Читать книгу Samantha at Coney Island, and a Thousand Other Islands - Marietta Holley - Страница 11

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59

CHAPTER FOUR

WE ENJOY THE HOSPITALITIES OF WHITFIELD’S AUNT’S BOARDIN’-HOUSE AT THE PARK, AND MY PARDNER GOES A-FISHIN’

Whitfield’s aunt kep’ a small boardin’-house at the Park. Of course we knew it would be fur more genteel to go to the hotel, which loomed up stately, settin’ back on its green lawn right in front of us, as the ship swep’ into the harbor.

But Josiah sez, “The tender ties of relationship hadn’t ort to, in fact musn’t be broke by us, and Miss Dagget would probable feel dretful hurt if she knowed we wuz to the Park and had passed her coldly by.” (She didn’t ask half so much for our boards as the hotel did; that wuz where the boot pinched on my pardner’s old feet.)

Whitfield said we had better go to Aunt Dagget’s that night anyway, so we went. We found she lived in a good-lookin’ cottage, and we had everything we needed for comfort. She wuz a tall, scrawny woman, with good 60 principles and a black alpacky dress, too tight acrost the chest, but she seemed glad to see us and got a good supper, broiled steak, creamed potatoes, and cake, and such, and we all did justice to it—yes indeed.

After supper we walked out to the post office, and round in front of the houses—very sociable and nigh together they are. It must be dretful easy to neighbor there, most too easy. Why, I don’t see how a woman can talk to her husband on duty, if he goes in his stockin’ feet, or stays out late nights, or acts; I don’t see how she can do the subject justice and not have everybody in the encampment know it. Too neighborly by fur!

But off some little distance, good-lookin’ houses stood with Seclusion and Solitude guardin’ their front doors—likely guards them be, and beloved by Samantha. And back of the Island, glancin’ through the trees, wuz the same clear blue sparklin’ waters of the St. Lawrence. They said they wuz Canada waters, but I didn’t see no difference, the water wuz jest as blue and sparklin’ and clear.

We retired early and our beds wuz quite comfortable, though as I told Josiah, I had seen bigger pillers, and I wuz more settled in my 61 mind, as to whether the feathers in ’em wuz geese or hen.

He said he wuz glad to lay his head down on anything that would hold it up.

And after I remembered that Miss Dagget’s bed wuz jest the other side of the thin board partition. I sez, “Yes, Josiah, with weariness and a easy conscience, any bed will seem soft as downy pillows are.”

The next day I felt pretty mauger and stayed in my room most of the time, though Josiah and the children sallied round considerable. But after supper I felt better and went out and set down on the piazza that run along the front of the house, and looked round and enjoyed myself first rate.

Way off, between the trees and between the houses, I could see the dear old Saint meanderin’ along, blue and gold colored where the sun struck the shining surface. And, dearer sight to me, I could catch a glimpse through the interstices of the trees, of my beloved pardner and little Delight in her white dress and flutterin’ blue ribbons walkin’ along by his side. Whitfield and Tirzah Ann had gone santerin’ off some time before.

The hour and the seen wuz both beautiful 62 and soothin’. The little streets between the houses stretched out on every side, some on ’em bordered with trees. Gay awnings wuz over the doors and winders, flowering shrubs and posies set off the yards, and the piazzas ornamented by the good-lookin’ folks settin’ out on chairs and benches, the wimmen in light, pretty summer gowns, and there wuz babies in their perambulators perambulatin’ along and pretty children runnin’ and playin’ about.

Anon or oftener a group of good-lookin’ cottagers would sally out of their houses and santer along, or a pedestrian in a hurry would walk by. It seemed like the land where it is always afternoon, that I’d hearn Thomas J. read about,

The island valley of Avilion, Where falls not rain or hail or any snow, Nor ever wind blows loudly— Deep meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns And bowery hollows, crowned by summer sea.

It wuz a fair seen! a fair seen! and my soul seemed attuned to its perfect harmony and peace. When all of a sudden I hearn these strange and skairful words comin’ like a sharp shower of hail from a clear June sky:—

“Malviny is goin’ to freeze to-night!” 63

There wuz a skairful axent on the word “freeze” that seemed to bring all of Malviny’s sufferin’s right in front of me. But so strong is my common sense that even in that agitatin’ time I thought to myself, as I wiped the perspiration from my foretop, “Good land! what is Malviny made of to be even comfortable cool to say nothin’ of freezin’.” And my next thought wuz, “What sort of a place have I got into?” Truly, I had read much of the hardenin’ effects of fashion and style, but I little thought they would harden so fearful hard. None of these men and wimmen settin’ on them piazzas had gin any more attention to the blood-curdlin’ news that a feller creeter so nigh ’em wuz perishin’, no more than if they’d seen a summer leaf flutterin’ down from the boughs overhead.

I thought of the rich man and Lazarus, only kinder turned round and freezin’ instead of burnin’. I felt bad and queer. But anon he drew nigh the porch I wuz settin’ on and looked up into my face with the same harrowin’ statement, “Malviny is a-goin’ to freeze to-night!”

And I said, with goose pimples runnin’ down my back most as bad as I mistrusted as Malviny had, “Who is Malviny?” 64

He stopped and sez, “She is my wife.”

His indifferent mean madded me and I sez, “Well, you good-for-nothin’ snipe you, instead of traipsin’ all over the neighborhood tellin’ of your wife’s state, why hain’t you to home buildin’ a fire and heatin’ soap stuns and bricks, and steepin’ pepper tea?”

“What for?” sez he, amazed like.

“Why, to keep Malviny from freezin’.”

“I don’t want to stop it,” sez he.

Sez I, “Do you want your wife to freeze?”

“Yes,” sez he.

Sez I, lookin’ up and apostophrizin’ the clear sky that looked down like a big calm blue eye overhead, “Are such things goin’ on here in a place so good that folks can’t git a letter Sundays to save their lives, or embark to see their friends if they’re dyin’ or dead; is such a place,” I groaned, “to condone such wickedness!”

Sez the man, “What harm is there in Malviny’s freezin’?”

Sez I, “You heartless wretch, you! if I wuz a man I’d shake some of the wickedness out of you, if I had to be shot up the minute afterwards!”

“What harm is there in freezin’ ice-cream?” sez he. 65

Sez I, astounded, “Is that what Malviny’s freezin’?”

“Yes,” sez he.

I sunk back weak as a cat.

Sez he, “I bring it round to the cottages every time Malviny freezes; they give me their orders if they want any.”

“Well,” sez I in a faint voice, “I don’t want any.” Truly I felt that I had had enough chill and shock for one day.

Well, Whitfield and Tirzah Ann come in pretty soon and she wuz all enthused with the place. They’d been up the steep windin’ way to Sunrise Mountain, and gazed on the incomparable view from there. Looked right down into the wind-kissed tops of the lofty trees and all over ’em onto the broad panaroma of the river, with its innumerable islands stretched out like a grand picture painted by the one Great Artist. They had seen the little artist’s studio, perched like a eagle’s nest on top of the mountain. Some dretful pretty pictures there, both on the inside of the studio and outside.

And they had stopped at the Indian camp, and Tirzah bought some baskets which they see the Indians make right before their eyes out of the long bright strips of willow. And I spoze, 66 seein’ the brown deft fingers weavin’ their gay patterns, Tirzah Ann wuz carried back some distance into the land of romance and Cooper’s novels, and “Lo the Poor Indian” Stories. She’s very romantick.

And she’d gone into the place where they blow glass right before your eyes and then cut your name on it. I couldn’t do it to save my life. I might jest as well give right up if I wuz told that I had got to blow jest a plain bottle out of some sand and stuff. And they blow out the loveliest, queerest things you ever see: ships in full sail with the ropes and riggin’ of the most delicate and twisted strands of brilliancy; tall exquisite vases with flowers twisted all about ’em. Posies of all kinds, butterflies, cups, tumblers, etc. They had been into all the little art and bookstores, full of pictures and needle work, shells, painted stuns, books, and the thousand and one souvenirs of all kinds of the Thousand Islands. When Josiah come in he said he had interviewed ten or a dozen men about Coney Island—all on ’em had been there—I wuz discouraged, I thought I might jest as well let him loose with Serenus.

Well, Whitfield of course couldn’t wait another minute, without seein’ Shadow Island, 67 so the next day we went over there right after dinner. Josiah proposed enthusiastickly to fish on the way there. Sez he, “Samantha, how I do wish we could git a periouger to go in.”

“A what?” sez I.

“A periouger,” sez he, “that we could go fishin’ in, a very uneek boat.”

“Uneek!” sez I, “I should think as much. Where did you ever ever hear on’t?”

“In Gasses Journal, Gass used to go round in ’em.”

Sez I, “That book wuz published before George Washington wuz born, or Bunker Hill thought on.”

“What of it?” sez he; “that wouldn’t hender a periouger from bein’ a crackin’ good convenience to go round on the water in, and I’m goin’ to try to git one to-day. I bet my hat they have ’em to Coney Island.”

I tried to stop him. I didn’t want him to demean himself before the oarsmen and onlookers by tryin’ to find boats that hadn’t been hearn on in hundreds of years. But I couldn’t git the idea out of his head till after dinner. Then he wuz more meller and inclined to listen to reason. It wuz a oncommon good meal, and he felt quite softened down in his mean by the time he finished. And Whitfield’s boatman he’d engaged come with a good sizeable boat and we sot sail for Shadow Island.