Part 8
“Yes,” says the Widder Doodle, that is jest what Mr. Doodle used to say. He said it would make a woman’s reputation black as a coal, would spile her modesty entirely to go to the pole, and be too wearin’ on her. Says he, “Dolly it would spile you, and I would rather give my best cow than to see you spilte. Poor Mr. Doodle! there was a heavy mortgage on old Lineback then—it was a cow I brought to him when we was married, and Mr. Doodle was obleeged to mortgage her to git his tobacco through the winter; it was foreclosed in the spring, and had to go, but his speakin’ as he did, and bein’ so willin’ to give up my cow, showed jest how much he thought of me. Oh! he almost worshipped me, Mr. Doodle did.”
Jest at that very minute, Josiah laid down the _World_, and says he: “I am a goin to hitch up the old mare, Samantha. I guess you had better go, for I am a sufferin for them shirts; my old ones are a gettin’ so thin; I am cold as a frog.”
I braided my hair and done it up, and then I made a good cup of coffee, and brought out a cherry pie, and some bread, and butter, and cheese, and cold meat. We all eat a little, and then sister Doodle bein’ anxious about the shirts, and dretful tickled about my goin’, offered to wash up the dishes.
Josiah said we’d got to stop to the barn for the buffalo skin; he come out with it all rolled up in a curious way, and I see there was a middlin’ sized bundle in it, that he slipped under the seat. He seemed so anxious for me not to see it that I never let on that I did; but I kep’ my eye on it. I didn’t like the looks of things; Josiah acted strange, but he acted dretful affectionate towards me. But all the while I was on my tower towards ’lection—and the old mare went slow, all the time—though my face was calm, my mind was worked up and agitated and felt strange, and I kep’ s’posen things. I said to myself, here I be started for ’lection, my companion settin’ by my side, affection on his face, sweetness and peace throned onto his eyebrow, and at home is a Widder Doodle a helpin’ me off to ’lection. Everything is peace and harmony and gay, because I am a goin’ to ’lection after buttons and gussets for men’s shirts. And then I’d s’pose t’other way; s’posen I was a settin’ off with my mind all boyed up with enthusiasm in the cause of Right, a earnest tryin’ to do my full duty to God and man, pledgin’ my life and sacred honor to help the good cause forred and put my shoulder blades to the wheel; s’posen I was on my way to vote,—and it wouldn’t take me half so long as it would to pick out the shirt buttons, and things—my Josiah’s face would look black as a thunder cloud, anger and gloom would be throned on his eyebrow, his mean would be fierce and warlike; I should be an outcast from Isreal, and sister Doodle wouldn’t have washed a dish.
And so I kep’ s’posen things till we got clear to the store door and Josiah went to help me out; and then thinkin’ what my companion had warned me about so many times—about how dangerous and awful it was for wimmen to go near the pole—I says to him, in middlin’ quiet tones:
“Josiah I guess I’ll set in the buggy till you hitch the old mare, and then you can go in with me, so’s to kinder keep between me and the pole.”
But he says in excited tones:
“Oh shaw! Samantha; what fools wimmen can be, when they set out to! Who do you s’pose is a goin’ to hurt you? Do you s’pose Elder Minkley is a goin’ to burgle you, or old Bobbet asalt and batter you? There haint a man there but what you have been to meetin’ with. You wasn’t afraid last Sunday was you? Go in and get your buttons and things, so’s to be ready by the time I am for _once_,—wimmen are always so slow.”
I didn’t argue with him, I only said in cold tones:
“I wanted to be on the safe side, Josiah.”
But oh! how I kep’ s’posen things, as he lifted me out right in front of the pole, and left me there alone.
Josiah had business on his mind and it made him more worrysome; but I didn’t know what it was till afterwards. As I was a goin’ up the store steps I kinder looked back, and I see him take that bundle out of the wagon in a dretful sly way, and kinder meach off with it. I didn’t like the looks of things; he acted guilty, strange, and curious.
As I went into the store, I see sister Minkley up to the counter by the front winder, and I was glad to see her. The store was a big one and quite a lot of men was goin’ up and votin’. But good land! there wasn’t nothin’ frightful about it, I’ve seen three times as many men together, time and again. I wasn’t skairt a mite, nor sister Minkley wasn’t nuther. Two men was a swearin’, some, as I went in, but we heerd ’em swear as hard again 4th of July’s and common days; but the minute they catched sight of sister Minkley and me, they stopped off right in the middle of a swear, and looked as mild as protracted meetin’s, and took up some sticks and went to whittlin’ as peaceable as two sheeps.
Sister Minkley said she shouldn’t thought she could have come out that day, she had such a cold in her head, if her husband hadn’t urged her so, to come on his business. His heart seemed to be so sot on Kentucky Jane—
“Jane who?” says I in awful axents, for I couldn’t hardly believe my ears—my faith in that man’s morals was so high, it was like a steeple to my soul, and always had been ever sense I had known him—and I thought to myself if I have got to give up Elder Wesley Minkley, if his morals have got to totterin’ and swayin’ to and fro, a tottlin’ off after Janes and other wimmen, and if he is mean enough to send his wife off after ’em, I declare for’t I don’t know but I shall mistrust my Josiah. I know I looked wild and glarin’ out of my eyes, and horror was on my mean, as I asked her again in still more stern tones:
“Jane who?” For I was determined to get to the bottom of the affair, and if worst come to worst, to lay it before the meetin’ house myself, and have it stopped, and hushed up, before it got out amongst the world’s people, to bring a shame onto the meetin’ house, and them that belonged to it. And then as a woman that had a vow on her in the cause of Right, I felt it my duty to look out for Jane, and if there was any hopes of reformin’ her, to befriend her. And so I says in tones that would be replied to:
“Jane who?”
“Why Kentucky Jane for overhauls, he thought my judgment on Janes was better than hisen.”
“Oh!” says I in dretful relieved tones, for my heart would have sung for joy if it had understood the notes, it was that joyful, and thankful. Says I, “They have got a piece here that wears like iron, Josiah has got a frock offen it.”
Well, we stood there by the counter, a feelin’ of Jane, and tryin’ the thickness and color of it, and talkin’ together—as wimmen will—when who should come in but the Editor of the Auger’ses wife. She is a woman that is liked better on further acquaintance. She is thought a sight on in Jonesville; more’n her husband is, ten times over. She’s had two pair of twins sense she was married; I never see such a hand for twins as the Editor is. He’s had three pair and a half sense I knew him.
Well, as I was a sayin’, she came in, and called for some cigars. She told us he sent her to git ’em, the two biggest twins bein’ to school, and there bein’ nobody to come only jest him or her. She had walked afoot, and looked tired enough to sink; they lived about a mile and a half out of the village.
She said the Editor could not come himself for he was writin’ a long article on “The Imprudence, Impurity, and Impiety of Woman’s Appearance at the Pole.” She said, he said he was goin’ to make a great effort; he was goin’ to present the indecency and immorality of woman’s goin’ to ’lection, in such a masterly way that it would set the matter to rest forever. It was for to-morrow’s paper, and bein’ obleeged to use up so much brain, as he had to in the effort, he felt he must have some cigars, and a codfish; you know fish is dretful nourishin’ to the mind, and he is fond of it; he told her to get the biggest codfish she could get, and bile it up. And she was goin’ to.
I didn’t say much in reply to her, truly, as the poet says, “The least said is the soonest mended.” I only told her in a kind of a blind way, that if codfish was good for common sense, not to stent him on it. And jest then the storekeeper came back from down suller with the fish.
“Good land!” says I the minute I laid eyes on it; “haint you made a mistake?”
“What mistake?” says he.
Says I, “Haint it a whale?”
“Oh no,” says he, “it is a codfish; but it is a pretty sizeable one.”
“I should think as much,” says I. For as true as I live, when the Editor of the Auger’ses wife laid it over her arm, it touched the floor head and tail; and it made her fairly lean over it was so heavy. And I thought to myself that I could have tackled the biggest political question of the day, easier than I could tackle that whale, and carry it a mile and a half. And so the Editor of the Auger’ses wife went home from ’lection, luggin’ a whale, and walkin’ afoot.
I picked out my buttons, five cents a dozen, and bought my cotton flannel, and no Josiah. I felt worried in my mind. I thought of that mysterious bundle, and my companion’s strange and curious looks as he brought it out from the barn, seemin’ly unbeknown to me, and his dretful curious actions about it as he meached out of the buggy with it. And I felt worried, and almost by the side of myself. But I kep’ a cool demeanor on the outside of me—it is my way in the time of trouble to be calm, and put my best foot forred.
Jest then a man come up to me that I never laid eyes on before. He was a poor lookin’ shack; his eyes was white mostly, and stood out of his head as if in search for some of the sense he never could git holt of, and his mouth was about half open. A dretful shiftless lookin’ critter, and ragged as a Jew—all but his coat, and I’ll be hanged if that didn’t look worse than if his clothes was all of a piece. It was a blue broadcloth coat, swaller tailed, and had been a dretful genteel coat in the day of it—which I should judge was some fifty or sixty years previous to date. It was awful long waisted, and small round, and what they call single breasted; it turned back at the breast in a low, genteel way, over his old ragged vest; and ragged, red woolen shirt, and pinched him in at the bottom of his waist like a pismire, and the tails floated down behind, so polite over his pantaloons, which was fairly rags and tatters. As I said, I never laid eyes on him before, and still as he come up, and stood before me, I felt a curious, and strange feelin’ go most through me; sunthin’ in the arrer way. A curiouser more familiar-like, strange feelin’, I never felt. But I didn’t know then what it meant, I was in the dark. But more of this, anon, and hereafter.
Says the man, says he; “I beg your parding mom, for speaking to you, but you have got such a dretful good look to your face, somehow—,” (Truly as I have said prior, and before this, my trials with the Widder Doodle, my martyrdom on the stake of Doodle and particulars, borne like a martyr, have purified my mean and make me look first-rate.) Says the man, says he: “You look so good, somehow, that I want to ask your advice.”
Says I kindly, “I am a Promiscous Advisor by trade; advisin’ is my mission and my theme. Ask me any advice my honest man, that you feel called to ask, and I will proceed to preform about my mission.”
He handed me a ticket, with a awful dirty hand, every finger nail of which was seemin’ly in the deepest of mournin’ for the pen-knife and nail-brushes they never had seen; and says he, “Will you tell me mom, whether that ticket is a democrat ticket, or the t’other one?”
I put on my specks, and says I, “It is the t’other one.”
“Good Gracious!” says he; “Christopher Columbus! Pocahontas! Jim Crow and Jehosiphat!” says he. But I interrupted of him coldly, and says I:
“Stop swearin’, instantly and this minute; and if you want my advice, proceed, and go on.”
Says he, “There I have voted that ticket seventeen times, and I was paid to vote the democrat.” Says he, “I am a man of my word, I am a poor man but a honest one. And here I have,”—says he in a mournful tone—“here I have voted the wrong ticket seventeen times.” Says he in a bitter tone, “I had ruther have give half a cent than to had this happen.” Says he, “I am a poor man, I haint no capital to live on, and have got to depend on my honesty and principles for a livin’. And if this gets out, I am a ruined man;” says he in awful bitter tones, “what would the man that hired me say, if he should hear of it?”
“What did he give you?” says I, and as I said this, that strange, curious feelin’ came over me again, as strange a feelin’ as I ever felt.
Says he, “He give me this coat.”
Then I knew it all. Then the cast-iron entered my sole, the arrer that had been a diggin’ into me, unbeknown to me as it was, went clear through me, and come out on the other side, (the side furtherest from sister Minkley.) Then I knew the meanin’ of the strange feelin’ I had felt. It was Father Allen’s coat—one that had fell to Josiah. Then I knew the meanin’ of my companion’s mysterious demeanor, as he bore the bundle from the barn. His plottin’s the week before, and his drawin’s onto my sympathy, to keep me from puttin’ it into the carpet rags, when I was fairly sufferin for blue in the fancy stripe, and refrained from takin’ it, because he said it would hurt his feelin’s so. Oh the fearful agony of that half a moment. What a storm was a ragin’ on the inside of my mind. But with a almost terrible effort, I controlled myself, and kep’ considerable calm on the outside. Truly, everybody has their own private collection of skeletons; but that haint no sign they should go abroad in public a rattlin’ their bones; it don’t help the skeletons any nor their owners, and it haint nothin’ highlarious and happyfyin’ to the public. I hadn’t no idee of lettin’ sister Minkley into the clothes-press where my skeletons hung, knowin’ that she probable had a private assortment of her own skeletons, that she could look at unbeknown to me.
“What made you vote the wrong ticket?” Says I, “can’t you read?”
“No,” says he, “we can’t none of us read, my father, nor my brothers; there is nine of us in all. My father and mother was first cousins,” says he in a confidential tone; “and the rest of my brothers don’t know only jest enough to keep out of the fire. I am the only smart one in the family. But,” says he, “my brothers will all do jest as father and I tell ’em to, and they will all vote a good many times a day, every ’lection; and we are all willin’ to do the fair thing and vote for the one that will pay us the most. But not knowin’ how to read, we git cheated,” says he with that bitter look, “there is so much corruption in politics now-a-days.”
“I should think as much,” says I. And almost overcome by my emotions, I spoke my mind out loud.
“There couldn’t be much worse goin’s on, anyway, if wimmen voted.”
“Wimmen vote!” says he in a awful scornful tone. “_Wimmen!_”
“Then you don’t believe in their votin’,” says I mekanically (as it were) for I was agitated, very.
“No I don’t,” says he, in a bold, hauty tone. “Wimmen don’t _know_ enough to vote.”
I wouldn’t contend with him, and to tell the truth, though I haint hauty, and never was called so, I was fairly ashamed to be catched talkin’ with him, he looked so low and worthless. And I was glad enough that that very minute brother Wesley Minkley came up a holdin’ out his hand, and says he:
“How do you do sister Allen, seems to me you look some cast down. How do you feel in your mind to-day, sister Allen?”
Bein’ very truthful, I was jest a goin’ to tell him that I felt considerable strange. But I was glad indeed that he forgot to wait for my answer, but went on, and says he:
“I heard the words the poor man uttered as I drew near, and I must say that although he had the outward appearance of bein’ a shack—an idiotic shiftless shack, as you may say,—still he uttered my sentiments. We will wave the subject, however, of wimmen’s incapacity to vote.”
Elder Minkley is a perfect gentleman at heart, and he wouldn’t for anything, tell me right out to my face that I didn’t know enough to vote. I too am very lady-like when I set out, and I wasn’t goin’ to be outdone by him, so I told him in a genteel tone, that I should think he would want to wave off the subject, after perusin’ such a specimen of male sufferage as had jest disappeared from our vision.
[Sidenote: SENATOR VYSE AND HIS VICTIM]
“Yes,” says Elder Minkley mildly, and in a gentlemanly way, “we will wave it off. But Senator Vyse was a sayin’ to me jest now—he has come in to vote, and we got to talkin’, the Senator and I did, about wimmen’s votin’; and he is bitter ag’inst it. And I believe jest as the Senator does, that woman’s sufferage would introduce an element into politics, that would tottle it down from the foundation of justice and purity, on which it now firmly rests.”
I didn’t say a word, but oh! what a strange agitated feelin’ I felt, to hear brother Minkley go on—for that very Senator Vyse he was a talkin’ about, is a disgrace to Jonesville and the world. A meaner, licentiouser man never trod shoe leather. He lives two or three miles out of Jonesville, in a awful big, nice place; looks like a castle; he has troops of servants, and a colored nigger to drive his horses, and is considered a big-bug. And truly, if meanness makes a man feel big he has reason enough to feel. I never could bear the sight on him, though he is called handsome, and has dretful fascinatin’ ways. Bein’ so awful rich (he owns township after township, and heaps of money) he is made as much of as if he was made of pure gold from head to feet. But he’ll never git me nor Josiah to make of him; Josiah’s morals are as sound as brass.
But brother Minkley went on a talkin’, and oh! how I went on a thinkin’: “Senator Vyse says, that the nation would be so madded to have wimmen try to vote, that it would rise up to a man, to defend the purity of the pole. Ah! here comes the Senator to vote; look quick, Alzina Ann! stand up close to me, and I’ll try to introduce you.”
Oh! how reverentially, and awe-struck everybody in the store looked at the Senator as he came a sailin’ in, a lookin’ as big and hauty as if he owned Jonesville and the hull world. I believe they would have strewed palm leaves in his way, if they had any palms by ’em. He stopped a minute to speak to brother Minkley and the Elder introduced his wife to him, with an air as if he was a settlein’ a dowery on her, that would make her rich for life. And sister Minkley looked on to him as awe-stricken, and admirin’ly, as if he was a entire menagery of new and curious animals, and she beholdin’ ’em for the first time on a free ticket. And when he reached out his hand to shake hands with her, she acted perfectly overcome with joy.
Then brother Minkley introduced the Senator to me, with considerable the mean as if he was makin’ me a present of a nice house and lot, all paid for. But when that Senator reached out his hand to shake hands with Josiah Allen’s wife, that woman, nerved completely up with principle, jest looked at him with a stiddy lofty mean, and gripped holt of her brown alpaca overskirt, and never touched his hand. I wouldn’t. It was white and delicate, and a great seal ring set with diamonds glittered on it, but it was stained with crimes blacker than murder, enough sight; I had jest as lives laid holt of a pisen serpent.
I am naturally well bred, and polite in my demeanor, and the politest way is generally the quietest way; so ruther than make a fuss, I bowed my head a very little, mebby half or three quarters of a inch. But oh! what a majestic look there was on my eyebrow; what a terrible rebukin’ expression curved my nostrils; what a firmness, and a icyness there sot throned on my upper lip. He felt it. His handsome false face turned red as blood, as I calmly replied to brother Minkley’s last words. Says I:
“I agree with you brother Minkley in what you said. I think it would be a first-rate plan to keep impure people from the pole, male or female. It would be apt to thin the voters out considerable; it would be apt to make it considerable lonesome for the pole. But howsumever, I should approve of it highly and so would Josiah.”
Truly, if the coat fits anybody, let ’em put it on freely, without money and without price. Senator Vyse felt what I said deeply, I know he did, for I’ll be hanged if I ever see Josiah’s face look any meachener in his meachinest times. I then coolly turned my back to ’em and looked out of the winder; and the Senator and brother Minkley went up towards the pole together, for the Elder seemed to think it would be a perfect treat to see such a big man vote. And sister Minkley followed him with her eyes, as admirin’ly as if he was a hull circus, side show and all.
When Senator Vyse and Brother Minkley moved off toward the pole, Sister Minkley and I was left alone. We was in a little corner by the winder, fenced in by a high counter and still more deeply secluded by a lofty and almost precipitous pile of rag carpetin’, that towered up on the nigh side of us. On the off side as I said was the counter.
My body stood there a lookin’ out of the winder, but my mind was nearly lost in thought, a wanderin’ off into a complete wilderness of strange and conflictin’ idees; little underbrushes of puzzlin’ contradictions, runnin’ every which way, and hedgin’ my mind almost completely up, when it tried to soar off free and noble; great high trees of the world’s curious beliefs, and practices, and proceedin’s, castin’ a shadder black as night down on the ever green mosses beneath ’em all. Sometimes my tuckered out mind would git half a minute’s rest, reclinin’ as you may say, on them mosses, that with tender, faithful fingers, touch with the same repose, the ruins of castle and hovel; that are ever green in sunshine and in shade; that quietly, silently—never hastin’, never restin’, never tirin’—make a soft piller for all tired heads alike; the lofty, and the lowly. Sometimes, as I say, I would rest half a moment in the thought of that tender Mercy and Compassion. And little wild flowers of sweet thoughts and consolations, would kinder peep up at me, and hopes, and prophecies of truth and justice would shine out like glorious stars; and I’d git perhaps for three quarters of a moment or so, all lit up and a feelin’ awful well. Then my mind would soar off again, considerable of a ways, and some of them runnin’ vines of curious idees and customs, that was a tanglin’ up the tree tops, would trip it up, and down it would come again—all the harder from fallin’ from such a height. Good land! what a hard time it was a havin’. All of a sudden sister Minkley spoke up, for she too, it seems, had been a lookin’ out of the winder, entirely unbeknown to me.
Says she, “I believe jest as Wesley and Senator Vyse does. Look at that creeter across the street. What would become of the nation if such things was permitted to vote?”
And she pinted with her gingham umberell across the street to a girl that was sometimes in Jonesville, and sometimes in the city. A girl, that every time I looked at her, made my cheeks blush with shame for her, and my eyes brim over with tears for her. I don’t believe there was ever a dry eye in my head when I looked at that girl, because I had heerd her story, the hull thing, from one that knew. And that was one very great reason, why I turned my back to Senator Vyse, and wouldn’t touch his hand; the mean, contemptible, creeter.