My Wayward Pardner / or, My Trials with Josiah, America, the Widow Bump, and Etcetery

THE LORDS OF CREATION.

Josiah Allen is awful tickled to think he is a man. He has said so to me, time and agin. And I don’t wonder a mite at it. Men are first-rate creeters, and considerable good-lookin’. I have always said so. And they have such glorious chances to be noble and grand, and to work for the true and the right, that I don’t wonder a mite that Josiah feels just as he duz feel.

And when Josiah tells me how highly tickled he is he is a man—when he says it in a sort of a pensive and dreamy way, kinder miselanious like—I don’t resent it in him but on the contrary approve of it in him, highly. But once in a while he will get to feelin’ kind o’ cross and uppish, and say it to me in a sort of a twittin’ way, and boastin’.

Mebby he will begin by readin’ out loud to me sunthin’ against wimmen’s rights, in the World or almanac, or some other high-toned periodical; sometimes it will be awful cuttin’ arguments aginst wimmen. And after he gets through readin’ it he will speak out in such a sort of a humiliatin’ way about how awful tickled he is, he is a man, so he can vote, and help keep the glorious old state of New York on its firm basis of nobility, morality, and wise economy.

Why, says he to me the other afternoon (feelin’ fractious was the cause of his sayin’ it at the time), says he: “Wimmen are dretful simple creeters; gossipin’, weak, weak-minded, frivolous bein’s; extravagant, given to foolish display. They don’t mind the cost of things if they can only make a big show. So different from men, they be. Why,” says he proudly and boastfully, “you never in your life ketched a man gossipin’ over their neighbors’ affairs. You never see ’em meddlin’ the least mite with scandal and evil talkin’. Men are economical, sound-minded. They spend only jest what they need, what is useful—nothin’ more, not a cent more. Why,” says he, “take it with wimmen’s foolish extravagance and love of display, what would the glorious old state of New York come to if it was sot under her rain? And they are so weak, too,—wimmen be. Why, old Error would take ’em by the nose” (Josiah, I think, is a practicin’ allegory. He uses flowery rhetoricks and simelys as much agin as he used to use ’em.) And he repeated agin, with a haughty look: “Old Error would take ’em by the nose, as it were, and lead ’em into all sorts of indiscretions, and weakness, and wickedness, before they knew it.

“Why, if we men of New York state had a woman’s incapability of grapplin’ with wrong, and overthrowin’ of it: if we had her love of scandal and gossip; if we had her extravagance and love of display, where would the glorious old state of New York be to-day? Where would her morals be? Where would her finankle and money affairs be?”

And Josiah leaned back in his chair, and crossed his legs over each other, as satisfied and contented a crossin’ as I ever see, and says agin:

“If I was ever proud and tickled about anything in my life, Samantha Allen, I am tickled to think I am a man.”

He had been readin’ a witherin’ piece out of the almanac to me—an awful deep, skareful piece aginst wimmen’s suffrage. And feelin’ cross and fractious, he did look so awful overbearin’ and humiliatin’ onto me, on account of my bein’ a woman, that I sprunted right up and freed my mind to him. I am very close-mouthed naturally, and say but very little, but I can’t stand everything.

While he was talkin’ I had been a fixin’ a new tow mop that I had been a spinnin’ into my patented mop-stick, and had jest got it done. And I riz right up and pinted with it at a picture of the new capitol at Albany that hung over the sink. It was a noble and commandin’ gesture (though hard to the wrist). It impressed him dretfully, I could see it did. I had that sort of a lofty way with me as I gestured, and went on in awful tones to say:

A MONUMENT OF MEN’S ECONOMY.

“When you look at that buildin’, Josiah Allen, no wonder you talk about wimmen’s extravagance and foolish love of display, and the econimy and firm common sense of the male voters of the state of New York, and their wise expenditure of public money. When you and a passel of other men get together and vote to build a house costin’ nine or ten millions of dollars to make laws in so small that wimmen might well be excused for thinkin’ they was made in a wood-shed or behind a barn-door.”

Says I, lowerin’ down my mop-stick, for truly my arm was weary—gesturin’ in eloquence with a mop-stick is awful fatiguin’—says I, “As long as that monument of man’s wisdom and econimy stands there, no man need to be afraid that a woman will ever dast to speak about wantin’ to have any voice in public affairs, any voice in the expenditure of her own property and income tax. No, she won’t dast to do it, for man’s thrifty, prudent common sense and superior econimy has been shown in that buildin’ to a extent that is fairly skareful.”

It is a damper onto anybody when they have been a talkin’ sarcastical and ironical, to have to come out and explain what you are a doin’. But I see that I had got to, for ever sense I had lowered my mop-stick and axent, Josiah had looked chirker and chirker, and now he sot there, lookin’ down at his almanac, as satisfied and important as a gander walkin’ along in front of nineteen new goslin’s. He thought I was a praisin’ men. And says I, comin’ out plain, “Look up here, Josiah Allen, and let me wither you with my glance! I am a talkin’ sarcastical, and would wish to be so understood!”

But I was so excited that before I had fairly got out of that ironical tone, I fell into it agin deeper than ever (though entirely unbeknown to me), and says I:

“As to woman’s love of gossip and scandal, and man’s utter aversion to it, let your mind fall back four years, Josiah Allen, if you think it is strong enough to bear the fall.”

And I went on in a still more ironicler tone. I don’t know as I ever see a more ironicler axent in my hull life than mine was as I went on, and says:

“How sweet it must be for men to look back and reflect on it, that while wimmen gloated over the details of that scandalous gossip, not a man throughout the nation ever gave it a thought. And while female wimmen, crazy and eager-eyed, stood in knots at their clubs and on street corners holdin’ each other by the bunnet-strings a talkin’ it over, and rushed eagerly to the post-office to try to get the latest details, how sweet to think that the manly editor all over the land stood up in man’s noble strength and purity, and with a firm eye on the public morals and the welfare of the young and innocent, and happily ignorant, refused to gratify woman’s rampent curiosity, and said nothing of the matter, not a word, in editorial or news column; but all through those long months filled up their pages with little moral essays, and cuttin’ articles on their hatred of gossip and scandal. And when, with unsatisfied, itchin’ ears, wives would question their husbands concernin’ the chief actors in the drama, their pure-minded husbands would rebuke them and say, ‘Cease, woman, to trouble me. We know them not. We have as yet spake no word upon the subject, and we will not be led into speakin’ of it by any woman, not even the wife of our youth’”youth’”

ON THE RAGGED EDGE.

Josiah looked meachener and meachener, till, as I got through, it seemed as if he had got to the very bounds of meach. He knew well how many times that old mare had gone to Jonesville for the last World, long before its time, so in hopes it would be a little ahead of its time, so he could get the latest gossip and scandal, and get ahead of old Gowdey, who took the Times, and old Cypher, who took the Sun. He knew jest how that post-office was fairly blocked up with men, pantin’ and sweaty with runnin’, every time the other mails come in. And he knew well, Josiah Allen did, how he and seven or eight other old Methodist brethren got to talkin’ about it so engaged out under the meetin’-house shed, one day, that they forgot themselves, and never come into meetin’ at all. And we wimmen sisters had to go out there to find ’em, after the meetin’ was over. He remembered it, Josiah Allen did, I see that by his mean.

UNDER THE MEETING-HOUSE SHED.

He didn’t say a word, but sot there smit and conscience-struck. And then I dropped my ironical tone, and took up my awful one, that I use a talkin’ on principle. I took up my very heaviest and awfulest one, as I resumed and continued on.

“I would talk if I was in your place, Josiah Allen, about wimmen’s ruinin’ old New York State if they voted. I would soar off into simelys if I was in your place, and talk about their bein’ led by the nose into wickedness—and grow eloquent over their weakness and inability to grapple with error—when ten hundred thousand male voters of the state stand with their hands in their pockets, or whittlin’ shingles, or tradin’ jack-knives, or readin’ almanacs, and etcetery, and let an evil go right on in their midst that would have disgraced old Sodom.

“Why, it is a wonder to me that the pure waters of old Oneida don’t fairly groan as they wash up on the shores that they can’t cleanse from this impurity, but would if they could, I know. She don’t approve of it, that old lake don’t—she don’t approve of anything of that kind, no more than I do. She and I and the other wimmen of the state would make short work of such iniquities if we had our say.

“But there them ten hundred thousand male voters stand, calm and happy, all round the Community, in rows and clusters; porin’ over almanacs, and whistlin’ new and various whistles (Josiah had broke out into a very curious whistle) and contemplate the sin with composure and contentment.

“And“And superintendents of Sabbath-schools and Young Men’s Christian Associations will make excursions to admire them and their iniquity, to imbibe bad thoughts and principles unconsciously, but certainly, as one inevitably must when they behold a crime masked in beauty, in garments of peace and order and industry. And railroad managers will carry the young, the easily-impressed, and the innocent at half price, so eager, seemin’ly, that they should behold sin wreathin’ itself in flowers, guilt arrayin’ itself in festal robes to lure the unwary footsteps.”

“Wall,” says Josiah, “I guess I’ll go out and milk.”

And I told him he had better.

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