the doctor?”

“Throw that leg in my face, if you want to, but what of it?”

Says I, “Them sufferin’ female wimmen are bound down fur more painfully and gauling than you wuz. I haint the strength to lift ’em up myself, but I am a goin’ to toot the horn for help. I am a goin’ to blow through it powerful breaths of principle and warnin’; and mebby another Samuel, an uncle of mine, that I honor and admire, may hear it, and start off on the run, and lift the hull of them poor female wimmen up, out of their pain and humiliatin’ situation. He can do it if he is a mind to,” says I, “as easy as Sam Snyder lifted you, and easier, for he sweat powerful, and most dropped you once or twice. And,” says I firmly, “my mind is made up, Josiah Allen, I shall holler for Samuel.”

“Wall, wall, holler away, for all I care.” He had strong reasons for not wantin’ me to speak a word about certain things, and his tone was very snappish, snappisher than it had been for over seven weeks. But such trials do great spirits no harm; no, it only lifts ’em up above their own earthly peace and happiness, and sets ’em more firmly and stiddily on their loftier spears.

I sithed, but I didn’t contend another word with him, only jest that sithe, and then I commenced to write my book.

WHAT THE BOOK IS ABOUT.

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JOSIAH ALLEN GOES ASTRAY.

A curious World and a curious Coincidence—Realms of
Mystery—Josiah Acts queer and Sits on a Volcano—“Wait till
Evenin’”—Widow Bump and Her Nutcakes are Discussed—How She
Ruined the Tailors—A tedious Evening and a Night of
Woe—Fearful Words from the sleeping Josiah—“The real Josiah,
Where was He?”—A mysterious Sign—Firm Resolves—“Pardners Must
Be Watched”—Duty Tackled—Josiah Stays at Home—Samantha’s
powerful Weapons victorious, and the Widow Bump Forgotten 19-51

KITTY SMITH AND CALEB COBB.

A Visit from One of the Smiths Who is Poor and Proud—Kitty’s
Secret, which Must Be Kept—Her Would-be Lover, and how She
Encouraged Him—Sketch of Kellup the Hearse-driver and His
Experiences with Hair dyes—Why He Didn’t Marry—Blamed by the
Census-taker—How Nine Girls Lost Him—How He Killed Jane
Sofier—The Death-Blow—His Warning to Women—Old Cobb and His
Arguments—A Sermon by Samantha—The old, old Story
Rehearsed—Kitty’s Kiss—Fun for Kitty 52-89

JOSIAH GOES INTO BUSINESS.

Josiah, Hankering for Speculation and Neighbors, Repairs the old
House and Rents It to “a beautiful Family” from Zoar—Rumors
that They were Smoked out—Josiah Feels neat, and Loves to
Neighbor—So Do the Spinkses, Their Cow, and Their Hens—They
Borrow Feather Beds, Pantaloons, and Pork—Their Twin “Takes to
Him”—He Nurses the Twin, Sleeps with the Boys, Chases the Cow,
and Takes “solid Comfort”; but “Gets mad” at last, and
Meditates Murder—Summary Process—Adieu to the Spinkses 90-118

MORALIZIN’ AND EPISODIN’.

Josiah Longs for more Speculation and Comes Home “as cross as a
Bear”—An Epoch of History—The new Head-dress and how It Was
Bought—Caleb Cobb’s Opinions thereof, and of extravagant
Members of the Meetin’-house—Samantha Rejoins, Holding up
Nature Wreathed in Beauty as a Pattern, and Advocating Charity
toward both the Rich and the Poor—Two Sides to
Everything—Naming the Baby—Caleb Changes the Subject, and
Starts off to Borrow the Stun-bolt 119-151

JOSIAH UNDERTAKES MORE BUSINESS.

How old Ben Mandagool Made Money—Josiah Wants to do likewise,
but Knowing Samantha will Object, Feels cross, Looks mauger,
and at last Says He Wants to take Summer Boarders—Affection
_vs._ Principle—Samantha Yields—Josiah Engages Boarders, and
Figures out the Profits—A Competency at last!—“Get a Girl”—The
Tip-toe of Expectation—Arrival of the Dankses—Tremendous
Appetites—Victuals and Profits Disappear—The Secret out—More
Trouble—A heavy Bill, and how he Flatted the Colt and Squshed
the Grin’-stun—How They Made Ghosts and Were hard on the Tom
Turkey—Night-walking and Historicks—Arrival of old Danks—The
Crisis—Josiah’s Wrath—How He Scared Danks, and how Danks
Scared him—Samantha Speaks of Matrimony and its
Responsibilities, and Consoles all Matrimourners—A Lawsuit and
its Result 152-188

A VISIT FROM MISS RICKERSON.

A windy Day—The Simons of the Desert—Good Advice to
Women—Preparing for an Emergency—“Likely Creeters”—Now and
then—Vain Experiments—The miscarried Letter—“She is Coming
to-day!”—Arrival of Miss Rickerson, she that Was an Allen—Her
flattering Tongue—How She Scared Caleb Cobb, Extolled the
Spring Corset, and made Josiah Think he was handsome—Our four
old Fathers and their chilly Blue Laws—“Praise your Friends
while they Are Living”—Samantha Holds firm, but Cooks good
Victuals, and Does well by Alzina Ann 189-204

CASSANDRA’S TEA PARTY.

History of Cassandra and her Misfortune—History of her bashful
Husband, Nathan Spooner—Some of his Adventures and
Experiences—How he Went hungry to Please Himself, and Feasted
to Please Others—How he Courted Cassandra—Scenes at the
Wedding—The Tea-party, and how Alzina Entertained Nathan—“The
Image of his Pa”—At the Tea-table, and how Nathan Said
Grace—Untimely Remarks—Samantha to the Rescue—After
Supper—Alzina Walks with Cassandra in the Garden—She Slanders
Josiah and Calls him a “humbly Creeter”—Samantha Appears on
the Scene—A Tableau—Sarcastic Remarks about People who Take
Liberties with their Friends—Alzina’s Confession—The Walk
homeward 205-229

THE LORDS OF CREATION.

Josiah Is proud and tickled because he Is a Man—His Opinion of
“Wimmen”—What old Error Would do if They Made the Laws, and
where York State Would Be—Samantha Points out a Monument of
Man’s Economy and Wisdom with Her new Tow-mop—A
Reminiscence—Under the Meetin’-house Shed—Guilt Arrayed in
festal Robes to Lure the Unwary 230-240

A EXERTION FOR PLEASURE.

Josiah’s new “Idee,” which Samantha Discourages—The Folly of
Chasing Pleasure—Exertion to the Lake Resolved on—Caleb
Sacrifices his own Pleasure for the Welfare of the Fair
Sect—He Is not Their Natural Enemy, but Can’t Marry Them
all—Preparations—Early to Bed—Visitors, and a Conference
Meetin’—“Galluses and Night Caps”—A Wild Night—Dreams—Josiah
Wears T. Jefferson’s Uniform—The Start—Arrival at the Lake—How
Twenty Old Fools “Sot Sail”—Overboard—Sea-sick and weak as
Cats—On the Sand-Beach—Demoralized Vittles—Wasps and
Muskeeters—Histing an Umbrell—Josiah Meets with Two Accidents,
and Retires to Meditate—A Search for Josiah—Josiah Wears a
Shawl and Looks meachin’—The Return to the Main-land, and Ride
Homeward in the Rain—The Rheumatiz Takes Hold—“Is this
Pleasure, Josiah Allen?” 241-269

A VISIT TO THE CHILDREN.

“The Croup Is around”—A Slave to Conscience—Caleb Enquires about
Kitty’s Health, and Decides that He May Marry Her—Why He Did
not Write to Her, and why He Wore old Clothes—A Funeral at Log
London—A Load of Company—The Start for Jonesville—Thomas J.
and Maggie—Providence and the Weather—Arrival at Whitfield’s—A
pretty Sight—Portraits of little Samantha Joe and Her Pa and
Ma—The Sun and Sunflower—The Kiss of Welcome—A Talk with
Tirzah Ann, Who Says They Are Going off for Rest and
Pleasure—“Miss Skidmore Is Going, and all genteel People
Go”—Samantha’s Advice, “Better Let Well Enough Alone,” is
Rejected—Who need a Change of Scene and who do not—The
Stiff-necked Miss Skidmore—Who Leads the Jonesville
Aristocracy?—How Samantha Prescribed for her, and Was Winked
out—“Burdock Won’t Help Her”—Proud Keturah Allen—Samantha’s
Ideas of People who Put on Airs and Feel above Her 270-302

TIRZAH ANN TO A WATERIN’ PLACE.

How Tirzah Ann, Whitfield, and Samantha Joe, Went off for Rest,
and how they Came back as poor as 3 Snails—Tirzah’s Story of
her Experiences and Wrongs at Miss Skidmore’s Tavern—How She
Resolved at Starting to outdo the Skidmores—How they Rested
and Recreated—Midnight in the fourth Story of a Waterin’
Place—The young Man who Was Crossed in Love, and the young
Maiden Who Owned a Melodeon—Wails of Woe—How the Baby Was
Skairt into the Historicks—Bathin’, deep Water, Cramps and
Drowndin’—Pulled out by the Hair—Too much Mineral Water—How
Whitfield Played Polo (a Game Josiah Wants to Play) and Was
Hit by a base Ball—How He Danced too much, and Got
Disabled—Evenin’ Parties, Dancin’ and Flirtin’—The Worst of
All; Tirzah’s dreadful Confession, Which must be Kept a
Secret; “She Flirted with a Man!”—About Her Trouble with
Whitfield in consequence, how He Was jealous, and how a
Separation Was imminent—“Such Doins!”—Piles of Money Spent,
and Morals Totterin’—Bought Wit is the best 303-329

MISS BOBBET LETS THE CAT OUT.

An old Acquaintance—Sorrows of Her domestic Life, and her great
Consolation—The Dignity of Marriage—Simon’s horrible Horrors—A
Present for Betsey—A Summer Evening’s Scene—Josiah and the
high-tide Level of Love—The Stranger in the Kitchen—How He
Looked, and What He Said—Why He didn’t Set down—He Calls for
some Cider, and Persisting in his Demands, is Driven from the
House at the Point of Samantha’s Umberel—Tobacco, and why
People Use it—A Visit from Betsey, who Says the Intruder is
Elder Judas Wart, Who is Sealed to Widder Bump, who has been
Forwarded to Utah by Express—Betsey Tells about his disabled
Wives, and about the Mormon Meetin’s in Jonesville—Shocking
Disclosures—“Bobbet Went to ’em and so did Josiah
Allen!”—Fearful Words—Samantha Groans aloud, and Feels
Wicked—The Mormon Wimmen’s Appeal to Emily (She that was a
Webb) and Samantha—A Woman to be proud of—Direlection in
Duty—Samantha’s firm Resolve to be up and Doin’—She Hankers to
Tackle Elder Wart and America, and Gets madder and madder 330-354

A SERENADIN’ EPISODE, ETC.

Betsey Bobbet’s new Poem, Entitled “A Wife’s Story,” and
Published in the _Gimlet_—She Laments her Wedded Life and
(although proud to Think she Married Simon) “to be a Widder is
her Theme”—“Husbands are Tryin’,” and Simon’s Loss would be
Betsey’s Gain—The pathetic Story of E. Wellington Gansey who
Came from the Ohio to Visit his Childhood’s Home—He is
Welcomed by His early Playmates, Has a good Time, and Resolves
to Move back to Jonesville—Josiah and Others Are so elated
that They Go to Serenade Him—Samantha, Left alone in the
House, Has exciting Experiences—She Hears Noises, Gets Skairt,
and Expects to be Burgled and Rapined—She is finally Appeared
to and Talks with the Ghost—Poor Tamer Mooney and Her horrible
Words—“Bloody Indians, Yells, and Tomyhawks!”—Rousting the
Neighbors—Reappearance of Josiah—What Hit Him—What Hit Old
Bobbet—What Hit the Editor of the _Augur_—What Hit Old Gansey,
etc.—Eliab leaves His Childhood’s Home, and Starts for the
Ohio by the first Train 355-396

JUDAS WART AND SUFFERIN’ WOMEN.

Josiah has a Stitch, Comes in on a Broom-handle, and is Made
comfortable—The Elder Wart also Comes in, Seems dreadful
Tickled, and Makes some complimentary Remarks—Josiah Overhears
them, and Forgets his “Stitch”—Samantha Rescues the Elder,
who, in retaliation, Twits Josiah about “a certain Widder” to
whom He Had Been partial—Josiah Denies the Imputation and Gets
luny—His strange Hallucination, and Memories of his
Childhood—Samantha, being again “Approached” by the Elder,
Gets mad and Threatens him with the Tea-kettle—He Wants to
“Argue,” and Samantha Tackles Him—What Mormons Worship—Who
they Rob and Murder—What they Covet, and Get, too—The
Wretchedness of Mormon Wimmen, and especially of Wife No.
1—Ruined Morals—Beelzebub’s own Timber—A Voice from Old
Babylon and the Turkey—No Acquaintance with Thalos and Mr.
Plato—The Elder Gets “Sassy,” and Samantha Declares She Will
Appeal to her Uncle Samuel, who, though a little distracted
and run down by his domestic Troubles, Can and Will Stop
Mormonism—The Elder’s parting Shot, which Josiah Resents by an
Attack in the Rear—“A skairter Man never Lived” 397-469

A CRISIS WITH KELLUP.

Kitty Departs, and Kellup Calls to See her 5 Minutes
afterward—He is greatly Depressed—“Wimmen is what’s the
Matter”—He is sorry for Kitty, and says he will Write to
her—On Reflection he Authorizes Samantha to tell her he Will
Marry her whether or no, even if She is poor—Remembring
Sofier’s Fate, he “Dassent” do an Errand at Marier’s House—A
Visit from Cassandra and her young Babe—How Nathan Treated his
Heir—A mysterious Decree—Thrillin’ News—Kitty Smith Disappears
from the Scene—So Does Miss Smith the Elder—So Does Wart (the
Elder)—So Does Kellup and the Hearse—A pastoral
Scene—Samantha, Reclining by the Brook-side, Listens to a Bird
as he Sings and Swings; Watches the Sky and Golden-rod
Reflected in the Stream; Meditates on the Old and the New, the
Steadfast and the Changing; and Thinks how swift the Water is
a Runnin’ toward the Sea 470-490

THE PICTURES
MR. WILLIAMS HAS MADE.

PAGE
1. FRONTISPIECE (FULL PAGE)
2. “THE TEDIOUS EVENING WANED (FULL PAGE) 18
AWAY”
3. PORTRAIT OF THE WIDDER BUMP 24
4. AN IDEAL FAMILY (FULL PAGE) 28
5. MEASURED BY THE WIDDER 32
6. JOSIAH DREAMING 36
7. THOSE “AWFUL WORDS” (FULL PAGE) 40
8. A SOLEMN WARNING 42
9. JOSIAH’S DISAPPOINTMENT 47
10. KITTY SMITH (FULL PAGE) 54
11. KELLUP 59
12. THE WOMAN QUESTION 63
13. THE DESERTED 65
14. PAYING HER WAY 67
15. HOW JANE WAS ROPED IN (FULL PAGE) 69
16. THE DEATH-BLOW 71
17. A JUDGMENT SEAT 74
18. SWINGIN’ OUT 83
19. A COB(B) WITHOUT CORN (FULL PAGE) 85
20. KITTY’S KISS 87
21. JOSIAH FEELS NEAT 93
22. ARRIVAL OF THE SPINKSES 97
23. YOKED BUT NOT MATED (FULL PAGE) 100
24. JOSIAH NEIGHBORS 102
25. BORROWIN’ JOSIAH 106
26. SPINKS’ES COW—A NIGHT SCENE (FULL PAGE) 108
27. OUR HEN-DAIRY 110
28. JOSIAH’S VOW 117
29. DANGER AHEAD 118
30. THE NEW HEAD-DRESS 121
31. APPLE BLOSSOMS 123
32. HOW IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN 124
33. HARD AT IT 126
34. NATURE’S OCEAN BOUDOIR (FULL PAGE) 129
35. NATURE’S WORK 131
36. BABY PILLER CASE 135
37. FEELING CHRISTIAN 137
38. “BLESSINGS ON THEM ALL” (FULL PAGE) 141
39. A HEAVENLY MESSENGER 143
40. THE WREATHED SPEAR 145
41. A GUIDING HAND 150
42. “WHAT’S THE MATTER, JOSIAH?” 154
43. A POETICAL SIMELY (FULL PAGE) 158
44. JOSIAH’S IDEE 161
45. EARLY BIRDS 162
46. OUR BOARDERS (FULL PAGE) 165
47. A SURPRISED COLT 170
48. EXERCISING THE GOBBLER 172
49. A HEAVY BILL (FULL PAGE) 176
50. “SHUT THAT DOOR” 192
51. ARRIVAL OF MISS RICKERSON 196
52. KELLUP’S CONUNDRUM 202
53. NATHAN SPOONER 206
54. NATHAN SNICKERS 207
55. PUDDING AND MILK 209
56. THE FAMILY NIGHT-CAP (FULL PAGE) 211
57. “NATHAN SOT DOWN” 214
58. CASSANDRA’S MISFORTUNE (FULL PAGE) 217
59. BAD FOR NATHAN 222
60. FACE TO FACE 226
61. A MONUMENT OF MEN’S ECONOMY 233
62. ON THE RAGGED EDGE 236
63. UNDER THE MEETING-HOUSE SHED (FULL PAGE) 238
64. ROUTED OUT 246
65. “MURDER WILL OUT” 247
66. SAMANTHA’S DREAM (FULL PAGE) 249
67. FACING TROUBLE (FULL PAGE) 253
68. BOUND FOR THE ISLAND 255
69. ON THE BEACH 257
70. DISCOURAGED EXCURSIONIST (FULL PAGE) 260
71. A DESPERATE SITUATION 264
72. HOMEWARD BOUND (FULL PAGE) 267
73. THE END OF THE EXERTION 269
74. MOVING JOSIAH 271
75. DRESSED FOR THE OCCASION 274
76. A ROADSIDE VISIT (FULL PAGE) 279
77. A HAPPY HOME 281
78. LITTLE SAMANTHA JOE 283
79. JOSIAH STILL 286
80. THE ANNUAL TURNOUT (FULL PAGE) 289
81. MRS. SKIDMORE 292
82. KETURAH ALLEN 295
83. VIEW OF JONESVILLE (FULL PAGE) 300
84. “A PITIFUL SIGHT” (FULL PAGE) 306
85. KEEPIN’ UP HER END 309
86. MIDNIGHT AT A WATERING-PLACE (FULL PAGE) 312
87. WAIL OF WOE 314
88. QUAVERS AND SHAKES 316
89. DOIN’ THEIR LEVEL BEST 318
90. HOW JOSIAH WOULD PLAY POLO (FULL PAGE) 320
91. THE RESCUE 323
92. “IT TASTED AWFULLY” 324
93. A SAD SCENE 325
94. TIRZAH ANN FLIRTS WITH A MAN (FULL PAGE) 327
95. A PRESENT FOR BETSEY 331
96. FRIENDLY FEELIN’S 332
97. MEETING THE ELDER 355
98. A THREATNIN’ ATTITUDE 341
99. MISS BOBBET TELLS ABOUT JOSIAH (FULL PAGE) 344
100. “A RARITY TO ’EM” 348
101. BOBBET AND JOSIAH TALKIN’ 352
102. OLD TOIL’S BRIDE (FULL PAGE) 357
103. THE WILD-EYED WOMAN 363
104. NO ANSWER 367
105. E. WELLINGTON GANSEY 370
106. BURGLERS 379
107. THE GHOST 380
108. TAMER MOONEY 383
109. THE SERENADING PARTY 384
110. THE BRUISED JOSIAH 387
111. THE SERENADE (FULL PAGE) 390
112. “MANDANA! MANDANA!” 395
113. A STITCH IN THE BACK (FULL PAGE) 398
114. ELDER JUDAS WART 400
115. RESCUING THE ELDER 401
116. HOT WATER 407
117. “LESS ARGUE” (FULL PAGE) 409
118. MOUNTAIN MEADOWS 417
119. AN ANGEL OF PEACE 430
120. MR. AND MRS. PLATO 436
121. THE HINDOO MOTHER 441
122. A FALLEN ANGEL 443
123. THE OLD MAN 450
124. OUR DISTRACTED UNCLE 453
125. THE CALL TO DUTY (FULL PAGE) 455
126. HELPS FOR THE HEATHEN 457
127. JOSIAH ENDS THE ARGUMENT (FULL PAGE) 464
128. DEPARTURE OF THE ELDER 467
129. TAKIN’ A REEF 475
130. MARIER BURPEY 480
131. “DO YOU WANT A PAIR OF BOOTS?” 484
132. THRILLING NEWS (FULL PAGE) 486

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JOSIAH ALLEN GETS ASTRAY.

I have said, and said it calmly, that this is the curiousest world I ever see in my life. And I shan’t take it back. I hain’t one to whiffle round and dispute myself. I made the statement cool and firm, and shall stand by it. And truly if I never had said or thought anything of the kind, what I see with my own eyes last Friday night, and heard with my own ear before mornin’ dawned, would have convinced me that I was in the right on’t.

It’s happenin’ on a Friday, too, was strange as anything could be strange. It was on Friday that Mr. Columbus discovered the New World, and it was on a Friday (though some time after) that I discovered new regions in my pardner’s mind. Realms of mystery, full of strange inhabitents. That Christopher and me should both make such startlen and momentious discoveries on the same day of the week is a coincidence curious enough to scare anybody most to death.

Yes, this world is a curious place, very, and holler, holler as a drum. Lots of times the ground seems to lay smooth and serene under your rockin’ chair, when all the time a earthquake may be on the very p’int of busten’ it open and swollerin’ you up—chair and all. And your Josiah may be a-settin’ right on top of a volcano, unbeknown to you. But I am wanderin’ off into fields of poesy, and to resoom and proceed.

It was along the latter part of winter, pretty nigh spring, when my companion Josiah seemed to kinder get into the habit of going to Jonesville evenin’s. When I would beset him to go and get necessaries, groceries, and etcetery, he would say:

“Wall, I guess I’ll wait till evenin’, and then I’ll hitch up and go.”

He’d done it a number of times before I noticed it in particular, bein’ took up alterin’ over my brown alpacka, and bein’ short on’t for pieces and strained in my mind whether I would get out new backs without piecin’ ’em acrost the shoulder-blades. I don’t get much time to sew, bein’ held back by housework and rheumatiz, and the job had hung on, and wore on me powerfully, body and mind. Wall, every day or two he would make that curious remark, without my noticin’ of it (as it were):

“Wait till evenin’, and I’ll hitch up and go.”

And I wouldn’t say nothin’’, and he’d go, and wouldn’t get back till nine o’clock or after. Wall, as time went on, and my mind grew easier about my dress (I concluded to take the overskirt and make new backs and sleeves, and I got it cut foamin’, could have cut it profuse and lavish, if it had been my way), and my mind bein’ onstrained, and noticin’ things more, I thought it looked sort o’ peculier that Josiah should be so uncommon willin’ to go to the store evenin’s for necessaries and things, when he had always been such a case to stay to home nights; couldn’t get him out for the Doctor hardly. Collery morbeus couldn’t hardly start him, nor billerous colic.

It was on that Friday night after Josiah had started, that I, havin’ finished my dress, sot there a knittin’, and my mind bein’ sot free, it got to thinkin’ over things. Thinkin’ how I told him that mornin’ that the tea was a-runnin’ out, and I should have to have some that day, and he says:

“Wall, after supper I’ll hitch up and go.”

And I says to him sort o’ mechanically (for my mind was almost completely full of alpacka and waist patterns—I had concluded late the night before to take the overskirt):

“What has come over you, Josiah Allen? I couldn’t never use to get you out nights at all.”

He didn’t explain, nor nothin’, but says agin, in that same sort of a curious way, but firm:

“You make the tea last through the day, Samantha, and to-night I’ll hitch up and go.”

And then he beset me to have a chicken pie for dinner, and I, bein’ in such a hurry with my sewin’, didn’t feel like makin’ the effort, and he told me I _must_ make it, for he had had a revelation that I should.

Says I, “a revelation from who?”

And he says, “From the Lord.”

And I says, “I guess not.”

But he stuck to it that he had. And I finally told him, “that if it was from the Lord he would probable get it, and if it wuzn’t, if it wuz as I thought, a revelation from his stomach and appetite, he most probable wouldn’t get it.” And I kep’ on with my sewin’. I laid out to get a good, wholesome dinner, and did. But I couldn’t fuss to make that pie, in my hurry. His revelation didn’t amount to much. But it was curious his talkin’ so—awful curious.

I got to thinkin’ it all over agin as I sot there a-knittin’, and I felt strange. But little, little did I think what was goin’ on under my rockin’-chair, unbeknown to me.

About half past 7 Josiah Allen got home. I asked him what made him come so soon, and he said sunthin’, as he took off his overcoat, about there not bein’ no meetin’ that night, and sunthin’ about the Elder bein’ most sick. And I s’posed he meant conference meetin’, and I s’posed he meant Elder Bamber. But oh! if I had only known who that Elder was, and what them meetin’s was, if I had only known the slippery height and hollerness of the volcano Josiah Allen was a-sittin’ upon, unbeknown to me! But I didn’t know nothin’ about it, and so I sot there, calm and serene in my frame, for my mind bein’ onharnessed, as I may say, speakin’ in a poeticule way, from the cares it had been a-carryin’, I felt first rate. And so I sot there a-knittin’, and Josiah sot by the stove seemin’ly a-meditatin’. I thought likely as not, he was a-thinkin’ on religious subjects, and I wouldn’t have interupted him for the world. But pretty soon he spoke out sort ’o dreamily, and says he:

“How old should you take the Widder Bump to be, Samantha?”

“Oh, about my age, or a little older, probable,” says I. “What makes you ask?”

“Oh, nothin’,” says he, and he sort o’ went to whistlin’, and I went on with my knittin’. But anon, or mebby a little before anon, he spoke out agin, and says he:

“The Widder Bump is good lookin’ for a widder, hain’t she? And a crackin’ good cook. Sometimes,” says he in a pensive way, “sometimes I have almost thought she went ahead of you on nutcakes.”

Her nutcakes was pretty fair ones, and midelin’ good shaped, and I wuzn’t goin’ to deny it, and so I says:

“What of it, Josiah? What if she duz?”

There hain’t a envious hair in my head (nor many gray ones for a woman of my age, though I say it that shouldn’t). I hain’t the woman to run down another woman’s nutcakes. My principles are like brass, as has been often remarked. If a woman can make lighter nutcakes than I can (which, give me good flour and plenty of sour cream, and eggs, and other ingregiencies, I shall never believe they can)—why, if they can, runnin’ down their nutcakes don’t make mine any higher up. There is where folks make a mistake—they think that runnin’ other folks down lifts them higher up; but it don’t, not a inch.

So I kep’ on knittin’, cool as the heel of the sock I was knittin’ on. Pretty soon Josiah broke out agin:

“The Widder Bump hain’t got no relations, has she, Samantha, that would be a kinder hangin’ on, and livin’ on her, if she should take it into her head to marry agin?”

“I guess not,” says I. “But what makes you ask, Josiah?”

“Oh, nothin’, nothin’ in the world. I hadn’t no reason in askin’ it, not a single reason. I said it, Samantha,” says he, speakin’ in a sort of a excited, foolish way, “I said it jest to make talk.”

And agin he went to whistlin’, strange and curious whistles as I ever heard, and haulin’ a shingle out of the wood-box, he went to whittlin’ of it into as strange shapes as I ever see in my life. I looked at him pretty keen over my specks, for I thought things was goin’ on kinder curious. But I only says in a sort of a dry tone:

“I am glad you can think of sunthin’ to say, Josiah, if it hain’t nothin’ but widder. Howsumever,” says I, speakin’ in a encouragin’ tone, seein’ how dretful meachin’ he looked, and thinkin mebby I had been too hard on him, “Widder is better than no subject at all, Josiah, though I don’t call it a soarin’ one. But I can’t see,” says I, lookin’ at him uncommon keen over my specks, “I can’t see why you foller it up so awful close to-night. I can’t see why the Widder Bump is a-runnin’ through your mind to-night, Josiah Allen.”

“Oh! she hain’t! she hain’t!” says he, speakin’ up quick, but with that dretful meachin’ and sheepish look to him.

“I am a talkin’ about her, Samantha, jest to pass away time, jest to make myself agreeable to you.”

“Wall,” says I, in a dryer tone than I had hitherto used, “don’t exert yourself too hard, Josiah, to make yourself agreeable. You may strain your mind beyond its strength. I can stand it if you don’t say nothin’ more about the Widder Bump. And time,” says I, “I guess time will pass away quick enough without your takin’ such pains to hurry it along.”

And then I launched out nobly on that solemn theme. About time, the greatest of gifts; how it come to us God-given; how we ort to use it; how we held our arms out blindly, and could feel the priceless treasure laid in ’em, close to our hearts, unbeknown to us; and how all beyond ’em was like reachin’ em out into the darkness, into a awful lonesomeness and emptiness; how the hour of what we called time was the only thing on God’s earth that we could grip holt of; how it was every mite of a standin place we could lift the ladder on for our hopes and our yearnin’s, our immortal dreams to mount heavenward; how this place, the Present, was all the spot we could stand on, to reach out our arms toward God, and eternal safety, and no knowin’ how soon that would sink under us, drop down under our feet, and let us down into the realm of Shadows, the Mysterious, the Beyond. “And still,” says I, “how recklessly this priceless treasure is held by some; how folks talk about its bein’ too long, and try to get ways to make it go quicker, and some,” says I, dreamily, “some try to make it pass off quicker by talkin’ about widders.”

I don’t think I had been more eloquent in over five weeks, than I was in talkin’ upon that theme. I was very eloquent and lengthy, probable from ¼ to ½ an hour. I talked beautiful on it. A minister would have said so if he had heard me, and he would have been likely to thought highly of it, and my gestures, for the waves that I waved outwards with my right hand was impressive, and very graceful. I held the sock in my right hand, as I waved it out; it was a good color, and it floated out some like a banner. I felt well, and acted well, and I knew it. And I thought at the time that Josiah knew it, and was proud of me, and felt more affectionate to me than his common run of feelin’s towards me wuz, for most the minute I got through episodin’, he broke out, and says he:

“Don’t you think you are a workin’ too hard, Samantha? Don’t you think it would be easier for you if you had some woman here a livin’ to help you? And,” says he, dreamily, “she might be a fryin’ the nutcakes while you was a brilin’ the beef-steak, and cookin’ other provisions.”

I was exceedingly affected by his tender feelin’s towards me, (as I supposed,) and says I, in affectionate axents:

“No, I can get along, Josiah.”

But oh! if I had known! If I had known what thoughts was a runnin’ through his mind, how different my axent would have been. My axent would have been so cold it would have froze him stiffer’n a mushrat, jest one axent would, it would have had that deadly icyness to it. Blind bein’ that I was, a speakin’ tender and soft to him, and knittin’ on his heel, (a double stitch, too, to make it firmer,) and he a settin’ of his own accord up on top of that volcano that was ready to bust right out, and burn up all my happiness, and swaller down and engulf my Josiah. What feelin’s I felt as I thought it all over afterwards.

Wall, I sot there a knittin’ on his heel, and occasionally makin’ eloquent and flowery speeches, and he, from time to time, a speakin out sudden and sort o’ promiscous, a praisin’ up the Widder Bump, and sort o’ mixin’ her up with religion, and seals, and revelations, and things, and anon, when I would take him to do about it, a whistlin’, and whittlin’ shingles into curious and foolish shapes, curiouser than I ever remembered to see him whittle, and whistlin’ more sort o’ vacant and excentrick whistles than I ever remembered hearin’ him whistle—dretful loud whistles, some of ’em, and then dwindlin’ down sudden and unexpected into low and dwindlin’ ones. And I a wonderin’ at it, and thinkin’ things was a goin’ on strange and curious. And then anon, or about that time, or anyway, as soon as I would have time to meditate on men’s curious and foolish demeanors at times—why I would give up that it was one of their ways, and he would get over it, knowin’ that they mostly did get over ’em.

And so the long, tejus evenin’ waned away. And Josiah locked the doors, and wound up the clock, and greased his boots, and went to bed. But oh! little did I know all the while he was a windin’ and a greasin’, and I a knittin’, and the carpet seemed to lay smooth and straight under us, all the time a earthquake was a rumblin’, and, to use a poetical and figurative expression, a snortin’ down under us, unbeknown to me.

Wall, that night my pardner, Josiah Allen, at two different times, once about midnight, and once about the time the roosters crowed—at two separate times, which I am ready to testify and make oath to, he spoke right out in his sleep, and says:

“Widder Bump!”

And that is the livin’ truth, and I have always been called truthful, and don’t expect to take up lyin’ now, at my age. How many more times he said it, while I was a sleepin’ peacefully by his side, I can’t say. But them two times I heard and counted, and my feelin’s as I lay there and heard them awful words can’t never be told nor sung; no, a tune can’t be made curious enough to sing ’em in.

Then I gin up, fully gin up, that sunthin’ was wrong. That a great mystery was hangin’ over my Josiah and the widder, or to one of ’em, or to somebody, or to sunthin’.

Oh the feelin’s that I felt, as I lay there and heard them words. I wuzn’t jealous that I will contend for; but what words them was for a affectionate, lovin’ pardner to hear from the lips of a sleepin’ Josiah.

“Widder Bump!”

I was not jealous. I would scorn to be. There wuzn’t a jealous hair in my foretop, and I knew it, or my back hair. And I knew I was better lookin’ than the widder, though she was wholesome lookin’.

She was the widder of Sampson Bump; he died with collery morbeus, and she moved to Jonesville and set up a tailoress shop, and had been called likely. Though the wimmen of Jonesville had gi’n in that their husbands never had so many clothes made in the same length of time, and a good many of the men had got scolded considerable by their wives for runnin’ through with their property, and goin’ so deep into their store-clothes. But the men had all gi’n in that ready-made clothes ripped so it was a perfect moth to buy ’em, and it was fur cheaper to hire ’em made by hand. And Josiah had started up about the middle of winter, and wanted to have her measure him for a vest, and get a new overcoat made. Josiah Allen didn’t need no vest, and I put my foot right down on it. But I had her come to the house and make the overcoat, and while she was there I run a splinter under my finger-nail, and was disabled, and I kep’ her a week to do housework.

As I say, she had always been called likely, though she seemed to be sort o’ shaky and tottlin’ in her religion. She had been most everything sense she come to Jonesville, not quite 2 years. She jined the Methodists first, then the ’Piscopals, then the Universalers, and then the Camelites. And I s’posed at this present time she was a Camel. I had hearn’ talk that she was a leanin’ towards the Mormons, but I had always made a practice of disputin’ of it, knowin’ how hard it was for good lookin’ wimmen to get along without bein’ slandered by other wimmen. I always dispised such littleness, and so I had come out openly and stood up for her, and called her a Camel. But I learnt a lesson in this very affair. I learnt to be more mejum than I had been, and I thought I knew every crook and turn in mejumness, I had always been such a master hand for it. But in dispisin’ littleness and jealousy in other wimmen, and tryin’ to rise above it, I had riz too fur. _She wuzn’t a Camel!_ And while the other wimmen had been spiteful and envious, I had been a lyin’—though entirely unbeknown to me, and I don’t s’pose I shall ever be hurt for it.

As I have said, and proved, I wuzn’t jealous, but oh, what groans I groaned, as I heard for the second time them fearful words from the lips of my pardner—“Widder Bump!”

It was awful dark in the room, perfectly dark, but darker fur in the inside of my mind, and gloomier. How I did groan, and turn over agin and groan. And then I’d try to look on the bright side of things, right there in the dark. Thinkses I, I know I am better lookin’ than she is, and would be called so by good judges. To be sure, her heft was in her favor; her heft was a little less than mine, mebby 100 pounds or so, and she could most probable get around spryer, and act more frisky. But thinkses I, when a man loves a woman devotedly, when he carrys her in his heart, what is a few pounds more or less? Thinkses I, a hundred pounds hain’t more than a ounce to him under the circumstances; he don’t sense it at all. So I’d try my best to look on the bright side, (right there in the dark,) and I’d say to myself, my Josiah’s affections are sound, they are wrapped completely round me. And then I’d look on the dark side, and think how I had hearn that men’s affections was loose and stretchy, some like the injy rubber ribbins you get to put round papers. How it will set tight round one, and hold it seemin’ly so close that there don’t seem to be room for another single one, and then how easy it will stretch out and hold tight round another one—and another one—and et cetery—and et cetery. Seemin’ to set jest as easy round the last ones, and hold ’em jest as tight and comfortable as the first one. And then I’d groan, and turn over agin and groan. And once my groan (it was a louder one than my common run of groans, and deeper,) it waked Josiah Allen right up out of a sound sleep, and he was skairt, and riz right up in the end of the bed, and says he, in tones tremblin’ with emotion and excitement:

“What is the matter, Samantha?”

And I never let on what ailed me, but told him in tones that I tried to make calm and even, (and as lofty as I could when I knew I was talkin in a parable way) that it was a pain that was a goarin’ of me. I didn’t lie. I wuz in pain, but I didn’t feel obleeged to explain the parable to him, and tell him where the pain wuz. I didn’t tell him it was in my heart. And he thought it was in my shoulder-blades; he thought it was the rheumatiz. And he wanted to know, in affectionate tones, “if he shouldn’t rub my back, or if he shouldn’t get me the spirits of turpentine, or the camfire?”

But I told him no. I knew that turpentine was a master hand to strike in, but it couldn’t never go down deep enough to strike at the feelin’s I felt—and camfire never was made strong enough to ease off a wounded spirit, or bathe it down.

But I held firm, and didn’t say nothin’. And Josiah lay down agin, and in ½ a minute’s time was fast asleep, and a dreamin’. What was his dream? Into what land was his mind a journeyin’? And who was his companion? _Was it Widder Bump?_ At that fearful thought it seemed as if I should expier. I dassent groan for fear of roustin’ up my pardner, and so I had to stand it with sithin’. Sithes wouldn’t wake him up. And oh! what fearful and tremenjous sithes I sithed for the next several moments. I hain’t afraid to bet that the best judge of sithes that ever lived would have said that he never heard any that went ahead of these, nor see deeper ones, or more melancholy. Why my feelin’s was dreadful, and can’t be described upon. There it was, dark as pitch. It was jest before daylight, when it is the darkest time in the hull night. And there my companion wuz. Where wuz he? I couldn’t tell, nor nobody. His body lay there by my side. But the real Josiah, where wuz he? And who was with him where he wuz? Oh! what feelin’s I felt! what sithes I sithed!

What blind creeters we are, anyway. Our affections reach out like a wild grape-vine, layin’ hold of sunthin’, or somebody, a twistin’ and a clingin’, till death on-clinches of ’em, jest as foolish, jest as blindly. Human love is strong, but blinder than a mole.

How is that grape-vine to know what it is a clingin’ to? Blind instinct moves it to lay holt of sunthin’, and hang on till it is tore away, or sot fire to, or wrenched off by some power outside of itself, and killed, and destroyed. But how can it tell whether it is clingin’ round a live oak or a bean-pole? Round sunthin’ that is sound to the core, or holler as a pipes-tail? Round sunthin’ that will draw it along the ground, draggin’ it through mud and mire into a perfect swamp hole and bog, soilin’ its bright leaves, dwarfin’ its free growth, poisenin’ it with dark and evil shadows? Or whether it will draw it up towards the clear heavens and the sunlight, and hold it up there by its strength—a happy vine, growin’ fresh and bright, sendin’ out blessed tendrils touchin’ nothin’ less pure than God’s own sweet atmosphire.

Now I worshipped that man, Josiah Allen. And I thought he loved the very ground I walked on as devotedly as I did hisen. I thought I knew every crook and turn in that man’s mind. And now, after livin’ together over 20 years, that man had done what he had done; talked the hull evenin’ long about a certain widder, and even in his sleep had uttered them fearful and agonizin’ words—“Widder Bump!”

And there I was, a strong woman in every way—strong in intellect and principles, strong in my love for him, strong in my heft. And here I was, powerless as a rag-babe. No more strength nor knowledge in the matter than the rag-babe would have. No more power in my hand to lift up the veil of mystery that was hangin’ round my Josiah than there would be in the babe’s, not a mite. Josiah’s mind wasn’t the strongest mind in the world—I had always known that, and had made a practice of remindin’ him of it frequent, when I see it would be for his good. But now, now there wuzn’t a intellect powerful enough on the face of the earth to foller it up and overthrow it. Out of the reach of friend or foe; beyond perswasion, ridicule, reasonin’, or entreaty; out of the reach of me, his Samantha. He had gone off a travelin’ without no change of clothin’, or railroad tickets. Settin’ off on a journey, unshackled by pardners, bundles, and umberells. A soarin’ free and calm through that wonderful land. The ring on my finger held him before earthly courts and constables, but there he was a wanderin’, a free Josiah. Was I a wanderin’ with him? Did his soul reach out to me from that realm—hold to me so close as to draw my spirit to his adown them shadowy streets, into them mysterious homes, over whose silent threshold no curious foot may pass? Was his lawful pardner with him there, where she should be? Was his thought loyal to me, where there was no law, no influence, or constraint to make him constant—or was he a cuttin’ up and a actin’, flirtin’ in spirit with the phantom thought of a Widder Bump? Here I would sithe powerful, and turn over agin, and sithe.

And so the tejus night passed away. But one great determination I made there in them fearful moments of darkness and mystery, one powerful resolve I made, and determined to keep: I would hold firm. And never let my pardner know I was a mistrustin’ anything. But every minute of the time, day and night, I would keep the eye of my spectacles open, and try to find out what was a goin’ on. But little, little did I think what it was that was a goin’ on. Little did I realize the size and heft of the earthquake that was a rumblin’ and a roarin’ under that feather-bed unbeknown to me. But more of this hereafter and anon.

The next mornin’ sunthin’ happened to me that, comin’ as it did jest at this curious and tryin’ time, was enough to scare anybody most to death. I had a sign; a mysterious warnin’. I happened to take up the last _World_ while my dish-water was a heatin’, and the very first words the eye of my spectacles fell on—right there in broad daylight—entirely unexpected to me, I read these awful words:

A meetin’-house steeple had fell flat down the day before—fell right down into a man’s door-yard, sudden and unexpected, broke a hen-coop and five lengths of fence, and skairt ’em most to death. They thought, them folks did, that that steeple stood firm and sound. They never mistrusted it was a tottlin’. And it had stood straight and firm for year after year, probable for over 20 years. But there come along a gust of wind too strong for it, and over it went right into their door-yard; its lofty head was bowed into the dust, the hen-coop and fence was squshed down forever, and they was skairt.

I don’t believe too much in signs and wonderments, yet I don’t s’pose a man or a woman lives who hain’t got a little streak of superstition and curiousness in ’em. I s’pose livin’ as we do with another world that we don’t know nothin’ about pressin’ so close about us on every side, livin’ in such curious circumstances makes us feel sort o’ curious.

Some as Miss Arden felt, the one that Mr. Tennyson wrote about, she that was Ann Lee. When her husband Enock got lost she wouldn’t gin up that he was dead, and marry to another man, till she opened the Bible and looked for a sign. I have heard Thomas J. read it so much that Ann seems near to me, almost like one of the Smiths. But though Ann did find a sign, and was mistaken in it, or didn’t give it the right meanin’, I was determined to read mine right. I felt a feelin’ in my bones that them words was meant to me for a warnin; was gin to me as a sign to meditate on. If a meetin’ house steeple could tottle, my Josiah’s morals was liable to tottle; if that steeple fell right down flat into a man’s door-yard, breakin’ down and squshin’ what it had broke down and squshed, my Josiah was liable to fall flat down in a moral way, and sqush down all my earthly comfort and happiness; and I felt a feelin’ that if I would save him I must be up and a doin’.

Now if them folks had mistrusted that that steeple was gettin’ shaky, they could have tied it up, mebby, and kep’ it straight. And I was determined that if tyin’ up, or anything of that sort, would keep my Josiah up, he should be tied. I am speakin’ poetically, and would wish to be so understood. Ropes was not in my mind, neither tow strings.

And then as I come to think things over, and look at the subject on every side, as my way is, I felt a feelin’ that I hadn’t done as I ort. My mind had been on a perfect strain for 2 weeks on that alpacka dress, and I hadn’t kep’ watch of my pardner as pardners ort to be watched over. Men are considerable likely critters, but they are sort o’ frisky in their minds, onstiddy, waverin’ kinder. They need a stiddy bit, and a firm martingill, to drive ’em along straight in the married life, and keep their minds and affections stabled and firm sot onto their lawful pardners. I have said that there wasn’t a jealous hair in my head, not a hair. But filosify and deep reasonin’ has learnt me severe and deep lessons. Even after the fearful night I had passed, the awful words I had listened to from the lips of a sleepin’ Josiah, still filosify whispered to me that my pardner was as good as the common run of men, and I, in strainin’ my mind on store-clothes, had neglected things of far more importance; I had neglected lookin’ after my companion as men ort to be looked after. The cat, to use a poetical and figurative expression, had been away, and the mouse had gone to playin’. Or, to bring poesy down to prose, and to common comprehension, the cat had been fixin’ over a brown alpacka dress, and the mouse had got to follerin’ up a Widder Bump in his mind.

I believe when the man goes to cuttin’ up and actin’, if the female pardner, upheld by principle, would take a microscope and look over her past, she would more’n as likely as not come bunt up against some fault of her own, some neglect, some carelessness, some things she had done that she ortn’t to done, or some things she hadn’t done that she ort. She could trace back their cuttin’s up and actin’s to some little unguarded moments, when through hurry, or carelessness, or neglect, she had let the lines and martingills of tenderness and watchfulness drop out of her hand, and had let her pardner go a caperin’ off with nothin’ but a halter on, a prancin’ up and down society like a 3-year old colt that hadn’t had a bittin’ rig on. Pardners have got to be humored. They have got to be made comfortable and happy in their own homes; their companions has got to make themselves attractive to ’em, or they won’t be attracted. Viniger won’t draw flies worth a cent. And pardners _have got_ to be _watched_; for this is the law and the profit.

They have got to be reined up to the post of duty, and hitched there. They are naturally balky, and love to shy off side-ways, and there haint no use denyin’ of it.

I tell you, I had deep thoughts that day as I went round the house a doin’ up my work; awful deep ones, and a sight of ’em, probable as many as 2 dozen a minute right along through the day; some solemn and affectin’ ones, about as solemn as they make, and some more hopeful like, and chirk. I tell you, my mind got fairly tuckered out by the middle of the afternoon.

But with Samantha, regret, repentance, and reformation foller right straight on after each other, jest like 3 horses hitched in front of each other drawin’ a heavy load. I see there was a duty in front of me to tackle; I see that I must not let Josiah Allen go off to Jonesville another night without his pardner. I must leave cares and store-clothes in the back-ground, and come out nobly, and make my home and myself agreeable to my pardner, and keep a keen and vigilant eye onto his proceedin’s and goin’s on.

So that evenin’ along towards night, when he spoke out in that same sort o’ strange and curious way about Jonesville, and that “after supper he guessed he’d hitch up and go.”

Then it was that I spoke up mild and firm as my soap-stun, and said, “I guessed I’d go, too.” He looked brow-beat and stunted by my remark, and says he: “I am most afraid to have you go out in such muggy weather, Samantha. I don’t believe you realize how muggy it is.”

Says I, in a brave, noble tone: “It hain’t no muggier for me than it is for you, Josiah Allen, and if you go, I go, too.”