We had to change cars about noon, as we went into the depot to get our tickets, the ticket man looked so kinder lonesome stuck in there alone, for all the world as if he had done somethin’ and his mother had shet him up, that I thought I would make a little talk with him.

He favored Celestine Wilkins’es husband considerable, jest such a meachin’ lookin’ feller, and I knew Celestine’s husband had a brother down this way somewhere, and so to kinder open a conversation with him, I asked him “If he ever had any relation that married a girl by the name of Gowdey?”

You ought to have heard how that feller snapped me up—he couldn’t have answered me any shorter, if I had asked him to run away with me.

But thinks’es I to myself, he has got morbid through lonesomness. I pitied him shet up alone there, and so in a few minutes I begun agin.

“I didn’t know but he was your brother, he has a good deal such a meachin’ look to him,” and says I, “The country round here hain’t so pleasant as Jonesville, do you think it is sir?”

“He didn’t know or care nothin’ about Jonesville.”

His tone was sharper than that sword aged two, that the bible tells of.

Says I, “Young man you needn’t take my head quite off, if you never did see Jonesville nor had any other advantages. I hain’t to blame for it.” And thinks’es I to myself, you may be lonesome for all of me, you may die of lonesomness for all I care, I shan’t try to make any more talk with you to make your time pass off easier.

We got on to the cars agin and got a good seat. I wanted to set by an open winder, and Betsey didn’t. I mistrust she thought the wind would take the kink out of her frizzles, and so she went on a seat or 2 ahead of me. There was a lot of fashionable lookin’ folks came in too, and one of ’em came along and set right down in the seat with me, the cars bein’ pretty full. She was dressed up like a doll, but she didn’t act stuck up a mite, my opinion is, she knew what belonged to good manners, and I offered her some caraway, for I liked her looks. She took it and thanked me for it, and says I to make talk with her,

“Are you goin’ far on the cars?”

She said, “She wasn’t goin’ far on this route, she was goin’ to a waterin’ place.”

“How far?” says I.

“Oh 2 or 300 miles,” says she.

“Good land!” says I, “Can’t you find any water nearer hum? Why,” says I, “I should think you would be choked before you got there.” Says I, “Our cistern and well sometimes gives out in hot weather, but Josiah always draws water from the creek,” why says I, full of pity for her, “If I hadn’t any water to the house, and nobody to draw it for me I should rather drive myself to the creek and water myself 3 times a day, than to start off on the cars so far after it. Howsumever every body to their own mind.”

She kinder laughed with her eyes, and, said somethin’ about “seasides” and “sea bathin’” or somethin’ and I felt it was my duty to say to her,

“You needn’t go 300 miles for that, you can get good seasides to Jonesville for 75 cents. Tirzah Ann, Josiah’s girl by his first wife, got one for that. I don’t wear hats myself, except,” says I with dignity, “in the cause of Right and for the good of the Human Race. And as for seein’ bathin’, I myself would go the other way, ruther than foller it up; howsumever everybody to thier own taste.” But I kep’ thinkin’ of it, and I couldn’t help breakin’ out agin, and speakin’ my mind; says I, in a good deal colder accents, “I would as soon go to a horse race—and sooner,” for the more I thought of it the more I thought that no virtuous woman would start off 300 miles to see bathin’ goin’ on. I acted offish after that, and was sorry I had give her the caraway.

Her face looked red, and she started up and went back and sot doun by some of her mates, and I was glad she did. She pretended to be a laughin’, and she was talkin’ to ’em awful busy; but I see one eye was on me the most of the time—she felt guilty.

At the very next station house two fellers come in that everybody seemed to be lookin’ at, and payin’ attention to. But they didn’t seem to mind it. They come in and sot doun right in the seat between me and Betsey.

After they had sot doun, one of ’em took a cigar out of his pocket, and put it in his mouth. It wasn’t lit, but he held it between his teeth as if it was a great comfort to him. Thinks’es I, it is kinder queer works, but I can stand it if the R. R. Company can. But Betsey leaned her head back, and says to him,

“Was you aware, kind sir, that cigars was confiscated on the cars?”

He didn’t say a word, but held on to it with his teeth as if it was dreadful comfortin’ to him. And she asked him over again. But not a word did he say. I guess she asked him five times—but not a word did she get out of him. And then she turned to the feller with him, the smilin’ chap, and says she,

“Is your companion a deaf male?”

He smiled. Agin she asked him,

“Is your pardner deprived of his eahs?”

“Oh no,” says he, “he has got ears,” and agin he smiled.

Thinks’es I, it is pretty queer works, but it is none of my business. I guess we had rode nigh on to an hour in jest that way, Betsey kinder oneasy and nestlin’ round, I calm and placid in demeaniour and one of the men between us a holdin’ that cigar in his mouth, as if it was indeed consolin’, and the other one a smilin’ blandly, at nothin’ in particular. Everybody in the cars seemed to be a lookin’ at ’em, and thinks’es I, it is no wonder, for of all the good natured lookin’ men I ever see, he is the cap sheaf. Thinks’es I, I wish every ticket agent in the world could have his benine face to hang up before ’em, for a sampler, for if there was ever a race that had the appearance of bein’ brought up on vinegar and ten-penny nails, it is them.

After a while, I got kinder hungry. My basket hung right up over them two men, and I rose up, and went to reach up for it, when the smilin’ chap got up a smilin’ and says he to me, “Can’t I assist you, madam?” and he reached up smilin’ as sweet as a rose, to take it doun, when all of a sudden the handle slipped out at one end, and doun come the contents right on to his face. One nut-cake, a long, slim one, sot up straight on his nose, as handsome as you ever see a circus man ride a white horse. But most mournful of all, I had some biled eggs, and unbeknown to me, Tirzah Ann had took ’em out too quick, before they was much more than warmed through, and they broke onto his face and all run doun into his whiskers. But if you will believe it, that blessed man smiled.

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Thinks I to myself, “Good land! was there ever such a clever critter on earth?” I handed him a clean towel, and told him I was sorry. But he smiled, and said, “it wasn’t any matter,” and wiped his sweetly smilin’ face, and handed the towel back smilin’.

The other feller never said a word, though one of the eggs broke onto the legs of his white pantaloons. Jest at this crisis, a tall man with whiskers came up, and said somethin’ to ’em, and they got up and went to the other end of the car, where there was a lot of smart lookin’ men. As they went by me the clever feller slipped on a piece of orange peel, and a most fell. But if you will believe it, the critter smiled.

I see that all of them smart lookin’ men acted dreadful reverential towards the two, and I says to a bystander behind me, “Can you tell me sir who that clever critter is, and the other one?” Says he, “That is Skyler Colfax, and General Grant.”

I rose right up in my seat, for at the mention of them two honored names, such emotions rushed onto me—that it drownded out fear, and all the shrinkin’ bashfulness of my sect, and I forgot in that wrapped moment that I wasn’t Josiah, and I advanced right onwards towards them two noble men. Every man round ’em see the lofty expression onto my face, and kinder fell back, and I walked right up and gripped Skylers’es hand with one of mine, while I held my umbrell in the other tremblin’ with emotion.

“Skyler, I am glad Tirzah Ann took ’em out too quick.”

He didn’t know what I meant, but that blessed man smiled, and agin I spoke in the same tremblin’ tones.

“I am glad they was rare done.”

Agin he smiled, and agin I spoke, and I mastered my feelin’s, with a effort, and spoke out loud and clear,

“The hen that laid them eggs, never shall do another day’s work as long as my name is Josiah Allen’s wife. I know jest which one laid ’em, for old speckle face’s eggs are so big that we always keep ’em for our own use.” Says I, “it makes me proud and happy to think I am the owner of that hen, for if it hadn’t been for them eggs, I never should have felt so well acquainted with you. If it hadn’t been for them eggs that broke onto your good and honored face, I never should have had the privilege of graspin’ holt of your hand and sayin’ to you what I now say, that though goodness and patience and faithfulness may be made light of by some, they are jest what is goin’ to carry Uncle Sam triumphant onward, with a smilin’ face, when the egg shells of uncivil war break on his honest face, and thier yelks run down into his whiskers.”

Here my feelin’s almost overcame me agin, and as he smiled at me, and spoke kinder pleasant to me—and smiled agin, I turned silently away and grasped holt of General Grant’ses hand, and says I, in still more chokin’ accents—

“Ulysses this is a proud day for Josiah Allen’s wife,” says I, “Ulysses how do you do?”

He didn’t say nothin’ but nodded kinder pleasant to me, and I says in the same almost tremblin tones for I knew he thought every thing of his relations. “How is Mr. Dents’es folks, are they all enjoying good health?” He nodded agin kinder pleasant but didn’t say a word, and I proceeded on—

“Ulysses you have freed the land from war and bloodshed. Wherever the smoke of that peaceful cigar has smoked, it has drove before it the blood red cloud of war and treason.” But says I, “that haint the main reason why I thought you ought to be President, and so I have told Josiah. I have said to Josiah more’n a hundred times that any man or woman ought to be President that knew enough not to talk when they hadn’t nothin’ to say. But—” says I, for even in that wrapped moment stern principle was the guide of J. Allen’s wife—“That was when you was run up for President the first time; I go now for Horace Greeley, and so does Josiah.”

There haint nothin’ little and envious about Ulysses Grant, he didn’t act mad a mite, he nodded to me agin as friendly as ever, and after invitin’ them both in the name of Josiah, to make it thier home with us whenever they come to Jonesville, and sendin’ my best respects to Julia and Mr. Dents’es folks, and Skylers’es wife Elliner, I retired to my seat and sot down.

When Betsey discovered who I had been talkin’ with, she looked wild at the thought, but it didn’t rouse in her, the spontanious emotions of patrotism it did in me. If a barell has been filled up with rain water, you can’t expect to tap it and have it run strong beer. When any sudden circumstance taps folks’es minds, they will run out of ’em jest what they have been filled with, no more, no less. My mind was that filled with noble emotions of admiration and patrotism, that I entirely forgot for the minute that I was J. Allen’s wife from Jonesville. But Betsey all the while remembered B. Bobbet, she also remembered her poetry. I don’t believe a few earthquakes could make her forget that, her first words was after she recovered herself,

“I will make General Grant, that deah, sweet man, a present. Everybody does, that wants to get onto the right side of him. I will give him a piece of my poetry. If I remember rightly I have got one in my satchel bag, all printed out, with a running vine around the edges. There is 45 verses of it, and it is on the war. How fortunate that I brought it along.” And as she dove her hands into her satchel bag, she continued dreamily,

“Mebby he is that liberal and generous turn with his own folks, that after he has read it, he will give it to some of his wife’s relations. Mebby there is a few widowehs among them,” and then in a still more dreamy tone she murmured, “Betsey B. Dent, Washington, D. C.” But anon or a little after, she roused out of this revery and takin’ the poetry in her hand, she started down the car, and I bein’ tired, leaned my head back against the side of the seat, and composed myself together.

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I guess I had most got into a nap, when I heard a loud wrathful, eloquent voice, seemin’ly makin’ a speech to some enimy. It started me up so that I rose right up onto my feet, and looked round, and there was that noble General, standin’ up with his hands extended, layin’ it down strong and decided. I knew what it was in ½ a minute, Betsey Bobbet had done what a five years uncivel war couldn’t do, nor a admirin’ nation of 20 million souls. She had got him to makin’ a speech, while Skyler who had smiled stidely for upwards of 40 years, stood lookin’ on with a dark and awfully gloomy frown onto him.

I stood silent for some time lost in the sorrowful feelin’s the scene called forth, and then almost overcome with my pity for them, I wended my way towards them. As I drew nearer to them, I heard his words which he was pourin’ out so eloquently and fluently, “Let us have peace, Can’t we have peace?” he was yellin’ in such harrowin’ tones, that there wasn’t hardly a dry eye in my head as I listened.

“Have I escaped from the horrible danger of war, have I survived the open bullets of my enimies, and the well meanin’ but almost fatal arrows of my friends, to expier in this way? To perish by poetry? Is there no sucker for me? Can’t we have peace?” he screamed in a loud preachin’ tone as he ketched sight of me, “Can’t we have it, say?”

He was almost delerious. But I laid my hand on his agitated elbow, and says I in soothin’ tones.

“Yes Ulysses, you shall have a piece, you shall, Josiah Allen’s wife will see to it, you shall have a piece.”

And then I leaned down and whispered a few words into Betsey Bobbett’s left ear, and she turned quicker’n a flash, and gathered up her poetry and rushed into the forward car.

As she disapeared, Skyler’ses face changed from that gloomy sinister frown, and agin he put on that smile that was upwards of 40 years old, but was still so sweet and fresh that I knew it was good for another 40 years—and the General grasped me by the hand sayin’ in agitated tones,

“There was upwards of 50 of ’em, and she would read ’em.” Says I soothingly, “I wouldn’t think of it Ulysses, it is all over now. I was glad to show the gratitude the nation owes to you. I was glad of the chance to befriend you.”

“Angel!” says he almost warmly. But I interupted him by sayin’ in a tone of dignity. “I honor and respect you deeply Ulysses—but in the two names of Julia and Josiah, I must forbid your callin’ me angel, or any other pet name.”

I knew it was only his deep gratitude to me for rescuin’ him from his peril that made him say it, for he and Julia think the world of each other. And the good solid principles, colored and morally struck in with tan bark in his early life, the muddy waters of political life haint been able to wash out, nor the gilt tinsel of fashionable life to cover up and destroy. I knew that even there in Washington Avenue, among all the big men there, he loved his wife, jest as much as if it was the fashion to love ’em. I knew all this, but still I felt that I must speak as I did, for principle with J. Allen’s wife—as I have remarked more formally—is all in all.

I then turned and followed Betsey, not knowin’ but what she would be a comin’ back. What I whispered in her left ear was this, that her back hair was comin’ down, and she bein’ so bald, I knew it would fetch her down like a arrow in her breast.

They left at the next Station House, and Betsey and me proceeded onwards to New York village with no farther coincidences.