Читать книгу Josiah Allen's Wife as a P. A. and P. I - Marietta Holley - Страница 8

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It was to the Jonesville Debatin’-School, that we first thought on’t. It was there that Josiah and me made up our 2 minds to go to Filadelfy village to see the Sentinal. They’ve had Debatin’-schools to Jonesville this winter, and as I was the only literary woman worth mentionin’, they made a great pint of havin’ me attend to ’em. I say the only literary woman,—Betsey Bobbet Slimpsey havin’ to work out so much that she has entirely left off writin’ poetry. She says she can’t go out washin’, and cleanin’ house, and makin’ soap, and write poetry at the same time, worth a cent. They have a awful hard time to git along. They both work out by the day, and they say that she has had to sell her tow frizzles and corneleun ring, and lots of her other nice things that she had to catch her husband with, in order to git along. Howsumever, I don’t know this; you can hear anything, such a lyin’ time, now-a-days—as I told Josiah, the other day. He says to me, says he:

“I won’t believe anything, Samantha, till I see it with my own eyes.”

And says I,—“I wont believe anything, Josiah Allen, till I have got holt of it.” Says I, “mists and black arts are liable to be cast before your eyes; but if you lay holt of anything with your two hands, you are pretty certain it is there.”

Never havin’ laid holt of her tow curls and other ornaments, as they was bein’ sold, I don’t tell it for certain truth, but only what I have hearn; but that they have a dretful hard time on’t to git along, that I know.

Besides poverty, the horrors lay holt of Slimpsey the worst kind. They shake him as a dog shakes a chipmunk. When he lived with his first wife he didn’t have ’em more’n a few times a month, or so; but now he has ’em every day, stiddy, right along. He yells at Betsey; goes to bed with his boots on; throws his hat at her, hollers, and keeps a actin’. He drinks, too, when he can git anything to drink. He says he drinks to forget his trouble; but what a simple move that is, for when he gits over it, there his trouble is, right before his eyes. There Betsey stands. Trouble is as black and troublesome again looked at through the glass, and topers find that it is; for they have the old trouble, all the same, besides shame and disgrace, and bodily ruination.

ALAS! POOR BETSEY.

Considerin’ what a dretful hard time Betsey has, it would seem to a bystander to calmly think on’t, that she didn’t git much of any comfort from her marriage, except the dignity she told me of the other night, with her own tongue as she was goin’ home from washin’, at Miss Gowdey’s. (Miss Gowdey had a felon and was disabled.) She had on a old hood, and one of her husband’s old coats with brass buttons—for it was a rainin’ and she didn’t care for looks. She was all drabbled up, and looked tired enough to sink. She had a piece of pork to pay her for her washin’, and a piller-case about half full of the second sort of flour a carryin’ along, that Miss Gowdey had give her; and as I happened to be a standin’ in the front door a lookin’ for my companion, Josiah,—who had gone to Jonesville to mill—we got to talkin’ about one thing and another, and she up and told me that she wouldn’t part with the dignity she got by marryin’, for 25 cents, much as she needed money. Though she said it was a worse trial than anybody had any idee of, for her to give up writin’ poetry.

So, as I was a sayin’, bein’ the only literary woman of any account in Jonesville, they made a great handlin’ of havin’ me present at their meetin’s, or at least, some of ’em did. Though as I will state and explain, the great question of my takin’ part in ’em, rent Jonesville almost to its very twain. Some folks hate to see a woman set up high and honored; they hate to, like a dog. It was gallin’ to some men’s pride, to see themselves passed by, and a female woman invited to take a part in the great “Creation Searchin’ Society,” or “Jonesville Lyceum.” I sometimes call it Debatin’-school, jest as I used to; but the childern have labored with me; they call it Lyceum, and so does Maggy Snow, and our son-in-law, Whitfield Minkley; (he and Tirzah Ann are married, and it is very agreeable to me and to Josiah, and to Brother and Sister Minkley; very!) Tirzah Ann told me it worked her up, to see me so old-fashioned as to call it Debatin’-school.

But says I calmly,—“Work up or not, I shall call it so when I forget the other name.”

And Thomas Jefferson labored with me, and jest as his way is, he went down into the reason and philosophy of things, knowin’ well what a case his mother is for divin’ deep into reason and first causes. That boy is dretful deep; he is comin’ up awful well. He is a ornament to Jonesville, as Lawyer Snow—Maggy’s father—told me, last fall. (That haint come off yet; but we are perfectly willin’ and agreeable on both sides, and it will probable take place before long. Thomas J. fairly worships the ground she walks on, and so she does hisen.)

Says Thomas J. to me, says he, “I haint a word to say ag’inst your callin’ it Debatin’-school, only I know you are so kinder scientific and philosophical, that I hate to see you usin’ a word that haint got science to back it up. Now this word Lyceum,” says he, “is derived from the dead languages, and from them that is most dead. It is from the Greek and Injun; a kind of a half-breed. Ly, is from the Greek, and signifies and means a big story, or, in other words, a falsehood; and ce-um is from the Injun; and it all means, ‘see ’em lie.’”

That boy is dretful deep; admired as he is by everybody, there is but few indeed that realize what a mind he has got. He convinced me right on the spot, and I make a practice of callin’ it so, every time I think of it. But as I told Tirzah Ann—work up or not, if they was mortified black as a coal, both of ’em, when I forgot that name I should call it by the old one.

THE EDITOR OF THE AUGER.

There has been a awful thorough study into things to the Debatin’-school, or Lyceum. It has almost skairt me sometimes, to see ’em go so deep into hard subjects. It has seemed almost like temptin’ Providence, to know so much, and talk so wise and smart as some of ’em have.

I was in favor of their havin’ ’em, from the very first on’t, and said openly, that I laid out to attend ’em; but I thought my soul, I should have to stay to home, the very first one. It commenced on a Tuesday night, and I had got my mind all worked up about goin’ to it; and I told the Widder Doodle, (Josiah’s brother’s wife, that is livin’ with us at present,) I told her in the afternoon, it would be a dretful blow to me if anything should happen to keep me to home; and I got a early breakfast, a purpose to get a early dinner, so’s to have a early supper, so’s to be ready to go, you know, sunthin’ as the poem runs:—“The fire begun to burn the stick, the stick begun to lick the kid, and the kid begun to go.”

Wall, before supper, I went up into the Widder Doodle’ses room to git my soap-stone, to put on the tank to have it a warmin’ for the ride; (I let the Widder have the soap-stone, nights, she havin’ no other companion, and bein’ lonesome, and troubled with cold feet. I do well by the Widder.) As I come down with it, all boyed up in my mind about what a edifyin’ and instructive time I was a goin’ to have, the Widder spoke up and says she:

“Josiah has jest been in, and he don’t know as he shall go to Jonesville, after all; he says the Editor of the Auger is sick.” He was to make the openin’ speech.

“What ails the Editor?” says I.

Says she,—“He has got the Zebra Spinner Magnetics.”

“Good land!” says I, “he wont never get over it, will he? I shouldn’t never expect to get well if I had that distemper, and I don’t know as I should want to. It must leave the system in a awful state.”

“Yes,” says Josiah, who had come in with an armful of wood, “the Editor is bad off; but Sister Doodle haint got it jest right; it is the Zebra Smilin’ Marcellus that has got a holt of him. Solomon Cypher told me about it when he went by on his saw log.”

“Wall,” says I coolly, “a few words, more or less, haint a goin’ to make or break a distemper. You both seem to be agreed and sot onto the Zebra, so s’posen we call it the Zebra, for short. Do you know whether he catched the Zebra, or whether it come onto him spontaneous, as it were? Anyway, I don’t believe he will ever git over it.”

And I sithed as I thought of the twins; he has had a sight of twins sense he married this woman; I never see such a case for twins, as the Editor is. And I sithed as I thought of every span of ’em; and the ma, and step-ma of ’em. I kep’ a sithin’, and says I:

“This distemper is a perfect stranger to me, Josiah Allen. Where does the Zebra take holt of anybody?”

Says he,—“The disease is in the backside of his neck, and the posterity part of his brain.”

And then I felt better. I felt well about the Editor of the Augers’es wife, and the twins. Says I in a cheerful voice:

“If the disease is in his brain, Josiah, I know he will have it light. I know they can quell it down easy.”

I knew well that there could be a large, a very large and interestin’ book made out of what the Editor didn’t know. The minute he told me the Zebra was in his brain, I knew its stay there would be short, for it wouldn’t find anything to support itself on, for any length of time. I felt well; my heart felt several pounds lighter than it had; for lightness of heart never seems so light, as it does after anybody has been carryin’ a little jag of trouble. It takes the little streaks of shadow to set off the sunshine. Life is considerable like a rag carpet, if you only look on it with the eye of a weaver. It is made up of dark stripes and light stripes, and sometimes a considerable number of threads of hit or miss; and the dark stripes set off the light ones, and make ’em look first rate. But I am allegorin’.

As I said, I felt relieved and cheerful, and I got supper on the table in a few minutes—the tea-kettle was all biled. After supper, I said to Josiah in cheerful axents:

“I guess we had better go to Jonesville, anyway, for my mind seems to be sot onto that Debatin’-school, and I don’t believe the Editor’s havin’ the Zebra will break it down at all; and I want to go to Tirzah Ann’s a few minutes; and we are about out of tea—there haint enough for another drawin’.”

Josiah said it wasn’t best to take the old mare out again that night, and he didn’t believe there would be a Debatin’-school, now the Editor had got the Zebra; he thought that would flat it all out.

I didn’t argue on that; I didn’t stand on the Zebra, knowin’ well, I had a keener arrer in my bow. I merely threw in this remark, in a awful dry tone:

“Very well, Josiah Allen; I can git along on sage tea, if you can; or, I can make crust coffee for breakfast.”

I calmly kep’ a braidin’ up my back hair, previous to doin’ it up in a wad, for I knew what the end thereof would be. My companion, Josiah, is powerfully attached to his tea, and he sot for a number of minutes in perfect silence, meditatin’—I knew by the looks of his face—on sage tea. I kep’ perfectly still and let him meditate, and wouldn’t have interrupted him for the world, for I knew that sage tea, and crust coffee, taken internally of the mind, (as it were,) was what was good for him jest then. And so it proved, for in about three minutes and a half, he spoke out in tones as sharp as a meat axe; some like a simetar:

“Wall! do git ready if you are a goin’. I never did see such cases to be on the go all the time, as wimmen be. But I shall go with the Bobs, jest as I come from the woods; I haint a goin’ to fuss to git out the sleigh to-night.”

He acted cross, and worrysome, but I answered him calmly, and my mean looked first rate as I said it:

“There is a great literary treat in front of me, to-night, Josiah Allen, and a few Bobs, more or less, haint a goin’ to overthrow my comfort, or my principles. No!” says I stoppin’ at my bed-room door, and wavin’ my right hand in a real eloquent wave; “no! no! Josiah Allen; the seekin’ mind, bent on improvin’ itself; and the earnest soul a plottin’ after the good of the race, Bobs has no power over. Such minds cannot be turned round in their glorious career by Bobs.”

A RIDE ON THE BOBS.

“Wall! wall!” he snapped out again, “do git ready. I believe wimmen would stop to talk and visit on their way to the stake.”

I didn’t say nothin’ back, but with a calm face I went into the bed-room and put on my brown alpaca dress; for I thought seein’ I had my way, I’d let him have his say, knowin’ by experience, that the last word would be dretful sort o’ comfortin’ to him. I had a soap-stone and plenty of Buffaloes, and I didn’t care if we did go on the Bobs, (or Roberts, I s’pose would be more polite to call ’em.) There was a good floor to ’em, and so we sot off, and I didn’t care a mite if I did feel strange and curious, and a good deal in the circus line; as if I was some first-class curiosity that my companion, Josiah, had discovered in a foreign land, and was carryin’ round his native streets for a side-show.

When we got to Jonesville, we found they was a goin’ to start the Debatin’-school, jest the same as if the Editor hadn’t got the Zebra. We went into Tirzah Ann’s a few minutes, and she give us a piece of fresh beef—Whitfield had jest bought a quarter—Josiah hadn’t killed yet. Beef is Josiah’s favorite refreshment, and I told him we would have it for dinner the next day. Josiah begun to look clever; and he asked me in affectionate and almost tender axents, if apple dumplin’s didn’t go first rate with roast beef and vegetables. I told him yes, and I would make some for dinner, if nothin’ happened. Josiah felt well; his worrysome feelin’s all departed from him. The storekeeper had jest opened an uncommon nice chest of tea, too. I never see a man act and look cleverer than my pardner did; he was ready to go anywhere, at any time.

We got to the school-house where it was held, in good season, and got a good seat, and I loosened my bunnet strings and went to knittin’. But, as I said, they was determined (some on ’em) that I should hold up one of the sides of the arguments; but of course, as could be expected in such a interestin’ and momentous affair, in which Jonesville and the world at large was so deeply interested, there was them that it galled, to see a woman git up so high in the world. There was them that said it would have a tendency to onsettle and break up the hull fabric of society for a woman to take part in such hefty matters as would be argued here. Some said it was a revolutionary idee, and not to be endured for half a moment of time; and they brought up arguments from the Auger—wrote by its Editor—to prove out that wimmen ortn’t to have no such privileges and honors. They said, as sick as the Editor was now, it would kill him if he should hear that the “Creation Searchin’ Society”—that he had labored so for—had demeaned itself by lettin’ a woman take part in it. They said as friends of the Editor, they wouldn’t answer for the shock on his nervous and other system. Neither would they answer for the consequences to Jonesville and the world—the direful consequences, sure to flow from liftin’ a female woman so far above her spear.

Their talk was scareful, very, and some was fearfully affected by it; but others was jest as rampant on the other side; they got up and defied ’em. They boldly brought forward my noble doin’s on my tower; how I had stood face to face with that heaven-honored man of peace, Horace Greely—heaven-honored and heaven-blest now—how he had confided in me; how my spectacles had calmly gazed into hisen, as we argued in deep debate concernin’ the welfare of the nation, and wimmen. How I had preserved Grant from perishin’ by poetry; how I had labored with Victory and argued with Theodore. They said such doin’s had rose me up above other wimmen; had lifted me so far up above her common spear, as to make me worthy of any honors the nation could heap onto me; made me worthy even to take a part in the “Jonesville Creation Searchin’ and World Investigatin’ Society.”

I let ’em fight it out, and didn’t say a word. They fit, and they fit; and I sot calmly there on my seat a knittin’ my Josiah’s socks, and let ’em go on. I knew where I stood in my own mind; I knew I shouldn’t git up and talk a word after they got through fightin’. Not that I think it is out of character for a woman to talk in public; nay, verily. It is, in my opinion, no more wearin’ on her throat, or her morals, to git up and talk to a audience for their amusement and edification, in a calm and collected voice, than it is for her to key up her voice and sing to ’em by the hour, for the same reason. But everybody has their particular fort, and they ort in my opinion to stick to their own forts and not try to git on to somebody else’es.

Now, influencin’ men’s souls, and keepin’ their morals healthy by words of eloquence, is some men’s forts. Nailin’ on good leather soles to keep their body’s healthy, is another man’s fort. One is jest as honorable and worthy as the other, in my opinion, if done in the fear of God and for the good of mankind, and follerd as a fort ort to be follerd. But when folks leave their own lawful forts and try to git on to somebody else’es fort, that is what makes trouble, and makes crowded forts and weak ones, and mixes things. Too many a gettin’ on to a fort at one time, is what breaks it down. My fort haint talkin’ in public, and I foller it up from day to day, as a fort ort to be follerd. So I was jest as cool as a cewcumber, outside and inside, and jest as lives see ’em go on makin’ consummit idiots of themselves as not, and ruther.

THE LYCEUM.

THE YOUNG NEPHEW.

It was enough to make a dog snicker and laugh (if he hadn’t deep principle to hold him back, as I had,) to see ’em go on. The President Cornelius Cork, and Solomon Cypher talked the most. They are both eloquent and almost finished speakers; but Solomon Cypher havin’ had better advantages than the President, of course goes ahead of him as an oriter. A nephew of hisen, P. Cypher Bumpus, old Philander Bumpus’es only boy, (named after his father, and uncle Cypher,) has been there to his uncle’s givin’ him lessons all winter, in elocution and dramatic effects. Solomon has give him his board for tutorin’ him.

I s’pose P. Cypher Bumpus can’t be beat on elocution; he’s studied hard, and took lessons of some big elocutionists, and they say he can holler up as loud, and look as wild as the biggest of ’em, and dwindle his voice down as low, and make as curious motions as the curiousest of ’em. Besides, he has took up lots in his own head. He is very smart, naturally, and has stood by his uncle Solomon all winter, like a Major. And considerin’ Solomon’s age, and his natural mind—which haint none of the best—and his lameness, I never see a man make such headway as Solomon Cypher has. He can make eloquent and impressive gestures, very.

Cornelius Cork, the President, they say has been a tryin to learn himself; has tried to take gestures and motions up in his own head; but bein’ a poor man and not bein’ able to hire a teacher, of course he don’t make much headway; don’t git along nigh so well. He haint got but one gesture broke in so he can handle it to any advantage, and that is: pointin’ his forefinger at the audience, with the rest of his hand shet up; dartin’ it out sometimes, as if it was a bayonet he was goin’ to run through their hearts; and sometimes holdin’ it back, and takin’ a more distant and deliberate aim with it, as if it was a popgun he kep’ by him to shoot down congregations with. That is all he has got at present; but truly, he does the best he can, with what he has to do with. It don’t scare the audience so much I s’pose as he thinks it ort to, and he probable gits discouraged; but he ort to consider that he can’t show off much in gestures, while Solomon Cypher is livin’. A kerosine lamp can’t show off to any advantage when the sun gits up. But the President done well as I said, with what he had to do with. He pinted that forefinger almost threatningly in every direction, from Zenith to Nathan, as he went on to say: he hadn’t no personal objections to Josiah Allen’s wife, “fur frummit.”

THE ONE GESTURE.

Cornelius Cork bein’ a poor man, and shackled with the support of four maiden sisters of his own, and a mother-in-law and a grandmother-in-law of his wife’s, besides a large family of childern of their own, haint never felt able to own a dictionary, and so he pronounces by ear, and makes mistakes. But considerin’ his circumstances and shackles, I don’t think he ort to be run down for it. It makes it very bad, sometimes, for Solomon Cypher, for he bein’ so took up with gestures and motions, and bein’ one easy led astray by them that are in high office, he follers on blindly after the President and uses lots of words he wouldn’t dremp of usin’, if he hadn’t heerd the President use ’em. It makes it bad for Solomon, very.

The President repeated the words again, with dignity and emphasis: “fur frummit.” He trusted he realized too well whose tower it was, that bein’ gone off on, had lifted Jonesville fur up above surroundin’ nations; had lifted it high up on fame’s towerin’ pillow, and shed a lurid light on the housen thereof. He trusted he was too familiar with that noble book of hern, of which he had read the biggest heft, and was calculatin’ to tackle the rest of it if he lived long enough. And he had said, and he said still, that such a book as that, was liable to live and go down to Posterity, if Posterity didn’t git shiftless and hang off too long. And if anybody said it wasn’t liable to, he called ’em “traitor, to the face; traitor to Jonesville; traitor to Josiah Allen’s wife; traitor to Josiah.”

His face got red as blood, and he sweat considerable, he talked so hard, and got so excited, and pointed that forefinger so powerful and frequent at the audience, as if he was—in spirit—shootin’ ’em down like wild turkeys.

Jest as quick as he collected breath enough, he went on to say that though nobody could go ahead of him in honorin’ that esteemable woman, still he sot principle up in his mind above any other female; higher even than Josiah Allen’s wife. It was solid principle he was upholdin’; the principle of the male sex not bein’ infringed upon; that was his stand. Says he, “For a female woman to talk in public on such momentous and weighty subjects—subjects that weigh I don’t know what they wont weigh but this I know: every one will be hefty;—for a female woman to talk on those deep and perhaps awful subjects as they are a bein’ brung up, would have a dangerous tendency to make a woman feel as if she was equal to man. It would have a tendency to infringe on him; and if there is anything a man can’t, nor wont stand, it is infringin’. And it would also bring her into too close contract with him; and so, on them grounds, as a Latin author observes in a similar case: ‘I deny her the right in tato toto.’”

That was Latin, and I s’pose he thought it would scare me, but it didn’t a mite; for I don’t s’pose he knew what it meant no more’n I did. I bound off my heel with composure. But the excitement was fearful; no sooner would them on one side make a motion, than them on the other side would git up and make a different motion. You know when sheep go to jumpin’ over the fence, if one goes, they all want to go. There was the awfulest sight of motions made, I ever see; everybody was jumpin’ up and makin’ ’em. Why, one spell, I had to lay holt of Josiah Allen and hold him down by main strength, or he’d been up a makin’ ’em; he wanted to, and tried to, but I laid holt of him and argued to him. Says I:

“Let ’em fight it out; don’t you make a single motion, Josiah Allen.”

And Josiah, feelin’ clever, consented not to, and sot still, and I went to knittin’ again. But it was a scene of almost fearful confusion, and excitement. No sooner had the President sot down, sayin’ he denied me the right “in tato toto,” than Simon Slimpsey got up (with difficulty) and says he, in a almost thick tone:

“I think taint best to give her the potato.”

He had been a drinkin’ and didn’t know what he was sayin’. He sot down again right off—had to—for he couldn’t stand up. But as he kinder fell back on his seat, he kep’ a mutterin’ that “she didn’t ort to have the potato give her; she didn’t know enough to plant the tater, or hoe it—she hadn’t ort to have it.”

Nobody minded him. But Solomon Cypher jumped up, and says he, smitin’ his breast with his right hand:

“I motion she haint no right to talk.” And again he smote his breast almost severely.

“I motion you tell on what grounds you make the motion!” says the Editor of the Gimlet, jumpin’ up and throwin’ his head back nobly.

“I motion you set down again,” says the President,—takin’ aim at him as if he was a mushrat—“I motion you set down and give him a chance to git up and tell why he made the motion.”

So the Editor of the Gimlet sot down, and Solomon Cypher riz up:

“I stand on this ground,” (says he, stampin’ down his right foot,) “and on this ground I make my motion:” (says he, stampin’ down his left one, and smitin’ himself a almost dangerous blow in the breast,) “that this society haint no place for wimmen. Her mind haint fit for it; ‘fur frummit,’ as my honored friend, the President observes,—‘fur frummit.’ There is deep subjects a goin’ to be brung up here, that is all my mind can do, to rastle with and throw ’em; and for a female woman’s mind to tackle ’em, it would be like settin’ a pismire to move a meetin’ house. Wimmen’s minds is weak.”

Here he smote himself a fearful blow right in the pit of his stomach, and repeated the words slowly and impressively:

“Wimmen’s minds is weak. But this haint the main reason why I make my motion. My main reason is, that I object, and I always will—while I have got a breath left in my body—object to the two sexes a comin’—as my honored friend the President says—‘in such close contract with each other, as they would have to if wimmen took any part with men in such public affairs.’ Keep separate from each other! that is my ground, and that is my motion. Keep wimmen off as fur as you can, if you would be safe and happy. Men has their place,” says he,—stridin’ forred a long step with his right foot, and stretchin’ up his right arm nobly towards the sky as fur as he could with safety to his armpit—“and wimmen has hern!”—steppin’ back a long step with his left foot, and pintin’ down with his left hand, down through a hole in the floor, into the cellar—“and it is necessary for the public safety,” says he,—a smitin’ his breast, first with his right hand and then with his left—“that he keep hisen, and she hern. As the nation and individuals are a goin’ on now, everything is safe.” (Here he stopped and smiled.) “The nation is safe.” (Another smile.) “And men and wimmen are safe, for they don’t come in contract with each other.” (Here he stopped and smiled three times.) “But if wimmen are ever permitted in the future to take any part in public affairs; if they are ever permitted to come in contract with man, and bring thereby ruin, deep, deadly ruin onto Jonesville and the world, I want Jonesville and the world to remember that I have cleared my coat-skirts in the matter. I lift ’em out of the fearful and hazardous enterprise.”

He had an old-fashioned dress coat on, with long skirts, that come most to the floor, and as he said this, he lifted ’em up with a almost commandin’ air, as if he was a liftin’ ’em out of black mud. He lifted ’em right up, and they stood out in front of his arms, some like wings; and, as he stood lookin’ round the audience, in this commandin’ and imposin’ position, he repeated the words in a more lofty and majestic tone:

A THRILLIN’ MOMENT.

“I clear my coat-skirts of the hull matter. You see me clear ’em. None of the bloody ruin can be laid onto my coat-skirts.”

It was a thrillin’ moment. It had a terribly depressin’ effect on a great many lovers of justice and wimmen’s votin’, who was present. They see the dangers hedgin’ in the enterprise, as they never see ’em before. They see the power of the foe they was fightin’ ag’inst, and trembled and quailed before him. But though I realized well what was a goin’ on before me, though I knew what a deadly blow he was a givin’ to the cause, I held firm, and kep’ a cool mean, and never thought for half a moment of givin’ up my shield. And then I knew it wasn’t so much his words—although they was witherin’—as his lofty majesty of bearin’, that influenced the almost breathless audience. He stood in that commandin’ posture, I have described, for I should judge, nearly one moment and a half, and then he repeated the words:

“For I say unto you,”—and here he dropped his coat-skirts suddenly, and struck himself in the breast a sudden and violent blow with his thumb,—the fingers all standin’ out straight, like the bones of a fan—“for I say unto you; and if these are the last words you shall ever hear from my humble but perfectly honorable mouth,—remember, Jonesville and the world, that I died a sayin’, beware of the female pole.”

I never in my hull life heerd a pole sound so faint and sickly as that pole did. It dwindled away almost to nothin’, and he kinder shet his eyes up and sallied away, as if he was a goin to die off himself. It skairt some of the wimmen most to death, it was so impressive; but I knew it was all the effect of high trainin’; I knew he would come to in a minute, and he did. Pretty soon he kinder repeated the words, in a sickly tone:

“Remember, I died a sayin’: beware of the female pole. Beware! beware!!”

And oh, how skairt them wimmen was again; for he straightened right up and yelled out them two bewares, like a couple of claps of thunder; and his eyes kep’ a growin’ bigger and bigger, and his voice grew louder and louder, till it seemed as if it would raise the very ruff—though it had jest been new shingled, (cost the deestrick 20 dollars,)—and he looked round the audience as wise as any owl I ever laid eyes on, and struck himself a very fearful blow with his thumb, right on his stomach, and says he:

“Beware of bein’ infringed upon!”—and then followed another almost dangerous blow—“Beware of that terrible and fearful day, when men and wimmen shall come in contract with each other.”

He stopped perfectly still, looked all round the house with that wise and almost owl-like look on him, and then in a slow, impressive, and eloquent manner, he raised his hands and struck his breast bone with both thumbs and sot down. Some of the speakers seemed to be real envious of his gestures, but they ort to have considered that it was all in knowin’ how; it was all in practice. He’d probably studied on every motion for days and days, and they hadn’t ort to have begreched ’em so to him. But if he hadn’t never studied on elocution and impressive gesturin’; if he hadn’t looked a mite like an owl for solemnity and wisdom, his talk would have been dretful impressive and scareful to some, he painted it all out in such high colors, what a terrible and awful thing it would be for the two sects to ever come in “contract with each other.” I s’pose he meant contact,—I haint a doubt of it.

SUNDAY SLUMBERS.

Why, to have heerd him go on, if there had been a delegate present to the “Creation Searchin’ Society,” from the moon—or any other world adjacent to Jonesville—he wouldn’t have had any idee that men and wimmen had ever got any nearer to each other than from half to three-quarters of a mile. I s’pose I never could have made that foreigner believe, if I had talked myself blind, that, for all Solomon Cypher showed such deadly fear of men comin’ in “contract” with wimmen, he had lived with one forty years; drinked out of the same dipper; slept together Sundays in the same pew of the same meetin’ house; and brought up a big family of childern together, which belonged to both on ’em.

Howsumever, them was the facts of the case; but I let him go on, for principle held me down, and made me want to know how it would end; whether freedom, and the principles of our 4 fathers would triumph, or whether they would be quirled up like caterpillers, and be trod on.

I knew in my mind I shouldn’t git up and talk, not if they voted me in ten times over, for reasons that I give more formally; and besides them reasons, I was lame, and had ruther set and knit, for Josiah needed his socks; and I have always said, and I say still, that a woman ort to make her family comfortable, before she tackles the nation, or the heathen, or anything.

So they kep’ on a fightin’, and I kep’ on a knittin’; and upheld by principle, I never let on but what I was dyin’ to git up and talk. They got awful worked up on it; they got as mad as hens, every one on ’em, all but Josiah. He sot by me as happy as you please, a holdin’ my ball of yarn. He acted cleverer than he had in some time; he was awful clever and happy; and so was I; we felt well in our 2 minds, as we sot there side by side, while the fearful waves of confusion and excitement, and Cornelius Cork and Solomon Cypher, was a tostin’ to and fro about us.

And oh, how happyfyin’ and consolin’ and satisfyin’ to the mind it is, when the world is angry and almost mad at you, to set by the side of them you are attached to by links considerable stronger than cast iron. In the midst of the wildest tempests, you feel considerable safe, and some composed. No matter if you don’t speak a word to them, nor they to you, their presence is sufficient; without ’em, though you may be surrounded by admirin’ congregations, there is, as the poet says, “a goneness;” the biggest crowds are completely unsatisfactory, and dwindle down to the deepest lonesomeness. Though the hull world should be a holdin’ you up, you would feel tottlin’ and lonesome, but the presence of the one beloved, though he or she—as the case may be—may not be hefty at all, still is large enough to fill a meetin’ house, or old space himself without ’em; and truly, when heart leans upon heart, (figgeratively speakin’) there is a rest in it that feather beds cannot give, neither can they take away. My companion Josiah’s face shines with that calm, reposeful happiness, when he is in my society, and I—although I know not why I do—experience the same emotions in hisen.

Finally, at half past eleven—and they was completely tuckered out on both sides—the enemies of wimmen’s suffragin’ and justice, kinder all put together and brought in a motion, Solomon Cypher bein’ chief bearer and spokesman of the procession. They raised him up to this prominent position, because he was such a finished speaker. The motion was clothed upon in eloquent and imaginative language. Solomon Cypher never got it up alone. Cornelius Cork, and the Editor of the Auger, and probable two or three others had a hand in it, and helped git it up. It had a almost thrillin’ effect on the audience; though, by jest readin’ it over, nobody can git any clear idee how it sounded to hear Solomon Cypher declaim it forth with appropriate and impressive gestures, and a lofty and majestic expression onto him. This was the motion:

“Be it resolved over, and motioned at, and acted upon by us, ‘Creation Searchers and World Investigators,’ that wimmen’s body and mind, are both of ’em, as much too weak and feeble to tackle the subjects that will be brung up here, as a span of pismires are, to lay to and move a meetin’ house.”

After he had finished makin’ the motion, he stood a moment and a half lookin’ round on the audience with a smile on his lips, while such is the perfect control he has got by hard practice over his features, that at the same time his mouth was a smilin’, there was a severe and even gloomy expression on the upper part of his face, and an empty and vacant look in his eyes. Then he smote himself meaningly and impressively in the pit of his stomach, and sot down. And then, as it was considerable still for a moment, I spoke calmly out of my seat to the Editor of the Gimlet, who happened to be a standin’ near, and thanked him and the others on his side, for their labors in my behalf, and told ’em I hadn’t no idee of takin’ part in their Debatin’-school, (I called it so before I thought,) and hadn’t had, none of the time. And then, with a calm and collected mean onto me, I knit in the middle of my needle, and Josiah wound up my ball of yarn, and we started for home.

EDITOR OF THE GIMLET.

But I wasn’t goin’ to stay away from the Debatin’-school because they looked down on the female sect and felt awful kinder contemptible towards ’em. Other folks’es opinions of us hadn’t ort to influence us ag’inst them. Because a person is prejudiced ag’inst me, and don’t like me, that haint no reason why I shouldn’t honor what good qualities she has, and respect what is respectable in him. (I don’t know jest how to git the sect down, to git it right. I calculate to be very exact, as strict and scientific as a yard-stick, even in the time of allegorin’; but havin’ so much work, and the Widder Doodle on my hands, I haint studied into it so deep as I had ort to, whether a Debatin’-school, in the times of allegorin’, should be called a he, or a she.)

But howsumever, as I said, I laid out to be present at ’em, jest the same. And it was to this Debatin’-scho—I mean Lyceum, that the idee first entered my head, of goin’ to Filadelfy village to see the Sentinal; of which, more hereafter, and anon.