Part 26
“Well,” says I, “I can recommend it to her, and I haint the only one. If she has any doubts of its bein’ good, let her go right to Miss Archibald Gowdey and she’ll convince her.” Says I, “Miss Gowdey told me with her own mouth that her brother’s wife’s grandmother was bed rid with lameness and she took arneky and wormwood, half and half, and steeped ’em up in vinegar, and put in one or two red peppers to git up a circulation on the outside, and took boneset and yarrer on the inside, and in three weeks time she felt like a new critter—could have waltzed if it wasn’t for her principles (she was a Methodist and wouldn’t be catched at it.) And I believe my soul if Miss Pedro should try it she would feel the good effects of it. And you tell her from me that if she haint brought up any herbs with her, or got any good vinegar by her, I’ll furnish her in welcome and it shant cost her a cent. I have got a piller case full of yarrer, and other herbs accordin’, and as good a hogset of vinegar as ever made its own mother.”
He felt well, Mr. Pedro did. He kinder laughed with his eyes, he took it so well in me, and he said he’d “mention it to the Empress.”
“Well,” says I, “so do; she needn’t be a mite afraid of takin’ the boneset and yarrer, for we have used ’em in our own family. My Josiah is kinder spindlin’, springs and falls, and I give it to him.” Says I, “Josiah looked so bad when he began to take it last fall that I was awful afraid I shouldn’t winter him through. He looked like a bean pole.”
All of a sudden, jest as I said bean pole, a thought came to me that mortified me awfully. Comin’ off so sudden as I had from his Theresy’s sickness onto my Josiah’s, bewailin’ their two feeblenesses as I had, and dwellin’ so on their two enjoyments of poor health, I didn’t know but he would think I was a actin’ some like Hamlet’s ghost, I have heerd Thomas J. read about, “Movin’ on towards a design.”
And I wouldn’t have him think so for the world, or git any false idees or false hopes and expectations into his head. Mr. Pedro is a sensible, smart, good-hearted feller; we are both literary, and investigatin’, and our minds are congenial, very. But if my Josiah should die off, I never should marry again, never. Life nor death can’t part two souls that are bound completely up in each other. No, when the clay that wraps them two souls round drops away from one of ’em, it only makes ’em nearer to each other. And so in the name of Principle I mildly but firmly sort o’ changed the conversation, and told him “Be sure and give my best respects to Miss Pedro, and tell her not to feel hurt at all if I don’t call on her while we are here to the village, for we can’t stay more than three days longer anyway, for we have got a settin’ hen that must be seen to, and other important business that calls us home. And we have got sights and sights of things to see before we go, and so have you I know; so I wont detain you another minute, though I’d love to visit with you longer.” And then I curchied again the best I knew how, and he bowed very pleasant and agreeable. I went and set down again for a few moments and Mr. Pedro walked round the room a little more, a lookin’ at the pictures and talkin’ with some of his mates, and they’d look at me every little while, dretful smilin’. They felt friendly to me I know, I had appeared well, I knew it and they knew it. There was a woman amongst ’em that a bystander standin’ by me said was the Empress. But I knew better; I knew if it had been his wife, Mr. Pedro would have made me acquainted with her, and been glad of the chance.
I did not see Josiah when I entered into the Department of Public Comfort. But there were enough there to be sociable; you wouldn’t be apt to feel lonesome. Never! never was I so nearly crushed, never did I see such a crowd; our faces were all red, our bodies wet with perspiration and sweat; I can compare our situation to nothin’ but red rossberrys when you make jam of ’em. It was truly a tegus time. And I sithed out to myself several times, “Is this a Department of Comfort Samantha? Tell me Josiah Allen’s wife is this Comfort, or what is it?” I would thus question myself almost wildly as I made nearly frantic efforts to keep my breath in my body, and my body hull and sound on the outside of my breath. Finally, I got kinder wedged in so my back was to the wall, and I began to breath easier, and feel happy. But little as I thought it, a worse trial was in front of me.
There was a tall sepulchral lookin’ chap standin’ right by the side of me, and I s’pose seein’ I had such a friendly and noble mean on me, he began to talk with me about the Sentinal and so 4th. And finally puttin’ on a kind of a confidential, but important look, he says:
“Keep your composure mom, and don’t be afraid of me, I am a lecturer mom.”
He see by my mean that I wasn’t skairt, and he went on and continued:
“Yes, I am a lecturer on spiritualism,” and says he, “Do you believe in spirits mom?”
“Yes,” says I “some.” And I added in a cautious tone for I didn’t like his looks a mite. “What spirits do you mean, and how many?”
“Why spirits,” says he, “common spirits.”
“Well” says I “I believe in the spirit of true Christianity, and the spirit of the age, and on bein’ in good spirits all you can, and when you see meanness a goin’ on, in bein’ sort o’ proud spirited; and I believe in spirits of turpentine, and—”
But he interrupted of me. “I see Madam you are ignorant of our glorious spirit manifestations. Oh what a time we had last night.”
“What did they manifest,” says I calmly, “and how many?”
“Why,” says he, “Elizabeth Browning tipped the table over nobly last night. I never see Elizabeth do better. She would catch our hats off, and grab hold of our hands; I tell you Lib was lively last night. And George Washington! I never see George git friskier than he did. He would ontie us, jest as fast as anybody would tie us up; George would.”
“Well,” says I calmly, “the Bible says ‘we shall be changed,’ and truly I should think as much, though I can’t say as the change would be for the better if George Washington haint found no better employment for his immortal soul than ontyin’ tow strings. And truly the change in Mrs. Browning is great, if she feels like catchin’ off men’s hats, and grabbin’ holt of their hands, and foolin’ round.”
Says he rollin up his eyes: “That unseen world, the land we come from so lately and will return to so soon, is very near to us; it is all round and about us; only a breath divides us from it. Who dare deny that we get tidings from it? Who dare deny that voices of warning, or greeting comes to us, exiles from that true fatherland, home of the soul?”
He was nearly eloquent, and says I in reasonable axents, “I haint denied it, only it seems to me that anything so sweet and solemn and holy would be revealed to us in some other way than through the legs of a pine table. It does seem to me that He who rides on the whirlwind and the clouds, and who has the winds and waves for His messengers, wouldn’t find it necessary to tie a man up in a little bass-wood box in order to reveal His will to us. Howsumever, I don’t say it haint so, I only tell my own idees; other folks have a right to theirn. But I told him I guessed I would be excused from goin’ to see the spirits perform, as I didn’t seem to have no drawins that way.”
He acted surly, but I didn’t care a mite; and jest that minute I see my pardner a tryin’ to enter into the abode of Comfort. I will not try to paint my agony nor hisen, on our way to each other, and on our way out. Josiah groaned out that he had had enough Comfort to last him the hull of a long life; and I groaned back again that a very little more Comfort would have been the death of me. But we got out alive, which we felt was indeed a blessin’.
VARIOUS MATTERS.
The next day was Sunday, and if it hadn’t been we couldn’t have gone anywhere. We was sick critters, me and Josiah both; a sort of a Collery Morbeus. Some called it the Sentinal gripe. It was very fashionable to have it, though that didn’t make a mite of difference with Josiah or me; we don’t foller up the fashion so close as some do. Fashion or no fashion, it wasn’t nothin’ we wanted. Josiah felt better towards night, and went out for a little walk, and when he come back, says he:
“The ‘Creation Searchers’ got into a real scrape last night; was took up for vagrants and shet up in the Station House, the hull ten on ’em.”
“How you talk!” says I.
“Yes, I met Sam Snyder jest now and he told me all about it. You see their spectacles blinded ’em so, not bein’ used to ’em, that they got to wanderin’ off, and got lost and couldn’t find the way back, till it got most midnight, and the policemen took ’em up, thinkin’ they was either crazy or fools. It seems they’d all stand in a row, and tell him they was ‘Creation Searchers,’ thinkin’ it would scare him; and he’d holler back to ’em, that he’d ‘Creation Search’ ’em, if they didn’t move on. And then they’d tell him they was ‘World Investigators;’ and he’d tell ’em he’d ‘investigate’ ’em with a club if they didn’t start along. Then they’d try to scare him again. They would all stand still and tell him they was ‘takin’ moments of the Sentinal, and collectin’ information;’ and he’d sass ’em right back, that he’d help ’em to ‘information;’ and then he’d kick ’em. I s’pose they had a awful time, but he got help and shet ’em up.”
[Sidenote: THE “CREATION SEARCHERS” AT THE SENTINAL]
Says I firmly,—“Them spectacles will be the ruination of ’em, Josiah.”
“I know it,” says he, “but they have got a reputation to keep up, and will wear ’em.”
The next mornin’, feelin’ sort o’ weak and mauger, we thought we would ride to the Sentinal; and jest as we stepped out into the street, a man from the Grand Imposition Hotel hailed a big covered wagon, and it stopped and he got in. It was jest as full as it could be, seeminly; but the driver said there was “sights of room,” so we got in.
I thought I had seen close times, and tight times, in days that was past and gone, but I found that I knew nothin’ about the words. Why, a tower two miles in length, like that, would have been my last tower. It wasn’t so much that I hadn’t a mite of room, and stood on nothin’, and was squeezed to that extent that a corset was as unnecessary as blinders on a blind man; but I expected the ruff would come onto me every minute, such a tramplin’ round on it. And there I was with my arms pinned to my sides as close as if I was broke in to and they was bandaged to me for splinters. Oh! the tegusness of that time! And my pardner, another mummy by my side, a sweatin’ more prespiration than I would have thought possible, and couldn’t git his hands to his face, to save him; and we a groanin’, and more men a clamberin’ up on the outside, and hangin’ on with one hand, and more wimmen dragged up to suffer on the inside. Oh, never! never! did 10 cents buy such a terrible amount of bodily and mental agony as that 10 cents did.
[Sidenote: MACHINERY HALL]
But it passed away (the wagon) as all other sufferin’ will, if you give it time. The little turnin’ stile creaked round with us, and we started straight for Machinery Hall, for Josiah said he fairly hankered after seein’ the big “Careless Enjun,” and the great “Corrupt Gun.” The minute we entered into that buildin’ we had sunthin’ to think about.
We went through the three avenues. Josiah thought they was forty miles in length, each one of ’em. I, myself, don’t believe they was, though they was very, very lengthy, and piled completely full of usefulness, beauty and distraction. Every trade in the known world a goin right on there before our face and eyes, and we a walkin’ along a seein’ of ’em:—jewelers a jewelin’; rubber shoemakers a rubbin’; weavers, of all sorts and kinds, a weavin’; and bobbins a bobbin’; rock-crushers a crushin’; fanners a fannin’; lacers a lacin’; silk-worms a silkin’; butterfly-makers a butterflyin’; paper-makers a paperin’; printers, of all kinds, a printin’; and gas-makers a gassin’; elevators a elevatin’; steamers a steamin’; and pumpers a pumpin’; sewin’ machines a sewin’; braiders a braidin’; and curlers a curlin’; rollers a rollin’; and gymnastickers a gymnastickin’; wrenchers a wrenchin’; chucks a chuckin’; drills a drillin’ and gaugers a gaugin’; railroad signals, and frogs; switches a switchin’; bridges; railroads; steamships; threshin’ machines, all in full blast; and cataracks a catarackin’; and if there was anything else in the known world that wasn’t a goin’ on there, I would love to have somebody mention it.
The noise was truly distractin’; but if anybody could stand the wear and tear of their brains and ears, it was one of the most instructive and interestin’ places the world ever afforded to man or woman. Why, if there hadn’t been another thing in the hull buildin’, that great “Careless Enjun” alone, was enough to run anybody’s idees up into majestic heights and run ’em round and round into lofty circles and spears of thought, they hadn’t never thought of runnin’ into before. And there was everything else under the sun to see, and we see it; and everything under the sun to hear, and we heerd it. Though I can’t be expected to describe upon it, for I had to keep such a eye onto myself to keep myself collected together. Why, the noise of my sewin’ machine will make my head ache so sometimes, that I can’t stand it; and then think of takin’ the noise of seventy or eighty thunder-claps, and a span of big earthquakes, and forty or fifty sewin’ societies (run by wimmen), and all the threshin’ machines you can think of, and fifty or sixty big droves of lions and hyena’s a roarin’, and the same number of strong, healthy infants, under the influence of colic, and several hundred political meetin’s and deestrick schools jest let out, and several Niagara Falls; take the noise of all these put together and they don’t give you any jest idee of the noise and distraction.
Why, there was such a awful buzz and clatter of machinery; big wheels a turnin’ little wheels, and little wheels a turnin’ big ones, and all a buzzin’; such a glitterin’ of glass and gildin’ and colors of all kinds, and a swarmin’ of folks and chatterin’ of voices, and rustlin’ of dresses, and thumpin’ of canes, stampin’ of shoes and runnin’ of childern, and flutterin’ of ribbins, and wavin’ of hands, and bowin’ of heads; that though beauty and instruction was on every side of me and I knew it, yet I couldn’t take a realizin’ sense of it. I had to keep askin’ myself every few moments:—“Josiah Allen’s wife, is it you? tell me frankly, whether it is or not; or is it some of the relation on your mother’s side? or be you Josiah? or who be you?”
Jest as I was a thinkin’ this, who should I meet face to face but Cousin Bean, and says she: “Have you seen the mummy from Egypt, three thousand years old?”
“Mummy who?” says I.
Says she,—“It is a Egyptian woman, a princess; she is dead,” says she.
Says I,—“I thought so, from her age.”
“She is embalmed,” says Cousin Bean.
“What kind of balm?” says I, coolly.
She said she nor nobody else knew exactly what kind of balm it was; she said it had got lost thousands of years ago; covered up with the dust of centuries.
I asked her if she knew whether she was any relation of Sphynx; comin’ from the same neighborhood, I didn’t know but she might be.
She said she believed she was.
“Well,” says I, “I’ll go and see her then, for old Sphynx is a woman I have always respected;” says I in a noble tone, “_there_ is a woman who has minded her own business, and kep’ her own secrets for thousands of years. Some say that a woman can’t keep anything to herself for any length of time, and if she has got a secret, has got to git some other woman to help her keep it. But there _she_ has stood and seen the old things become new, and the new, old; the sun of knowledge go down, and the night of barbarism sweep its black shadders over her, and the sun rise up on her again, each one takin’ thousands of years, and she a mindin’ her own business, and keepin’ her affairs to herself through it all; foolin’ the hull world, and not smilin’ at it; nations runnin’ crazy with new idees, and risin’ up and crashin’ down on each other every few hundred years, and she lookin’ on with the calmness and patience of eternity wrote down on her forward. It does me good to see one of my own sect stand so firm.”
So we sot off to see it; Josiah sayin’ he would meet us at noon, down by the Japan House.
My first thought on seein’ it was, “I don’t believe you was hung for your beauty, or would be, if you had lived another three thousand years,” but then my very next thought was, “folks may look sort o’ contemptuous at you, and, in the pride and glory of their butterfly existence, pass you by in a hauty way; but if your still lips could open once, they would shake the hull world with your knowledge of the mysterious past and the still more mysterious future, whose secrets you understand.” And then (unbeknown to me) I reveried a little: thinks’es I, what scenes did them eyes look upon the last time they was opened in this world? What was the last words she heerd,—the last face that bent over her? And what strange and beautiful landscape is it that is spread out before her now? What faces does she see? What voices does she hear? I had quite a number of emotions while I stood there a reverin’—probable as many as twenty or thirty.
But about this time Cousin Bean says she: “Did you see Queen Victoria’s pictures, that she has lent?”
I turned right round and faced her, and says I, in agitated tones,—“You don’t tell me, Miss Bean, that the Widder Albert has got some pictures of her own, here, that she has lent to the Sentinal?”
“Yes,” says she, “she has got three or four, in the English Department of the Art Gallery.”
I turned right round and started for the Artemus Gallery, for I see I had missed ’em the day before, and after I had got into the English Department, a good woman pinted ’em all out to me, at my request.
The first one I looked at, thinks’es I,—how curious that the Widder Albert should send a paintin’ here, picturin’ all out what I had thought about ever sense I had thought at all. Thinks’es I, I most know she has heerd how I always felt about it, and sent it over a purpose to accommodate me. It was the “Death of Wolfe.” Oh! how often I had heerd Josiah sing (or what he called singin’) about it; how
“Brave Wolfe drew up his men In a line so pretty, On the field of Abraham, Before the city.”
That was when we was first married, and he wantin’ to treat me first-rate would set and sing to me evenins, (or what he called singin’) till he was hoarse as a owl, about “Lovely Sophronia Sleeps in Death,” and “Lady Washington’s Lament,” and “Brave Wolfe.” And I, bein’ jest married, and naturally feelin’ kind o’ sentimental and curious, would set and cry onto my handkerchief till it was wet as sop.
Then there was the Widder Albert, herself, dressed up slicker than I ever was, or ever shall be; but I was glad to see it. There haint a envious hair in my head; if there was, I would pull it out by the roots, if I had to take the pinchers to it. It wouldn’t have hurt my feelins if she had been dressed in pure gold, from head to foot. Store clothes can’t be made too good for that woman.
[Sidenote: THE MARQUIS OF LORNE]
But what was about as interestin’ to me, as any of ’em, was the weddin’ of the Widder Albert’s oldest boy, Albert Wales. It was a noble, large picture. There they stood before the minister, as natteral as life; and lots of the most elegant dressed folks of both sects, and officers dressed in uniform, a standin’ all round ’em; and the Widder’s benign face a lookin’ down on ’em like a benediction.
I see there was a man a standin’ by this picture, keepin’ his eye on it all the time, and a woman in front of me said to another one:
“He stands there a watchin’ the Queen’s pictures all the time, don’t he?”
“Yes,” says the other one, “so afraid they will git injured in some way.”
Before I could say a word to ’em, they sailed off out of the room. But it all come to me in a minute, who he was. It was the Widder Albert’s son-in-law, Loeezy’s husband. I remembered readin’ that he was expected to the Sentinal; and here he was, a watchin’ his mother-in-law’s pictures. Thinks’es I, how awful clever that is in him; some men despise their mother-in-laws. And I declare, my admirin’ feelins towards him, for treatin’ his wife’s ma so well, and the feelins I felt for that woman, so rousted me up, that I walked right up to him and held out my right hand, and says I, in tones tremblin’ with emotion:
“How do you do, Mr. Lorne? Little did I think I should have this honor and deep pleasure; little did I think I should see one of the Widder Albert’s own family here to-day.”
He kinder glared at me, in a strange and almost shocked way, and says I, in polite axents:
“You don’t know me, of course,” and then I made a handsome curchy as I says, “but I am Josiah Allen’s wife. Do tell me, how is your mother-in-law; how is the Widder Albert?” And then I wiped my heated forward, and says I,—“I am a very warm friend of hern. It takes more than the same blood to make folks related. Congenial spirits and kindred souls, are the truest relationship, and she is dretful near to me. Is the warm weather kinder wearin’ on her? It uses _me_ right up.” I have sweat more prespiration to-day, than any day sense I was on my tower. I have told my husband, Josiah, that if it kep’ on, I didn’t know but he would have to carry me home in a pail, (or pails.)
He spoke out and says he,—“Madam, you are mistaken, I—”
He looked awful sort o’ surprised, and even angry. It probable surprised him to see such polite manners in a Yankey. I was a actin’ well and friendly, and I knew it, and I kep’ right on a appearin’. Says I:
“Josiah and I have worried about her, a sight. We read last spring, in the _World_, that she was enjoyin’ real poor health, and we was afraid that this weather would go hard with her; for there haint another woman on the face of the earth, that I honor and admire, more than I do the Widder Albert. She is jest about right, I think; handsome enough, and not too handsome, so’s to be vain, and envied by other wimmen; smart enough, and not too smart, so’s to be conceited and top-heavy; and sound principles, sound as anything can be sound. Her heart is in the right place, exactly, bounded on one side by sympathy and tenderness, and on the other by reason and common sense. Why shouldn’t her husband have been a happy man, settin’ in the centre of such a heart? Why shouldn’t she have brought her childern up well? She is a woman that has had her Rights, and has honored them and herself. And let any opposer and scoffer of Woman’s Rights, take a telescope and look at the Widder Albert, and then look at her 4 fathers; let ’em see whether England has prospered best under her rain, or under their rain; let ’em see who has been the most God-fearin’ and well-behaved; let ’em turn that telescope onto her public actions, and then onto theirn; and then let ’em look close and searchin’ onto the private life of them 4 old fathers, and then onto hern, and see which looks the purest and prettiest.