Marietta Holley

I have been sick enough with a axident. Josiah had got his plantin’ all done, and the garden seeds was comin’ up nice as a pin, I will have a good garden. But the hens bothered me most to death, and kep’ me a chasin’ out after ’em all the time. No sooner would I get ’em off the peas, then they would be on the mush mellons, and then the cowcumbers would take it and then the string beans, and there I was rushin’ out doors bareheaded all times of day. It was worse for me than all my house work, and so I told Josiah.

One day I went out full sail after ’em, and I fell kerslap over a rail that lay in the grass, and turned my ancle jint, and I was laid up bed sick for two weeks. It makes me out of patience to think of it, for we might have a dog that is worth somethin’ if it wasn’t for Josiah, but as it is, if he haint to the house I have to do all the chasin’ there is done, for I might as well get the door step started on to the cattle, or hens, as to get our dog off of it, to go on to any thing.

And he is big as a young eliphant too, eats as much as a cow, and of all the lazy critters I ever did see, he is the cap sheaf. Why, when Josiah sets him on to the hens, he has to take him by the collar and kinder draws him along, all the way. And as for cows and calves, he seems to be afraid of ’em, somethin’ kinder constitutionel Josiah says. I tell him he might better bark ’em off himself, especially as he is a first rate hand at it, you can’t tell him from a dog when he sets out.

One mornin’ I says to him, “Josiah Allen, what’s the use of your keepin’ that pup?”

Says he “Samantha, he is a good feller, if I will kinder run ahead of him, and keep between him and the cows, he will go on to them first rate, he seems to want encouragement.”

“Encouragement!” says I, “I should think as much.”

I didn’t say no more, and that very day the axident happened. Josiah heard me holler, and he come runnin’ from the barn—and a scairter man I never see. He took me right up, and was carryin’ of me in. I was in awful agony—and the first words I remember sayin’ was these, in a faint voice.

“I wonder if you’ll keep that pup now?”

Says he firmly, yet with pity, and with pale and anxious face.

“Mebby you didn’t encourage him enough.”

Says I deliriously, “Did you expect I was goin’ to carry him in my arms and throw him at the hens? I tried every other way.”

THE AXIDENT.

“Wall, wall!” says he, kinder soothin’ly, “Do keep still, how do you expect I’m goin’ to carry you if you touse round so.”

He laid me down on the lounge in the settin’ room, and I never got off of it, for two weeks. Fever set in—I had been kinder unwell for quite a spell, but I wouldn’t give up. I would keep ’round to work. But this axident seemed to be the last hump on the camel’s back, I had to give in, and Tirzah Ann had to come home from school to do the work.

When the news got out that I was sick, lots of folks came to see me. And every one wanted me to take some different kinds of patented medicine, or herb drink—why my stomach would have been drounded out, a perfect wreck—if I had took half. And then every one would name my desease some new name. Why I told Josiah at the end of the week, that accordin’ to their tell, I had got every desease under the sun, unless it was the horse distemper.

One mornin’ Miss Gowdey came in, and asked me in a melancholy way, if I had ever had the kind pox. I told her I had.

“Well,” says she, “I mistrust you have got the very oh Lord.”

It was a Saturday mornin’ and Thomas Jefferson was to home, and he spoke up and said “that was a good desease, and he hoped it would prevail; he knew quite a number that he thought it would do ’em good to have it.”

She looked real shocked, but knew it was some of Thomas J.’s fun. There was one woman that would come in, in a calm, quiet way about 2 times a week, and say in a mild, collected tone,

“You have got the tizick.”

Says I, “the pain is in my foot mostly.”

“I can’t help that,” says she gently, but firmly, “There is tizick with it. And I think that is what ailed Josiah when he was sick.”

“Why,” says I, “that was the newraligy, the doctors said.”

“Doctors are liable to mistakes,” says she in the same firm but modest accents, “I have always thought it was the tizick. There are more folks that are tiziky than you think for, in this world. I am a master hand for knowin’ it when I see it.” She would then in an affectionate manner advise me to doctor for the tizick, and then she would gently depart.

There are 2 kinds of wimmen that go to see the sick. There’s them low voiced, still footed wimmen, that walks right in, and lays their hands on your hot foreheads so soothin’ like, that the pain gets ashamed of itself and sneaks off. I call ’em God’s angels. Spozen they haint got wings, I don’t care, I contend for it they are servin’ the Lord jest as much as if they was a standin’ up in a row, all feathered out, with a palm tree in one hand and a harp in the other.

So I told old Gowdey one cold winter day—(he is awful stingy, he has got a big wood lot—yet lets lots of poor families most freeze round him, in the winter time. He will pray for ’em by the hour, but it don’t seem to warm ’em up much)—he says to me,

“Oh! if I was only a angel! if I only had holt of the palm tree up yonder that is waitin’ for me.”

Says I, coolly, “if it is used right, I think good body maple goes a good ways toward makin’ a angel.”

As I say, I have had these angels in my room—some kinder slimmish ones, some, that would go nigh on to 2 hundred by the stellyards, I don’t care if they went 3 hundred quick, I should call ’em angels jest the same.

Then there is them wimmen that go to have a good time of it, they get kinder sick of stayin’ to home, and nothin’ happenin’. And so they take thier work, and flock in to visit the afflicted. I should think I had pretty near 25 a day of ’em, and each one started 25 different subjects. Wild, crazy subjects, most of ’em, such as fires, runaway matches, and whirlwinds; earthquakes, neighberhood fightin’, and butter that wouldn’t come; great tidal waves, railroad axidents, balky horses, and overskirts; man slaughter, politix, schism, and frizzled hair.

I believe it would have drawed more sweat from a able bodied man to have laid still and heard it, than to mow a five acre lot in dog days. And there my head was takin’ on, and achin’ as if it would come off all the time.

If I could have had one thing at a time, I could have stood it better. I shouldn’t have minded a earthquake so much, if I could have give my full attention to it, but I must have conflegrations at the same time on my mind, and hens that wouldn’t set, and drunken men, and crazy wimmin, and jumpin’ sheep, and female suffragin’ and calico cut biasin’, and the Rushen war, and politix. It did seem some of the time, that my head must split open, and I guess the doctor got scairt about me, for one mornin’ after he went away, Josiah came into the room, and I see that he looked awful sober and gloomy, but the minute he ketched my eye, he began to snicker and laugh. I didn’t say nothin’ at first, and shet my eyes, but when I opened ’em agin, there he was a standin’ lookin’ down on me with the same mournful, agonized expression onto his features; not a word did he speak, but when he see me a lookin’ at him, he bust out laughin’ agin, and then says I—

“What is the matter, Josiah Allen?”

Says he, “I’m a bein’ cheerful, Samantha!”

Says I in the faint accents of weakness, “You are bein’ a natural born idiot, and do you stop it.”

Says he, “I won’t stop it, Samantha, I will be cheerful;” and he giggled.

Says I, “Won’t you go out, and let me rest a little, Josiah Allen?”

“No!” says he firmly, “I will stand by you, and I will be cheerful,” and he snickered the loudest he had yet, but at the same time his countenance was so awfully gloomy and anxious lookin’ that it filled me with a strange awe as he continued—

“The doctor told me that you must be kep’ perfectly quiet, and I must be cheerful before you, and while I have the spirit of a man I will be cheerful,” and with a despairin’ countenance, he giggled and snickered.

I knew what a case he was to do his duty, and I groaned out, “There haint no use a tryin’ to stop him.”

“No,” says he, “there haint no use a arguin’ with me—I shall do my duty.” And he bust out into a awful laugh that almost choked him.

I knew there wouldn’t be no rest for me, while he stood there performin’ like a circus, and so says I in a strategim way—

“It seems to me as if I should like a little lemonade, Josiah, but the lemons are all gone.”

Says he, “I will harness up the old mare and start for Jonesville this minute, and get you some.”

But after he got out in the kitchen, and his hat on, he stuck his head into the door, and with a mournful countenance, snickered.

After he fairly sot sail for Jonesville, now, thinks I to myself, I will have a good nap, and rest my head while he is gone, and I had jest got settled down, and was thinkin’ sweetly how slow the old mare was, when I heerd a noise in the kitchen. And Tirzah Ann come in, and says she—

“Betsey Bobbet has come; I told her I guessed you was a goin’ to sleep, and she hadn’t better come in, but she acted so mad about it, that I don’t know what to do.”

Before I could find time to tell her to lock the door, and put a chair against it, Betsey come right in, and says she—

“Josiah Allen’s wife, how do you feel this mornin’?” and she added sweetly, “You see I have come.”

“I feel dreadful bad and feverish, this mornin’,” says I, groanin’ in spite of myself. For my head felt the worst it had, everything looked big, and sick to the stomach to me, kinder waverin’ and floatin’ round like.

“Yes, I know jest how you feel, Josiah Allen’s wife, for I have felt jest so, only a great deal worse—why, talkin’ about fevahs, Josiah Allen’s wife, I have had such a fevah that the sweat stood in great drops all ovah me.”

She took her things off, and laid ’em on the table, and she had a bag hangin’ on her arm pretty near as big as a flour sack, and she laid that down in one chair and took another one herself, and then she continued,

“I have come down to spend the entiah day with you, Josiah Allen’s wife. We heerd that you was sick, and we thought we would all come doun and spend the day with you. We have got relations from a distance visitin’ us,—relations on fathah’s side—and they are all a comin’. Mothah is comin’ and Aunt Betsey, and cousin Annah Mariah and her two children. But we don’t want you to make any fuss for us at all—only cousin Annah Mariah was sayin’ yesterday that she did want an old-fashioned boiled dinnah, before she went back to New York. Mothah was goin’ to boil one yesterday, but you know jest how it scents up a house, and in my situation, not knowin’ when I shall receive interestin’ calls, I do want to keep up a agreeable atmospheah. I told Annah Mariah you had all kinds of garden sauce. We don’t want you to make any difference for us—not in the least—but boiled dinnahs, with a boiled puddin’ and sugar sauce, are perfectly beautiful.”

I groaned in a low tone, but Betsey was so engaged a talkin’, that she didn’t heed it, but went on in a high, excited tone—

“I come on a little ahead, for I wanted to get a pattern for a bedquilt, if you have got one to suit me. I am goin’ to piece up a bedquilt out of small pieces of calico I have been savin’ for yeahs. And I brought the whole bag of calicoes along, for Mothah and cousin Annah Mariah said they would assist me in piecin’ up to-day, aftah I get them cut out. You know I may want bedquilts suddenly. A great many young girls are bein’ snatched away this spring. I think it becomes us all to be prepared. Aunt Betsey would help me too, but she is in a dreadful hurry with a rag carpet. She is goin’ to bring down a basket full of red and yellow rags that mothah gave her, to tear up to-day. She said that it was not very pretty work to carry visatin’, but I told her you was sick and would not mind it. I guess,” she continued, takin’ up her bag, “I will pour these calicoes all out upon the table, and then I will look at your bedquilts and patterns.” And she poured out about half a bushel of crazy lookin’ pieces of calico on the table, no two pieces of a size or color.

I groaned loudly, in spite of myself, and shut my eyes. She heard the groan, and see the agony on to my eye brow, and says she,

“The doctor said to our house this morning, that you must be kept perfectly quiet—and I tell you Josiah Allen’s wife, that you must not get excited. We talked it over this morning, we said we were all going to put in together, that you should keep perfectly quiet, and not get excited in your mind. And now what would you advise me to do? Would you have a sunflower bedquilt, or a blazing stah? Take it right to yourself Josiah Allen’s wife, what would you do about it? But do not excite yourself any. Blazing stahs look more showy, but then sun-flowehs are easier to quilt. Quilt once around every piece, and it is enough, and looks well on the other side, I am going to line it with otteh coloh—white looks betteh, but if two little children jest of an age, should happen to be a playing on it, it would keep clean longeh.”

Agin I groaned, and says Betsey, “I do wish you would take my advice Josiah Allen’s wife, and keep perfectly quiet in your mind. I should think you would,” says she reproachfully. “When I have told you, how much betteh it would be for you. I guess,” says she, “that you need chirking up a little. I must enliven you, and make you look happier before I go on with my bedquilt, and before we begin to look at your patterns and bedquilts, I will read a little to you, I calculated too, if you was low spirited; I came prepared.” And takin’ a paper out of her pocket she says,

“I will now proceed to read to you one of the longest, most noble and eloquent editorials that has eveh come out in the pages of the Augah, written by its noble and eloquent Editah. It is six columns in length, and is concerning our relations with Spain.”

This was too much—too much—and I sprung up on my couch, and cried wildly,

“Let the Editor of the Augur and his relations go to Spain! And do you go to Spain with your relations!” says I, “and do you start this minute!”

Betsey was appalled, and turned to flee, and I cried out agin,

“Do you take your bedquilt with you.”

She gathered up her calicoes, and fled. And I sunk back, shed one or two briny tears of relief, and then sunk into a sweet and refreshin’ sleep. And from that hour I gained on it. But in the next week’s Augur, these and 10 more verses like ’em come out.