Part 22
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.
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.
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.