In a few minutes the great ship begun to breathe hard, as if tryin’ to git up strength for the move, and kinder shook itself, and gin a few hoarse yells, and sot off, seemin’ to kinder tremble all over with eagerness to be gone. And so we sot sail, but ship and shore and boundless water all looked beautiful and gay to me. What a change, what a change from the feelin’s I had felt; then the cold spectral moonlight of loneliness rested on shore and Golden Gate, now the bright sun of love and happiness gilded ’em with their glorious rays, and I felt well. Well might Mr. Drummond say, “Love is the greatest thing in the world.” And as I looked on my precious pardner I bethought fondly, no matter how little a man may weigh by the steelyards, or how much a Arvilly may make light on him, if Love is enthroned in his person he towers up bigger than the hull universe. And so, filled with joy radiatin’ from the presence of the best beloved, and under the cloudless sunshine of that glorious day, I set out on my Trip Abroad. Yes, I wuz once more embarked on that great watery world that lays all round us and the continents, and we can’t help ourselves.

And the days follered one another along in Injin file, trampin’ silently and stiddily on, no matter where we be or what we do. So we sailed on and on, the ship dashin’ along at I don’t know how many knots an hour. Probably the knots would be enough if straightened out to make a hull hank of yarn, and mebby more. Part of the time the waves dashin’ high. Mebby the Pacific waves are a little less tumultous and high sweepin’ than the Atlantic, a little more pacific as it were, but they sway out dretful long, and dash up dretful 83 high, bearin’ us along with ’em every time, up and down, down and up, and part of the time our furniture and our stomachs would foller ’em and sway, too, and act. The wind would soar along, chasin’ after us, but never quite ketchin’ us; sometimes abaft, sometimes in the fo’castle, whatever that may be.

And under uz wuz the great silent graveyard, the solemn, green aisles, still and quiet, and no knowin’ how soon we should be there, too, surrounded by the riches of that lost world of them that go down in ships, but not doin’ us any good. Only a board or two and some paint between us and destruction (but then I don’t know as we are seperated any time very fur from danger, earthquakes, tornados and such). And good land! I would tell myself and Josiah, for that matter I’ve known wimmen to fall right out of their chairs and break themselves all up more or less, and fall often back steps and suller stairs and such. But ’tennyrate I felt real riz up as I looked off on the heavin’ billers, and Faith sez to me, “Why should I fear since I sailed with God.” The seas, I am journeying, I told myself with Duty on one side of me and on the other side Josiah, and the sun of Love over all. I got along without any seasickness to speak of, but my pardner suffered ontold agonies––or no, they wuzn’t ontold, he told ’em all to me––yes, indeed!

Tommy “wonnered” what made the big vessel sail on so fast, and what made so much water, where it all come from, and where it wuz all goin’ to. And at night he would lay on his little shelf and “wonner” what the wind wuz sayin’; one night he spoke out kinder in rhyme, sez he: “Grandma, do you know what the wind is sayin?” And I sez:

“No, dear lamb; what is it sayin’?” It has sounded dretful, kinder wild and skairful to me, and so it had to Josiah, I knew by the sithes he had gin. Sez Tommy, it sez:

And I sez, “Thank you, Tommy, you’ve done me good.” And I noticed that Josiah seemed more contented and dropped off to sleep real sweet, though he snored some. Sometimes Tommy would “wonner” what seasickness wuz like, if it wuz any like measles, but didn’t find out, for he wuzn’t sick a day, but wandered about the great ship, happy as a king, making friends everywhere, though Robert Strong remained his chief friend and helper. Dorothy wuz more beautiful than ever it seemed to me, a shadow of paleness over her sweet face peeping out from the white fur of her cunning little pink hood, makin’ her look sweeter than ever. There wuz two or three handsome young men on board who appreciated her beauty, and I spoze the gold setting of her charming youth. But Miss Meechim called on Robert Strong to help protect her, which he did willingly enough, so fur as I could see, by payin’ the most devoted attention to her himself, supplying every real or fancied want, reading to and with her, and walking up and down the deck with her, she leanin’ on his arm in slippery times.

“Dear boy!” said Miss Meechim, “how lovely he is to me. He would much rather spend his time with the men in the smoking and reading room, but he has always been just so; let me express a wish and he flies to execute it. He knows that I wouldn’t have Dorothy marry for all the world, and had it not been for his invaluable help I fear that she would have fallen a prey to some man before this.”

“She is a pretty girl,” sez I, “pretty as a pink rosy.”

“Yes,” sez she, “she is a sweet girl and as good as she is beautiful.”

There was the usual variety of people on the ship. The rich family travelin’ with children and servants and unlimited baggage; the party of school girls with the slim talkative teacher in spectacles, tellin’ ’em all the pints of interest, and stuffin’ ’em with knowledge gradual but constant; the stiddy goin’ business men and the fashionable ones; the married flirt and the newly married bride and husband, sheepish lookin’ but happy; old wimmen and young ones; young men and old ones; the sick passenger confined to his bed, but devourin’ more food than any two well ones––seven meals a day have I seen carried into that room by the steward, while a voice weak but onwaverin’ would call for more. There wuz a opera singer, a evangelist, an English nobleman, and a party of colored singers who made the night beautiful sometimes with their weird pathetic melodies.

There wuz two missionaries on board, one the Rev. Dr. Wessel, real dignified actin’ and lookin’––he wuz goin’ out as a missionary to China, and a young lady going out as a missionary to Africa, Evangeline Noble––she wuz a member of some kind of a sisterhood, so she wuz called Sister Evangeline. I sot a sight of store by her the first time I laid eyes on her. Anybody could see that she wuz one of the Lord’s anointed, and like our cousin John Richard, who went out as a missionary to Africa several years ago, she only wanted the Lord’s will pinted out to her to foller it to the death if necessary. Livin’ so nigh to the Kingdom as she did she couldn’t help its breezes fannin’ her tired forehead occasionally, and the angels’ songs and the sound of the still waters from reachin’ her soul. She had left a luxurious home, all her loved ones, a host of friends, and wuz goin’ out to face certain hardships, and probable sickness and death amongst a strange half savage people, and yet she had about the happiest face I ever saw. His peace wuz writ down on her brow. Her Lord journeyed with her and told her from day to day what he wanted her to do. After we got well acquainted she told me that ever since her conversion there were times when she became unconscious to things on earth, but her soul seemed to be ketched up to some other realm, where He, who wuz her constant helper and guide, told her what to do. I told Josiah about it, and he sez:

“I’d ruther see that than hear on’t. How can she be ketched up, weighin’ pretty nigh two hundred?”

Sez I, “Your views are material, Josiah. I said her soul wuz ketched up.”

“Oh, well, my soul and body has ginerally gone together where I’ve went.”

“I don’t doubt that,” sez I, “not at all. Spiritual things are spiritually discerned.”

“Well,” sez he, “I’ve hearn a sight about such things as that, but I’d ruther see ’em myself.”

Well, it wuzn’t but a day or two after that that he had a chance to see if he had eyes. Sister Evangeline wuz settin’ with Josiah and me on the deck, and all of a sudden while she wuz talkin’ to us about her future life and work in Africa, her face took on a look as yourn would if your attention had been suddenly arrested by a voice calling you. She looked off over the water as if it wuzn’t there, and I felt that someone wuz talkin’ to her we couldn’t see––her face had jest that look, and at last I hearn her murmur in a low voice:

“Yes, Master, I will go.”

And most immegiately her soul seemed to come back from somewhere, and she sez to me:

“I am told that there is a poor woman amongst the steerage passengers that needs me.” And she riz right up and started, like Paul, not disobedient to the Heavenly vision, not for a minute. She told me afterward that she found a woman with a newly-born child almost dying for want of help. She was alone and friendless, and if Sister Evangeline hadn’t reached her just as she did they would both have died. She wuz a trained nurse, and saved both their lives, and she wuz as good as she could be to ’em till we reached port, where the woman’s husband wuz to meet her.

Josiah acted stunted when I told him, but sez weakly, “I believe she hearn the woman holler.”

And I sez, “She wuz fainted away, how could she holler?”

And he sez, “It must be a heavy faint that will keep a woman from talkin’.”

The other missionary, Elder Wessel, I didn’t set quite so much store by. His only child Lucia wuz on board going out to China with a rich tea merchant’s family as a governess for their little daughter, and some one told me that one reason that Elder Wessel hearn such a loud call to go as a missionary to China was because Lucia wuz goin’ there.

Now, there wuz a young chap over in Loontown who had tried doctorin’ for a year or two and didn’t make much by it, and he thought he see a sign up in the heavens, G. P., and he gin out that he had had a call “go preach,” and went to preachin’, and he didn’t make so well by that as he did by his doctorin’, and then he gin out that he had made a mistake in readin’ the letters; instead of goin’ to preach they meant “give pills,” so he went back to his doctorin’ agin, and is doin’ first rate. That wuzn’t a call.

But to resoom. Elder Wessel jest worshipped this daughter, and thought she wuz the sweetest, dearest girl in the world. And she wuz a pretty girl with soft, bright innocent eyes. She wuz educated in a convent, and had the sweet, gentle manners and onworldly look that so many convent-bred girls have. She and Aronette struck up a warm friendship, though her pa wouldn’t have allowed it I spoze if he hadn’t seen how much store we all sot by Aronette.

We got real well acquainted with Elder Wessel and Lucia; and her proud pa wuz never tired of singin’ her praises or ruther chantin’ ’em––he wuz too dignified to sing. Arvilly loved to talk with him, though their idees wuz about as congenial as ile and water. He wuz real mild and conservative, always drinked moderate and always had wine on his table, and approved of the canteen and saloon, which he extolled as the Poor Man’s Club. He thought that the 88 government wuz jest right, the big trusts and license laws jest as they should be.

Arvilly dearly loved to send sharp arrows of sarkasm and argument through his coat armor of dignified complacency and self-esteem, for truly his idees wuz to her like a red rag to a bull.

Miss Meechim kinder looked down on Arvilly, and I guess Arvilly looked down on her. You know it happens so sometimes––two folks will feel real above each other, though it stands to reason that one of ’em must be mistook. Miss Meechim thought she wuz more genteel than Arvilly, and was worth more, and I guess she had had better advantages. And Arvilly thought she knew more than Miss Meechim, and I guess mebby she did. Miss Meechim thought she wuz jest right herself, she thought her native land wuz jest right and all its laws and customs, and naterally she looked down dretfully on all foreigners. She and Arvilly had lots of little spats about matters and things, though Miss Meechim wuz so genteel that she kep’ her dignity most of the time, though Arvilly gin it severe raps anon or oftener.

But one tie seemed to unite ’em a little––they wuz real congenial on the subject of man. They both seemed to cherish an inherent aversion to that sect of which my pardner is an ornament, and had a strong settled dislike to matrimony; broken once by Arvilly, as a sailor may break his habit of sea-faring life by livin’ on shore a spell, but still keepin’ up his love for the sea.

But of their talks together and Arvilly’s arguments with Elder Wessel more anon and bime by. Arvilly stood up aginst the sea-sickness as she would aginst a obstinate subscriber, and finally brought the sickness to terms as she would the buyer, on the third day, and appeared pale but triumphant, with a subscription book in her hand and the words of her prospectus dribblin’ from her lips. She had ordered a trunkful to sell on sight, but Arvilly will never git over what she has went through, never.

As the days went on the big ship seemed more and more to us like a world, or ruther a new sort of a planet we wuz inhabitin’––it kinder seemed to be the centre of the universe. I overheard a woman say one day how monotonous the life wuz. But I thought to myself, mebby her mind wuz kinder monotonous––some be, you know, made so in the first on’t; I found plenty enough to interest me, and so Josiah did.

There wuz a big library where you could keep company with the great minds of the past and present. A music room where most always some of the best music wuz to be hearn, for of course there wuz lots of musicians on board, there always is. And for them that wanted it, there wuz a smokin’ room, though Josiah or I didn’t have any use for it, never havin’ smoked anything but a little mullen and catnip once or twice for tizik. And there wuz a billiard room for them that patronized Bill, though I never did nor Josiah, but wuz willin’ that folks should act out their own naters. I spoze they played cards there, too. But Josiah and I didn’t know one card from another; I couldn’t tell Jack from the King to save my life.

We stayed in the music room quite a good deal and once or twice Josiah expressed the wish that he had brought along his accordeon.

And he sez: “It don’t seem right to take all this pleasure and not give back anything in return.”

But I sez, “I guess they’ll git along without hearin’ that accordeon.”

“I might sing sunthin’, I spose,” sez he. “I could put on my dressin’ gown and belt it down with the tossels and appear as a singer, and sing a silo.”

That wuz the evenin’ after Dorothy, in a thin, white dress, a little low in the neck and short sleeves, had stood up and sung a lovely piece, or that is I ’spoze it wuz lovely, it wuz in some foreign tongue, but it sounded first rate, as sweet as the song of a robin or medder lark––you know how we all like to hear them, though we can’t quite understand 90 robin and lark language. It wuz kinder good in Josiah to want to give pleasure in return for what he had had, but I argyed him into thinkin’ that he and I would give more pleasure as a congregation than as speakers or singers. For after I had vetoed the singin’ that good man proposed that he should speak a piece. Sez he, “I could tell most the hull of the American Taxation.”

And I sez, “I wouldn’t harrer up the minds of the rich men on board with thoughts of taxes,” sez I, “when lots of ’em are goin’ away to get rid on ’em.”

“Well,” sez he, “I could tell the hull of Robert Kidd.”

And I sez, “Well, I wouldn’t harrer up their feelin’s talkin’ about hullsale stealin’; they have enough of that to hum in the big cities.”

So gradual I got him off from the idee.

There wuz one little boy about Tommy’s age and a sister a little older I felt real sorry for, they looked so queer, and their ma, a thin, wirey, nervous lookin’ woman brooded over ’em like a settin’ hen over her eggs. They wuz dressed well, but dretful bulged out and swollen lookin’, and I sez to their ma one day:

“Are your children dropsical?”

And she sez, “Oh, no, their health is good. The swellin’s you see are life preservers.” She said that she kep’ one on their stomachs night and day.

Well, I knew that they would be handy in a shipwreck, but it made ’em look queer, queer as a dog.

And now whilst the passengers are all settin’ or standin’ on their own forts and tendin’ to their own bizness, and the big ship ploughin’ its big liquid furrow on the water I may as well tell what Arvilly went through. I spoze the reader is anxious to know the petickulers of how she come to be in the Cuban army and desert from it. The reason of her bein’ in the army at all, her husband enlisted durin’ the struggle for Cuban independence, and Arvilly jest worshippin’ the ground he walked on, and thinkin’ the world 91 wuz a blank to her where he wuz not, after the last care he left her wuz removed, and always havin’ done as she wuz a mind to as fur as she could, she dressed herself up in a suit of his clothes and enlisted onbeknown to him, so’s to be near to him if he got woonded, and ’tennyrate to breathe the same air he did and sleep under the same stars. She adored him.

It must be remembered that Arvilly had never loved a single thing till she fell in love with this man, her folks dyin’ off and leavin’ her to come up the best she could, and imposed upon and looked down upon on every side, and workin’ hard for a livin’, and after she got old enough to read and understand, bein’ smart as a whip and one of the firmest lovers of justice and fair play that ever wuz born, she become such a firm believer in wimmen’s rights that she got enemies that way. Well, you know right when she started for the World’s Fair, helpin’ herself along by sellin’ the book, “The Wild, Wicked, and Warlike Deeds of Men” (which she said she felt wuz her duty to promulgate to wimmen to keep ’em from marryin’ and makin’ fools of themselves). Well, right there, some like Paul on his way to Jerusalem breathin’ vengeance against his Lord, a great light struck him down in the road, so with Arvilly, the great light of Love stopped her in her career, she dropped her book, married the man she loved and who loved her, and lived happy as a queen till the Cuban war broke out.

Her husband wuz a good man, not the smartest in the world, but a good, honest God-fearin’ man, who had had a hard time to get along, but always tried to do jest right, and who hailed Arvilly’s bright intellect and practical good sense and household knowledge as a welcome relief from incompetence in hired girl form in the kitchen. His first wife died when his little girl wuz born, and she wuz about seven when Arvilly married her pa. Well, he bein’ jest what he wuz––conscientious, God-fearin’ and havin’ hearn his minister preach powerful sermons on this bein’ a war 92 of God aginst the Devil, enlightenment and Christianity aginst ignorance and barbarism, America aginst Spain––he got all fired up with the sense of what wuz his duty to do, and when his mind wuz made up to that no man or woman could turn him. Arvilly might have just as well spent her tears and entreaties on her soapstun. No, go he must and go he would. But like the good man he wuz, he made everything just as comfortable as he could for her and his little daughter, a pretty creeter that Arvilly too loved dearly. And then he bid ’em a sad adoo, for he loved ’em well, and Arvilly had made his home a comfortable and happy one. But he choked back his tears, tried to smile on ’em with his tremblin’ lips, held ’em both long in his strong arms, onclosed ’em, and they wuz bereft. Well, Arvilly held the weeping little girl in her arms, bent over her with white face and dry eyes, for his sake endured the long days and longer nights alone with the child, for his sake taking good care of her, wondering at the blow that had fell upon her, wondering that if in the future she could be so blest agin as to have a home, for love is the soul of the home, and she felt homeless.

Well, she watched and worked, takin’ good care of the little one, but bolts and bars can’t keep out death; Arvilly’s arms, though she wuz strong boneded, couldn’t. Diphtheria wuz round, little Annie took it; in one week Arvilly wuz indeed alone, and when the sod lay between her and what little likeness of her husband had shone through the child’s pretty face, Arvilly formed a strange resolution, but not so strange but what wimmen have formed it before, and probably will agin till God’s truth shall shine on a dark world and be listened to, and wars shall be no more. She made up her mind to foller the man she loved, to enlist. She wuz always a masculine lookin’ creeter, big, raw boneded, and when she cut off her hair and parted it on one side in a man’s way and put on a suit of her husband’s clothes she looked as much, or more like a man than she had ever 93 looked like a woman. She locked the doors of her home till the cruel war should be ended, and he whose love made her home should return. Till then, if indeed it should ever be, she left her happiness there in the empty, silent rooms and sallied off. She had disposed of her stock and things like that, folks not bein’ surprised at it, bein’ she wuz alone, but all to once she disappeared, utterly and entirely, nobody hearn of her and folks thought that mebby she had wandered off in her grief and put an end to her life. Not one word wuz hearn of her until lo and behold! the strange news come, Arvilly’s husband wuz killed in a drunken brawl in a licensed Canteen down in Cuba and Arvilly had deserted from the army, and of course bein’ a woman they couldn’t touch her for it. That wuz the first we ever knowed that she wuz in the army.