Around the World with Josiah Allen's Wife by Marietta Holley (ereader with dictionary .TXT) đź“•
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- Author: Marietta Holley
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Tommy wuz tired out and I had to take him in my arms and rock him, after we’d had our supper, a good meal which Miss Meechim had brung up into their settin’-room, though I insisted on payin’ my part on’t (she’s a good creater, though weak in some ways). Well I rocked Tommy and sung to him:
“Sweet fields beyend the swellin’ flood.”
And them sweet fields in my mind wuz our own orchard and paster, and the swellin’ flood I thought on wuzn’t death’s billers, but the waters that rolled between California and Jonesville.
Not one word had I hearn from my pardner sence leavin’ New York.
“Oh, dear Josiah! When shall I see thee agin?” So sung my heart, or ruther chanted, a deep solemn chant. “Where art thou, Josiah, and when shall we meet agin? And why, why do I not hear from thee?”
The next mornin’ after we arrived at San Francisco, Robert Strong appeared at the hotel bright and early, and I don’t know when I’ve ever seen anybody I liked so well. Miss Meechim invited me into her settin’-room to see him.
Havin’ hearn so much about his deep, earnest nater and deathless desire to do all the good he could whilst on his earthly pilgrimage, I expected to see a grave, quiet man with lines of care and conflict engraved deep on his sober, solemn visage.
But I wuz never more surprised to see a bright, laughin’, 66 happy face that smiled back into mine as Albina Meechim proudly introduced her nephew to me.
Why, thinkses I to myself, where can such strength of character, such noble purpose, such original and successful business habits be hidden in that handsome, smilin’ face and them graceful, winnin’ ways, as he laughed and talked with his aunt and Dorothy.
But anon at some chance word of blame and criticism from Miss Meechim, makin’ light of his City of Justice and its inhabitants, a light blazed up in his eyes and lit up his face, some as a fire in our open fireplace lights up the spare-room, and I see stand out for a minute on the background of his fair handsome face a picture of heroism, love, endeavor that fairly stunted me for a time. And I never felt afterwards anything but perfect confidence in him; no matter how light and trifling wuz his talk with Dorothy, or how gay and boyishly happy wuz his clear laughter.
He had worked well and faithful, givin’ his hull mind and heart to his endeavor to do all the good he could, and now he wuz bound to play well, and git all the good and rest he could out of his play spell. And I hadn’t been with ’em more’n several hours before I thought that I had seen further into his heart and hopes and intentions than Miss Meechim had in all her born days.
Robert Strong, before he went away, invited us all to go and see his City of Justice, and we agreed with considerable satisfaction to do so, or at least I did and I spoze the rest did. Miss Meechim would be happy in any place where her nephew wuz, that you could see plain, as much as she disapproved of his methods. Dorothy, I couldn’t see so plain what she did think, she bein’ one that didn’t always let her lips say everything her heart felt, but she used Robert real polite, and we all had a real agreeable visit.
Robert got a big carriage and took us all out driving that afternoon, Miss Meechim and I settin’ on the back seat, and Robert and Dorothy facing us, and Tommy 67 perched on Robert’s knee; Tommy jest took to him, and visey-versey. Robert thought he wuz just about the brightest little boy he had ever seen, and Tommy sot there, a little pale but happy, and wonnered about things, and Robert answered all his “wonners” so fur as he could.
We drove through beautiful streets lined with elegant houses, and the dooryards wuz a sight. Think of my little scraggly geraniums and oleanders and cactuses I’ve carried round in my hands all winter and been proud on. And then think of geranium and oleander trees just as common as our maples and loaded with flowers. And palm and bananna trees, little things we brood over in our houses in the winter, and roses that will look spindlin’ with me, do the best I can, in December, all growin’ out-doors fillin’ the air with fragrance.
Robert Strong said we must go to the Cliff House, and Tommy wanted to see the seals.
Poor things! I felt bad to see ’em and to think there wuz a war of extermination tryin’ to be waged aginst ’em, because they interfered with the rights of a few. One of the most interesting animals on the Western continent! It seems too bad they’re tryin’ to wipe ’em out of existence because the fishermen say they eat a sammon now and then. Why shouldn’t they who more than half belong to the water-world once in a great while have a little taste of the good things of that world as well as to have ’em all devoured by the inhabitants of dry land? And they say that the seals eat sharks too––I should think that that paid for all the good fish they eat. But to resoom. Tommy didn’t think of the rights or the wrongs of the seals, he had no disquietin’ thoughts to mar his anticipations, but he wonnered if he could put his hands through ’em like he could his ma’s seal muff. He thought that they wuz muffs, silk lined––the idee! And he “wonnered” a sight when he see the great peaceable lookin’ creeters down in the water and on the rocks, havin’ a good time, so fur as we could see, in their 68 own world, and mindin’ their own bizness; not tryin’ to git ashore and kill off the fishermen, because they ketched so many sammons. And Tommy had to feed the seals and do everything he could do, Robert Strong helpin’ him in everything he undertook, and he “wonnered” if they would ever be changed into muffs, and he “wonnered” if they would like to be with “ribbon bows on.”
At my request we went through Lone Mountain Cemetery, a low mountain rising from the sandy beach full of graves shaded by beautiful trees and myriads of flowers bending over the silent sleepers, the resistless sea washing its base on one side––just as the sea of Death is washing up aginst one side of Life––no matter how gay and happy it is.
We rode home through a magnificent park of two thousand acres. Money had turned the sandy beach into a wealth of green lawns, beautiful trees and myriads of flowers. I had always sposed that them Eastern Genis in the “Arabian Nights” had palaces and things about as grand and luxurious as they make, but them old Genis could have got lots of pinters in luxury and grand surroundin’s if they’d seen the homes of these nabobs in the environins of San Francisco. No tongue can tell the luxury and elegance of them abodes, and so I hain’t a goin’ to git out of patience with my tongue if it falters and gins out in the task.
The next mornin’ while Miss Meechim and Dorothy wuz to the lawyers, tendin’ to that bizness of hern and gittin’ ready for their long tower, Robert Strong took me through one of them palaces. It stood only a little distance from the city and wuz occupied by one old gentleman, the rest of the family havin’ died off and married, leavin’ him alone in his glory. Well said, for glory surrounded the hull spot.
There wuz three hundred acres, all gardens and lawns and a drivin’ park and a park full of magestick old live oaks, and acres and acres of the most beautiful flowers and all the choicest fruit you could think of.
The great stately mansion was a sight to go through––halls, libraries, gilded saloons, picture galleries, reception halls lined with mirrors, billiard rooms, bowling alleys, whatever that may be, dining rooms, with mirrors extending from the floor to the lofty ceilin’s.
I wondered if the lonely old occupant ever see reflected in them tall mirrors the faces of them who had gone from him as he sot there at that table, like some Solomon on his throne. But all he had to do wuz to press his old foot on a electric bell under the table, and forty servants would enter. But I’dno as he’d want ’em all––I shouldn’t––it would take away my appetite, I believe. Twenty carriages of all kinds and thirty blooded horses wuz in his stables, them stables bein’ enough sight nicer than any dwellin’ house in Jonesville.
But what did that feeble old man want of twenty carriages? To save his life he couldn’t be in more than one 70 to a time; and I am that afraid of horses, I felt that I wouldn’t swap the old mair for the hull on ’em.
At my strong request we made a tower one day to see Stanford University, that immense schoolhouse that is doin’ so much good in the world; why, good land! it is larger than you have any idee on; why, take all the schoolhouses in Jonesville and Loontown and Zoar and put ’em all together, and then add to them all the meetin’ houses in all them places and then it wouldn’t be half nor a quarter so big as this noble schoolhouse.
And the grounds about it are beautiful, beautiful! We wuz shown through the buildin’, seein’ all the helps to learning of all kinds and the best there is in the world. And how proud I felt to think what one of my own sect had done in that great werk. How the cross of agony laid on her shoulders had turned to light that will help guide over life’s tempestenus ten millions yet onborn. And I sez: “How happy young Leeland must be to know his death has done such grand work, and to see it go on.”
“Why,” sez Meechim, “how could he see it? He’s dead.”
Sez I: “Don’t you spoze the Lord would let him see what a great light his death has lit up in the werld. In my opinion he wuz right there to-day lookin’ at it.”
“That is impossible,” sez she. “If he wuz there we should have seen him.”
Sez I: “You don’t see the x-rays that are all about you this very minute; but they are there. You can’t see the great force Marconi uses to talk with, but it walks the earth, goes right through mountains, which you and I can’t do, Miss Meechim. It is stronger than the solid earth or rock. That shows the power of the invisible, that what we call the real is the transitory and weak, the invisible is the lasting and eternal. What we have seen to-day is sorrow chrystalized into grand shapes. A noble young heart’s ideal and asperations wrought out by loveng memory in brick and 71 mortar. The invisible guiding the eye, holding the hand of the visible building for time and eternity.”
Miss Meechim’s nose turned up and she sniffed some. She wuz a foreigner, how could she know what I said? But Dorothy and Robert seemed to understand my language, though they couldn’t speak it yet. And good land! I hain’t learnt its A B C’s yet, and don’t spoze I shall till I git promoted to a higher school.
Well, it wuz on a lovely afternoon that we all went out to the City of Justice, and there I see agin what great wealth might do in lightening the burdens of a sad world. Robert Strong might have spent his money jest as that old man did whose place I have described, and live in still better style, for Robert Strong wuz worth millions. But he felt different; he felt as if he wanted his capital to lighten the burden on the aching back of bowed down and tired out Labor, and let it stand up freer and straighter for a spell. He felt that he could enjoy his wealth more if it wuz shared accordin’ to the Bible, that sez if you have two coats give to him that hasn’t any, and from the needy turn not thou away.
That big building, or ruther that cluster and village of buildings, didn’t need any steeples to tell its mission to the world. Lots of our biggest meetin’ houses need ’em bad to tell folks what they stand for. If it wuzn’t for them steeples poor folks who wander into ’em out of their stifling alleys and dark courts wouldn’t mistrust what they wuz for. They would see the elegantly dressed throng enter and pass over carpeted aisles into their luxuriously cushioned pews, and
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