Part 19
“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.
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.
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.