On the next Monday mornin’, I let loose to my feelin’s as it was, and begun to make open preparations. I baked up the best vittles the house afforded, for I determined Josiah should live like a king durin’ his temporary widowerhood. Then after I got through bakin’ and got the house clean as a pin, I commenced to fix a dress to wear on the journey, for of course I wasn’t goin’ to wear my best dress with a overskirt on the railway. I am a master hand for bein’ careful of my clothes, and I knew it would almost spile one of my best dresses, but I had a calico dress as good as new. It was a dark blue ground work with a handsome sprig on it, and after I took up two tacks in it, I felt that it was jest the thing to wear on the tower.

I had jest put it on, and had got the lookin’ glass onto the floor to see if it cleared the floor enough, when Thomas Jefferson come in, and says he,

“Your dress is too short, mother, I hate to see short dresses, they look so hihorsical.”

I answered him with dignity as I looked over my shoulder into the glass,

“Samantha Allen, whose maiden name was Smith, haint a goin’ to mop out the cars for the railroad company, free gratis for nothin’,” and I added with still more impressive dignity, as I hung up the lookin’ glass, “what you mean by hihorsical I don’t know.”

He said it was a compound word derived from the Greek, “high,” to intoxicate, and “horsical,” a race horse, which two words strained off from the dead language and biled doun into English meant “hihorsical.”

I told him “I didn’t care for his Greek, I didn’t care if it was dead, not a mite, I shouldn’t cry over it,” and I told him further, fixin’ my gray eyes upon him serenely, “that there was two or three words that wasn’t dead, that he would do well to strain off, and bile doun, and take ’em for a stiddy drink.”

He wanted to know what they was, and I told him plainly they was “Mind your own business.”

He said he would bile ’em doun, and take ’em stiddy as a clock, and pretty soon he started off for Jonesville—he had staid to home that day to help his father. And I went on with a serene face a makin’ my preparations. Josiah didn’t hardly take his eyes off of my face, as I made ’em. He sot in a dejected way, a claspin’ the World in his two hands, with a sad look onto his face. He hated to think of my leavin’ him, and goin’ off on a tower. I see he did, and I says to him in a real affectionate tone,

“Josiah, haint there nothin’ I can do for you in New York, haint you got any errands to the village?”

He rubbed his bald head in deep thought for a minute or two, and then says he, (he thinks everything of the World,) “The nigger barber’s wife to Jonesville came pretty near runnin’ away with another nigger last night; if you have time I should love to have you go to the Editer of the World and tell him of it. I am afraid,” says he, and a gloomy, anxious look over-spread his eye-brow, “I am afraid he haint heard of it.”

I answered him in a soothin’ tone, “That I guessed he had heard of it before now, I guessed it would be in the next week’s World,” and Josiah kinder chirked up and went out to work.

The next day I took ten pounds of butter, and 4 dozen of eggs and Josiah carried me to Jonesville to trade ’em out, to get necessarys for me to wear on my tower. I didn’t begrech layin’ out so much expense, neither did Josiah, for we both knew that as I was gettin’ pretty well along in years, it wasn’t likely I should ever go off on a tower agin. And then I had been prudent and equinomical all my days, and it wasn’t no more than right that I should launch out now in a liberal way.

But all the time I was workin’ over that butter, and all the time I was countin’ out them eggs, Horace was in my mind. Hangin’ such hopes on him as I hung, I felt that I must do somethin’ openly, to give vent to my patriotic feelin’s in regard to him.

I never had wore hats, for I felt that I was too old to wear ’em. But now as I was startin’ off to Jonesville to get necessarys to wear on my mission to that great and good Horace, I felt that principle called on me to come out openly, and wear a white hat with a feather. And I felt that Josiah as the husband of Josiah Allen’s wife, and the carrier of her to get them necessarys, must also wear one.

The father of Josiah, had left to him with other clothin’, a large white fur hat. As the old gentleman hadn’t wore it for some 40 or 50 years prior to and before his desease, (he died when Thomas J. was a baby) it wasn’t in the hight of fashion. But says I, “Josiah Allen in the name of Horace and principle will you wear that hat?”

Says he, “I hate to like a dog, for they will think I have stole the Baptist steeple, and am wearin’ it for a hat.” But seein’ my sad dissapointed look, says he, “If you say so Samantha, I will wear it for once.”

Says I with dignity, “It is not your wife, formally Samantha Smith, that says so, it is principle.”

“Wall!” says he “fetch it on.” Josiah was awful clever to me, I guess it is natural for all men to conduct themselves cleverer when they are about to lose their pardners for a spell.

The hat was big. I couldn’t deny it. And Josiah bein’ small, with no hair to fill it up, as I lifted it up with both hands and set it onto him, his head went right up into it, the brim takin’ him right across the bottom of his nose.

Says he, out from under the hat, “There hain’t no use a talkin’ Samantha, I can’t never drive the old mare to Jonesville in this condition, blind as a bat.”

But I explained it to him, that by windin’ a piller-case, or somethin’ round the top of his head, the hat would fit on, jest as you would fix a small cork into a big bottle.

So that bein’ arrainged, my next thought was for my own hat, and I thought mournfully as I examined it, mine would be as much too small as his was too big; it was an old one of Tirzah Ann’s, it was pure white, but it was small for her, and nobody could have got me even to have tried it onto my head, for love or money. But in such a nature as J. Allen’s wife’s, principle is all in all.

And as I looked in the glass and see how awfully I looked in it, a feelin’ of grandeur—self sacrificin’ nobility and patrotism swelled up in me, and made my face look redder than ever, I am naturally very fresh colored. And I felt that for the sake of Horace and principle, I could endure the burnin’ sun, and mebby the scoffs and sneers of Jonesville, they bein’ most all on the side of Grant. I took a old white silk bunnet linin’ of mine, and put a new bindin’ round the edge, it bein’ formally bound with pink. And then after readin’ a chapter in Fox’es Book of Martyrs—a soul stirrin’ chapter, concernin’ them that was biled in oil and baked on gridirens for principle—I sallied out to get a feather to put onto it.

We hadn’t no white feathers by us, and I shouldn’t have felt like runnin’ Josiah into any extra expense to buy one, if there had been a feather store in the door yard. But our old rooster “Hail the Day,” as Thomas Jefferson calls him, had the most curlin’est, and foamin’est tail feathers you ever see, white as snow. And inspired by the most pure and noble and lofty sentiments that can animate the human breast, I chased up that old rooster for nigh onto half an hour. At last I cornered him behind the barn, and as I held him tight to my breast, and pulled out by main strength two long slim feathers, that quirled and waved in a invitin’ manner, I says to him,

“This is hard for you, old Hail the Day. But you are not the rooster I take you to be, you are not like your mistress, if you are not willin’ to suffer in the cause of Right.”

He flopped his wings, when I let him go, and crowed nobly. I fixed the feathers in and we set out. But I was more scairt than hurt in the line of scoffs. As we went into Jonesville not a scoff did I see—not a single scoff. No! they all smiled as they looked at us, they see the power of principle, and they was proud of us. Some of ’em laughed, they admired us so.

[264]
[265]

We drove up to the store and I went in with my butter and eggs, Josiah havin’ business to the blacksmiths. The clerk looked at me, and he smiled, and says he,

“I see you are for Horace Greeley.” He almost snickered but he checked himself, looked meachin’, as he see my keen gray eye fixed onto his hat which he had on, it was a kind of a mice coler, no principle shone on it of any kind.

“Yes,” says I, “I am for Horace,” and agin I looked keenly and searchin’ly at that hat, and says I “Be you on either side or be you on the fence?”

“Wall,” says he “I am kinder on the fence at the present time. But I didn’t get up there because I am a coward, I got up there through policy; when you are on the fence, you haint a steppin’ on the feet of either party, it is a safe place, and it is a sightly place, you can see better than you can on the ground.”

“When do you calculate to get off?” says I.

“Oh right after ’lection,” says he. “I shall get off on the side that beats.”

I see here was a chance for me to do good and says I,

“Young man, ridin’ a fence never carried any man or woman into nobility or honor,” says I, “you may saddle and bridle a fence with all the velvet cushioned caution, and silver mounted excuses, and shinin’ policy you are a mind to, but you never could get Josiah Allen’s wife on to it, she had ruther walk afoot,” says I, “them brave warriors that go canterin’ doun life’s battle field, leadin’ on the forlorn hope in the cause of Right, don’t go ridin’ a fence.”

He looked stricken, and I asked him in a milder tone to look at his green braige for viels. He took off that hat and threw it doun behind the counter, and brought out the braige, and I bought right there on the spot a yard and a quarter of it. I then bought a pair of new cotton gloves, a good sized umbrella, a pair of morocco shoes, a pair of pink elastic garters, and two as good stockin’s as Jonesville afforded, and butter would pay for. I haint one to flounce the outside of the platter, and let the inside go bony and ragged. I haint no opinion of wolves on the outside, and sheep on the inside, I want to be sheep clear to the bone, in dress as well as principle. Wall, who should come into the store, jest as I was examinin’ the green braige through my spectacles, but Betsey Bobbet. My purchases lay all round me on the counter, and says she,

“Josiah Allen’s wife, what means this extravagant outlay of expendature?”

Says I, as coolly as if I went there every mornin’ before breakfast,

“I am goin’ to New York village on a tower.”

She fairly screamed out, “What a coincidence!”

Says I calmly, “It haint no such thing, it is green braige for a viel. It is 75 cents a yard.”

“You do not understand me, Josiah Allen’s wife,” says she. “I mean that it is so singulah and coinciding that I am goin’ theah too. Cousin Melindy, she that married Ebenezah Williams, is just goin’ with the consumption. And I felt that duty was a drawin’ of me theah. As I told motheh, in case of anything’s happenin’, in case that Melindy should expiah, how sweet and soothin’ it would be to Ebenezah to have somebody theah, that could feel for him. It would about kill Ebinezah to lose Melindy, and I feel that it would be so sweet and comfortin’ for him to have somebody on hand to lean on;” she smiled sweetly as she continued, “there is almost a certainty that Melindy is about to be took from our aching hearts. But I fall back on the scripture, and on my duty, and try to feel as if I could give her up. When do you start?”

“Thursday mornin’,” says I in a tone as cold as a grindstone in January, for I see what was before me.

She clasped her two hands and smiled on me two times, and cried out agin, “Oh, what anotheh coincidence! jest the day I was intending to embark. Oh,” says she, “how sweet it will be for you to have a congenial companion on the way, as the poet Robinson Selkirk sweetly singeth,

Don’t you say so, Josiah Allen’s wife?”

“I respect Mr. Sage,” says I, “he is a man I admire, and Mr. Selkirk don’t know beans,” and I added in frigid tones, “when the bag is untied.” I see that my emotions was a gettin’ the better of me, I see my principals was a totterin’. I recollected that I was a member of the Methodist meetin’ house, and the words of a him come back to me, with a slight change in ’em to suit the occasion.

I turned and shouldered my cross.

“Betsey we will set sail together Thursday mornin’.” I then turned silently and left the store, for I felt than any further effort would have been too much for me.

Thursday mornin’ found me to the depott in good season. Betsey also was on time. I didn’t feel haughty nor at all proud, but still I felt that I was a independent householder startin’ to New York village on a tower at my own expense. I see that all the car folks felt friendly towards me for thier was a pleasant smile on their faces every time they looked at me and Betsey.

I wasn’t trimmed off so much as Betsey, but I looked well. I had on that good calico dress, a large black silk mantilly, a good shirred silk bunnet large enough to shade my face some, my bran new cotton gloves, my veil and my umbrell.

Betsey, I always thought put on too much to look well, howsomever everybody to their own mind. She had on a pale blue parmetta dress, with flounces and puckers onto it, a overskirt and a greek bender of the same, trimmed with checkered delain, out on a biasin’, a close fittin’ bask of the delain, which was pink and yellow plaid and which was pinked out on the edge with a machine. She had on a white bobbinet lace hat, jest big enough to cover her bump of self-esteem, trimmed with red and yellow roses and long ends of otter colored ribbon and white lace, then she had long cornelian ear rings, a string of beads round her neck, and a locket and a big blue breast pin and a cornelian cross. A pair of new white cotton gloves, trimmed with two rows of broad white cotton edgin’ five cents a yard—for I seen her buy it—and two horsehair bracelets. And with her new teeth and her long bran new tow curls, and waterfalls and frizzles all full of otter colored rosettes, I tell you she looked gay.

She says to me as she met my keen gaze.

“I don’t know but what you think I am foolish Josiah Allen’s wife, in enrobing myself in my best a coming on the road. But these are my sentiments. I knew we should get theah before night, and I should proceed at once to Ebinezah’s, and if anything should be a happening, if it should be the house of mourning, I thought it would be so comforting to Ebinezah, to see me looking beautiful and cheerful. Yon know theah is everything in first impressions. I mean of course,” she added hastily, “that I am that sorry for poor lonely widdowers and especially Ebinezah, that if I could be a comfort to them, I would be willing to sacrifice a tablespoonful of my heart’s best blood, much moah this blue parmetta dress. These are my sentiments Josiah Allen’s wife.”

Says I coldly, “I should know they was yours Betsey, I should know they was yours, if I should meet ’em in my porridge dish.”

But the time drew near for the cars to bear me away from Josiah, and I began to feel bad.

I don’t believe in husbands and wives partin’ away from each other, one livin’ in Europe, and one in New York village, one in Wall street, and the other on a Long Branch, one in Boston, and the other in North America. As the poet truly observes,

“When the cat is away the mice’s will go to playin’.”

As for me, I want my husband Josiah where I can lay my hand on him any time, day or night, I know then what he is about. Though so far as jealousy is concerned, Bunker Hill monument, and Plymouth Rock would be jest as likely to go to flirtin’ and cuttin’ up, as either of us. We have almost cast iron confidence in each other. But still it is a sweet and satisfyin’ thought to know jest where your consort is, and what he is about, from hour to hour.

Josiah and me didn’t shed no tears as we each of us parted, though our hearts ached with anguish we both of us felt it our duty to be calm. I felt a tear risin’ to my eye, but with a almost fearful effort I choked it back and said in low accents as we grasped holt of each others hands at partin’,

“Good by, Josiah, remember to feed the hens, and keep the suller door shet up.”

He too struggled nobly for composure and conquered, and in a voice of marble calm he said,

“Good by Samantha, don’t spend no more money than is necessary.”

The Ingin hitched to the front car give a wild yell, as if he felt our two woes—Josiah’s and mine—and we parted for the first time in goin’ on 15 years.

As I sunk back on the wooden bottomed car seat, perfectly onmanned by my efforts at commandin’ myself, for the first time I felt regret at my wild and perilous undertakin’.