Part 2

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

JOSIAH ALLEN GETS ASTRAY.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Says I, “a revelation from who?”

And he says, “From the Lord.”

And I says, “I guess not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I can get along, Josiah.”

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

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

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

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

“Widder Bump!”

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

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

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

“Widder Bump!”

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