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Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clicna, il est filmd 6 pp.'^ir de I'angle sup6rieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mdthode. 1 2 3 32X 1 2 3 4 5 6 SWUET CICELY. SWEET CICELY; OR, JOSIAH ALLEN AB A POLITIOIAN. BY "JOSIAH ALLEN'S WIFE." (MARIETTA HOLLEY). , .k t, >>. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS. TORONTO : WILLIAM BRIGGS, 78 & 80 KING STREET EAST. 1885. FZ 3 2044 Bntkrbd accorditid^ to the Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one tliousand eight hundred and eighty -five, by William Brioos, agent for Henry E. .lerrard, of London, England, in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture, at Ottawa. ■?!' TO THE SAD-EYED MOTHERS, WHO, LIKE CICELY, ARE LOOKING ACR0>3 THE CRADLE OF THEIU BOYS INTO THE GREAT WORLD OP TEMPTATION AND DANGER, Zl}is )3ool( ts BeDtcatrlii. PREFACE. JosrAH and me got to talkin' it over. He said it wuzn't right to think more of one child than you did of another. And I says, " That is so, Josiah." And he says, " Then, why did you say yesterday, that you loved sweet Ci'cely better than any of the rest of your thought-children? You said you loved 'em all, and was kinder sorry for the hull on 'em, but you loved her the best ; what made you say it ? " Says I, « I said it, to tell the truth." " Wall, what did you do it for .? " he kep' on, determined to get a reason. " I did it," says I, a comin' out still plainer, — " I did it to keep from lyin'." "Wall, when you say it hain't right to feel so, what makes you?" " I don't know, Josiah," says T, lookin* at him, and be- yend him, way into the depths of emotions and feelin's we can't understand nor help, — " I don't know why, but I know I do." And he drawed on his boots, and went out to the barn. vil / > SWEET CICELY. CHAPTER I. It was somewhere about the middle of winter, along in the forenoon, that Josiah Allen was telegrafted to, unex- pected. His niece Cicely and her little boy was goin* to pass through Jonesville the next day on her way to visit her aunt Mary (aunt on her mother's side), and she would stop off, and make us a short visit if convenient. We wuz both tickled, highly tickled ; and Josiah, before he had read the telegraf ten minutes, was out killin' a hen. The plumpest one in the flock was the order I give ; and I wus a beginnin' to make a fuss, and cook up for her. We loved her jest about as well as we did Tirzah Ann. Sweet Cicely was what we used to call her Avhen she was a girl. Sweet Cicely is a plant that has a pretty white posy. And our niece Cicely was prettier and purer and sweeter than any posy that ever grew: so we thought then, and so we think still. Her mother was my companion's sister, — one of a pair of twins, Mary and M-iria, that thought the world of each other, as twins will. Their mother died when they wus w i. i JOSIAU TELL1>'<. TllK NEWS TO SA.MANTUA. SWEET CICELY. 8 both of 'em babies ; and they wus adopted by a rich aunt, who brought 'em up elegant, and likely too : that I will say for her, if she wus a 'Pucopal, and I a Methodist. I am both liberal and truthful — very. Maria wus Cicely's ma, and she wus left a widow when she wus a young woman ; and Cicely wus her only child. And the two wus bound up in each other as I never see a mother and daughter in my life before or sense. The third year after Josiah and me wus married, Maria wusn't well, and the doctor ordered her out into the country for her health ; and she and little Cicely spent the hull of that summer with us. Cicely wus about ten ; and how we did love that girl ! Her mother couldn't bear to brve her out of her sight ; and I declare, we all of us wus jest about as bad. And from that time they used to spend most all of their summers in Jonesville. The air agreed with 'em, and so did I : we never had a word of trouble. And we used to visit them quite a good deal in the winter season : they lived in the city. Wall, as Cicely got to be a young girl, I used often to set and look at her, and wonder if the Lord could have made a prettier, sweeter girl if he had tried to. She looked to me jest perfect, and so she did to Josiah. And she knew so much, too, and wus so woma.ily and quiet and deep. I s'pose it wus bein' always with her mother that made her seem older and more thoughtful than girls usially are. It seemed as if her great dark eyes wus full of wisdom beyend — fur beyend — her years, and sweetness too. Never wus there any sweeter eyes under the heavens than those of our niece Cicely. She wus very fair and pale, you would think at first ; SWEET CICELY. but, when you would come to look closer, you would see there was nothing sickly in her complexion, only it was very white and smooth, — a good deal like the pure white leaves of the posy Sweet Cicely. She had a gentle, tender mouth, rose-pink; and her cheeks wnz, when she would get rousted up and excited about any thing ; and then it would all sort o' die out again into that pure white. And over all her face, as sweet and womanly as it was, there was a look of power, somehow, a look of strength, as if she would venture much, dare much, for them she loved. She had the gift, not always a happy one, of loving, — a strength of cevotion that always has for its companion- trait a gift of endurpnce, of martyrdom if necessary. She would give all, dare all, endure all, for tl\em she loved. You could see that in her face before you had been with her long enough to see it in her life. Her hair wus a soft, pretty brown, about the color of her eyes. And she wus a little body, slender, and sort o' plump too ; and her arms and hands and neck wus soft and white as snow almost. Yes, we loved Cicely : and no one could blame us, or wonder at us for callin' her after the posy Sweet Cicely ; for she wus prettier than any posy that ever blew, enough sight. Wall, she had always said she couldn't live if her mother died. But she did, poor little creeter ! she did. Maria died when Cicely wus about eighteen. She had always been delicate, and couldn't live no longer : so she died. And Josiah and me went right after the poor child, and brought her home with us. SWEET CICELY. She lived, Cicely did, because she wus young, and couldn't die. And Josiah and me wus dretful good to CICELY. her ; and many's the nights that I have gone into her room when I'd hear her cryin' way along in the night ; many's the times I h, .e gone in, and took her in my arms, and TT 6 SWEET CICELY. held her there, and cried with her, and sootlied her, and got her to sleep, and held he^ in my arms like a baby till mornin'. Wall, she lived with us most a year that time ; and it wus about two years after, while she wus to souie of her father's folks'es (they wus very rich), that she met the young man she married, — Paul Slide. He wus a -handsome young man, well-behaved, only he would drink a little once in a while : he'd got into the habit at college, where his mate wus wild, and had his turns. But he wus very pretty in his manners, Paul was, — polite, good-natured, generous-dispositioned, — and very rich. And as to his looks, there wuzn't no earthly fault to find with him, only jest his chin. And I told Josiah, that how Cicely could marry a man with such a chin wus a mystery to me. And Josiah said, " What is the matter with his chin ? " And I says, " Why, it jest sets x^i^ht back from his mouth ; he hain't got no chin at all hardly," says I. "The place where his chin ort to be is uothin' but a holler place all filled up with irresolution and weakness. And I believe Cicely will see trouble with that chin." And then — I well remember it, for it was the very first time after marriage, and so, of course, the very first time in our two lives — Josiah called me a fool, a " dumb fool," or jest the same as called me so. He says, " I wouldn't be a dumb fool if I was in your place." I felt worked up. But, like warriors on a battle-field, I grew stronger for the fray ; and the fray didn't scare me none. ih' PAUL SLIDE. •I 8 SWEET CICELY. But I says, " You'll see if you live, Josiah Allen ; " and he did. But, as I said, I didn't see how Cicely ever fell in love with a man with such a chin. But, as I learned after- wards, she fell in love with him under a fur collar. It wus on a slay-ride. And he wuz very handsome from his mouth up, very : his mouth wuz ruther weak. It wus a case of love at first sight, which I believe in considerable ; and she couldn't help lovin' him, women are so queer. I had always said that when Cicely did love, it would go hard with her. Many's the offers she'd had, but didn't care for 'em. But I knew, with her temperament and nater, that love, if it did come to her, would come to stay, and it would come hard and voyalent. '^nd so it did. She worshipped him, as I said at first, under a fur collar. And then, when a woman once gets to lovin' a man as she did, why, she san't help herself, chin or no chin. When a woman has once thro wed herself in front of her idol, it hain't so much matter whether it is stuffed full of gold, or holler: it hain't so much matter what they be, I think. Curius, hain't it ? It hain't the easiest thing in the world for such a woman as Cicely to love, but it is a good deal easier for her than to unlove, as she found out afterwards. For twice b'^' re her marriage she saw him out of his head with liquor ; and it wus my advice to her, to give him up. And she tried to unlove him, tried to give him up. But, good land ! she might jest as well b' e took a piece of her own heart out, as to take out of it h' 'ove for him : it had become a part of her. And he told iier she could SWEET CICELY. 9 save him, her influence could redeem him, and it wus the only thing that could save him. And Cicely couldn't stand such talk, of course ; and she believed him — believed that she could love him so well, throw her influence so around him, as to hold him back from any evil course. It is a beautiful hope, the very beautifulest and divinest piece of folly a woman can commit. Beautiful enough in the sublime martyrdom of the idee, to make angels smile ; and vain enough, and foolish enough in its utter useless- ness, to make sinners weep. It can't be done — not in 98 cases out of a 100 at least. Why, if a man hain't got love enough for a won. an when he is tryin' to win her affection, — when he is on proba- tion, as you may say, — to stop and turn round in his downward course, how can she expect he will after he has got her, and has let down his watch, so to speak ? But she loved him. And when I warned her with tears in my eyes, warned her that mebby it wus more than her own safety and happiness that wus imperilled, I could see by the look in her eyes, though she didn't say much, that it wusn't no use for me to talk ; for she wus one of the constant natures that can't wobble round. And though I don't like wobblin', still I do honestly believe that the wobblers are happier than them that can't wobble. I could see jest how it wuz, and I couldn't bear to have her blamed. And I would tell folks, — some of the rela- tions on her mother's side, — when they would say, " What a fool she wus to have him ! " — I'd say to 'em, " Wall, when a woman sees the man she loves goin' down to ruin- ation, and tries to unlove him, she'll find out jest how 10 SWEET CICELY. much harder it is to unlove liim than to love him in the first place : they'll find out it is a tough job to tackle." I said this to blamcis of Cicely (relatives, the best blamers you can find anywhere). But, at the same time, SAMAN rUA AXU THK *' BI.AMERS. it would have been my way, when he had come a courtin' me so far gone with liquor that he could hardly stand up — why, I should have told him plain, that I wouldn't try to set myself up as a rival to alcohol, and he might pay to that his attentions exclusively hereafter. But she didn't. And he promised sacred to abstain, i- SWEET CICELY. 11 and could, and did, for most a year; and she married him. But, jest before the marriage, I got so rousted up a thinkin' about what I had heard of liim at college, — and I studied on his picture, which she had sent me, took sideways too, and I could see plain (why, he hadn't no chin at all, as you may say ; and his lips was weak and waverin' as ever lips was, though sort o' amiable and fas- cinating), — and I got to forebodin' so about that chin, and my love for her wus a hunchin' me up so all the time, that I went to see her on a short tower, to beset her on the subject. But, good land! I might have saved my breath, I might have saved my tower. I cried, and she cried too. And I says to her before I thought, — " He'll be the ruin of you. Cicely." And she says, " I would rather be beaten by his hand, than to be crowned by another. Why, I love him, aunt Samantha." You see, that meant a awful sight to her. And as she looked at me so earnest and solemn, with tears in them pretty brown eyes, there wus in her look all that that word could possibly mean to any soul. But I cried into my white linen handkerchief, and couldn't help it, and couldn't help sayin', as I see that look, — "Cicely, I am afraid he will break your heart — kiJ^ you" — " Why, I am not afraid to die when I am with him. I am afraid of nothing — of life, or death, or eternity." Well, I see my talk was no use. I see she'd have him, nr 12 SWEET CICELY. chin or no chin. If I could have taken her up in my arms, and run a "'ay with her then and there, how much misery I could have saved her from ! But I couldn't : I had the rheunuitiz. And I had to give up, and go home disappointed, but carryin' this thought home with me on my tower, — that I had done my duty by our sweet Cicely, and could do no more. As I said, he promised firm to give up drinking. But, good land! what could you expect from that chin? That chin couldn't stand temptation if it came in his way. At the same time, his love for Cicely was such, and his good heart and his natural gentlemanly intuitions was such, that, if he could have been kep' out of the way of temptation, he would have been all right. If there hadn't been drinking-saloons right in front of that chin, if it could have walked along the road without runnin' right into 'em, it would have got along. That chin, and them waverin'-lookiii', amiable lips, wouldn't have stirred a step out of their ways to get ruined and disgraced : they wouldn't have took the trouble to. And for a year or so he and the chin kep' out of the way of temptation, or ruther temptation kep' out of their way ; and Cicely was happy, — radiently happy, as only such a nature as hern can be. Her face looked like a mornin' in June, it wus so bright, and glowing with joy and happy love. I visited her, stayed 3 days and 2 nights with her ; and I almost forgot to forebode about the lower part of his face, I found 'em so happy and prosperous and likely. Paul wus very rich. He wus the only child : and his pa left 2 thirds of his property to him, and the other third ir m SWEET CICELY. 13 to his ma, which wus more than she could ever use while she wus alive ; and at her death it wus to go to Paul and his heirs. They owned most all of the village they lived in. His pa had owned the township the village was built on, and had built most all the village himself, and rented the build- ings. He owned a big manufactory there, and the buildings rented high. Wall, it wus in the second year of their marriage that that old college chumb — (and I wish he had been chumbed by a pole, before he had ever gone there). He had lost his property, and come down in the world, and had to work for a livin' ; moved into th.it village, and opened a drinking- saloon and billiard-room. He had been Paul's most intimate friend at college, and his evil genius, so his mother said. But he was bright, witty, generous in a way, unprincipled, dissipated. And he wanted Paul's company, and he wanted Paul's money , and he had a chin himself, and knew how to manage them that hadn't any. Wall, Cicely and his mother tried to keep Paul from that bad influence. But he said it would look shabby to not take ar notice of a man because he wus down in the world. He wouldn't have much to do with him, but it wouldn't do to not notice him at all. How curius, that out of good comes bad, and out of bad, good. That was a good-natured idee of Paul's if he had had a chin that could have held up his principle ; but he didn't. So he gradually fell under the old influence again. He didn't mean to. He hadn't no idee of doin' so when he begun. It was the chin. « 14 BWEET CICELY. He begun to drink hard, spent liis nights in the saloon, gambled, — slipped right down the old, smooth track worn by millions of jest such weak feet, towards ruin. And (Cicely couldn't hold him back after he had got to slippin' : her arms \\ uzn't strong enough. She went to the saloon-keeper, and cried, and begged of him not to sell her husband any more liquor. He was very polite to her, very courteous: everybody was to Cicely. But in a polite way he told her that Paul wus his best customer, and he shouldn't offend him by refusing to sell him liquor. She knelt at his feet, I hearn, — her little, tender limbs on that rough floor before that evil man, — find wept, and said, — " For the sake of her boy, wouldn't he have mercy on the boy's father." But in a gentle way he gave her to understand that he shouldn't make no change. And he told her, speakin' in a dretful courteous way, "that he had the law on his side: he had a license, and he should keep right on as he was doing." And so what could Cicely do ? And time went on, carry- in' Paul further and further down the road that has but one ending. Lower and lower he sunk, carryin' her heart, her happiness, her life, down with him. And they said one cold night Paul didn't come home at all, and Cicely and his mother wus half crazy ; and they wus too proud, to the last, to tell the servants more than they could help: so, when it got to be most mornin', them two delicate women started out through the deep snow, to try to find him, tremblin' at every little heap of snow that wus tumbled up in the path in front of 'em ; tremblin' CICELY IN THE SALOON. 'IT^ 16 SWEET CICELY. and sick at heart with the agony and dread that v/us rackin' their souls, as they would look over the cold fields of snow stretching on each side of the road, and thinkin' how that face would look if it wus lying there staring with lifeless eyes up towards the cold moonlight, — the face they had kissed, the face they had loved, — and think- in', too, that the change that had come to it — was comin' to it all the time — was more cruel and hopeless than the change of death. So they went on, clear to the saloon ; and there they found him, — there he lay, perfectly stupid, and dead with liquor. And they both, the broken-hearted mother and the broken-hearted wife, with the tears running down their white cheeks, besought the saloon-keeper to let him alone from ti.-.t night. The mother says, "Paul is so good, that if you did not tempt him, entice hira here, he would, out of pity to us, stop his evil ways." And the saloon-keeper was jest as polite as any man wus ever seen to be, — took his hat off while he told 'em, so I hearn, "that he couldn't go against his own in- terests : if Paul chose to spend his money there, he should take it." " Will you break our hearts ? " cried the mother. " Will you ruin my husband, the father of my boy ? " sobbed out Cicely, her big, sorrowful eyes lookin' right through his soul — if he had a soul. And then the man, in a pleasant tone, reminded 'em, — "That it wuzn't him that wu3 a doin' this. It wus the law : if they wanted things changed, they must look fur- SWEET CICELY. 17 ther than him. He had a license. The great Government of the United States had sold him, for a few dollars, the right to do just what he was doing. The law, and all the respectability that the laws of our great and glorious Republic can give, bore him out in all his acts. The law was responsible for all the consequenses of his acts : the men were responsible who voted for license — it was not him." " But you can do what we ask if you will, out of pity to Paul, pity to us who love him so, and who are forced to stand by powerless, and see him going to ruin — we who would die for him willingly if it would do any good. You can do this." He was a little bit intoxicated, or he wouldn't have gii? 'em the cruel sneer he did at the last, — though he sneered polite, — a holdin' his hat in his hand. "As I said, my dear madam, it is not I, it is the law ; and I see no other way for you ladies who feel so about it, only to vote, and change the laws." "Would to God I could!'''' said the old white-haired mother, with her solemn eyes lifted to the heavens, in which was her only hope. " Would to God I could ! " repeated my sweet Cicely, with her eyes fastened on the face of him who had prom- ised to cherish her, and comfort her, and protect her, lay- in' there at her feet, a mark for jeers and sneers, unable to speak a word, or lift his hand, if his wife and mother had been killed before him. But they couldn't do any thing. They would have lain their lives down for him at any time, but that wouldn't do any good. The lowest, most ignorant laborer in their em- 15! Ill it I ! 18 SWEET CICELY. ploy had power in this matter, but they had none. They had intellectual power enough, which, added to their utter helplessness, only made their burden more unendurable ; for tliey comprehended to the full the knowledge of what was past, and what must come in the future unless help came quickly. Tliey had the strength of devotion, tlie strength of unselfish love. They had the will, but they hadn't nothin' to tackle it onto him with, to draw him back. For their prayers, tlieir mi 'night watches, their tears, did not avail, as I said : they Wi ut jest so far; they touched him, but they lacked tlie tacklin'-power that was wanted to grip holt of him, and draw him back. What they needed w.^s the justice of the law to tackle the injustice ; and they hadn't got it, and couldn't get holt of it: so they had to set with hands folded, or lifted to the heavens in wild appeal, — either way didn't help Paul any, — and see him a sinkin' and a sinkin', slippin' further and further down ; and they had to let him go. He drunk harder and harder, neglected his business, got quarrelsome. And one night, when the heavens was cur- tained with blackness, like a pall let down to cover the ac- cursed scene, he left Cicely with her pretty baby asleep on her bosom, went down to the saloon, got into a quarrel with that very friend of hisen, the saloon-keeper, over a game of billiards, — they was both intoxicated, — and tlien and there Paul committed murder^ and would have been hung for it if he hadn't died in State's prison the night before he got his sentence. Awful deed ! Dreadful fate ! But no worse, as I told Josiah when he wus a groanin' over it ; no worse, I told the PAUL SHOOTING HIS FRIEND. 20 SWEET CICELY. children when they was a cryin' over it ; no worse, I told my own heart when the tears wus a runnin' down my face like rain-water, — no worse because Cicely happened to be our relation, and we loved her as we did our own eyes. And our broad land is full of jest such sufferin's, jest such crimes, jest such disgrace, caused by the same cause ; — as I told Josiah, suffering, disgrace, and crime made legal and protected by the law. And Josiah squirmed as I said it; and I see him squirm, for he believed in it : he believed in licensing this shame and disgrace and woe ; he believed in makin' it respect- able, and wrappin' round it the mantilly of the law, to keep it in a warm, healthy, llourishin' condition. Why, he had helped do it himself ; he had helped the United States lift up the mantilly ; he had voted for it. He squirmed, but turned it off by usin' his bandana hard, and sayin', in a voice all choked down with grief, — •• Oh, poor Cicely ! poor girl ! " " Yes," says I, " ' poor girl ! ' and the law you uphold has made her * poor girl ' — has killed her ; for she won't live through it, and you and the United States will see that she won't." He squirmed hard ; and my feelin's for him are such that I can't bear to see him squirm voyalently, as much as I blamed him and the United States, and as mad as I was at both on 'em. So I went to cryin' agin silently under my linen hand- kerchief, and he cried into his bandana. It wus a awful blow to both on us. Wall, she lived, Cicely did, which was more than we any SWEET CICELY. 21 one of us thought she could do. I went right there, and stayed six weeks W'th her, hangin' right over her bed, night and day ; and so did his mother, — she a broken- hearted woman too. Her heart broke, too, by the United States; and so I told Josiah, that little villain that got killed was only one of his agents. Yes, her heart was broke ; but she bore up for Cicely's sake and the boy's. For it seemed as if she felt remorsful, and as if it was for tliem that belonged to him who had ruined her life, to help her all they could. Wall, after about three weeks Cicely begun to live. And so I wrote to Josiah that I guessed she would keep on a livin' now, for the sake of the boy. And so she did. And she got up from that bed a shadow, — a faint, pale shadow of the girl that used to brighten up our home for us. She was our sweet Cicely still. But she looked like that posy after the frost has withered it, and with the cold moonlight layin' on it. Good and patient she wuz, and easy to get along with ; for she seemed to hold earthly things with a dretful loose grip, easy to leggo of 'em. And it didn't seem as if she had any interest at all ia life, or care for any thing that was a goin' on in the world, till the boy wus about four years old ; and then she begun to get all rousted up about him and his future. " She must live," she said : " she had got to live, to do something to help him in the future. "She couldn't die," she told me, "and leave him in a world that was so hard for boys, where temptations and danger stood all round her boy's pathway. Not only hid- den perils, concealed from sight, so he might possibly es- cape them, but open temptations, open dangers, made as l( 22 SWEET CICELY. alluring as private avarice con d make them, and made as respectable as dignified legal enac':ments could make them, — all to draw her boy down tlie pathway his p(jor lallier CICKLY AND THE BOY. descended." For one of the curius things abou. "^'icely wuz, she didn't seem to blame Paul hardly a mite, nor not so very much the one that enticed him to drink. She SWEET CICELY 28 as !m, lier went back further tliaii them : she laid the blame onto our laws; she laid the responsibility onto the ones that made 'cm, directly and indirectly, the legislators and the voters. Curius tliat Cicely should feel so, when most every- 1)1 )dy saiv. that he could have stopped drinking if he had wanted to. But then, I don't know as I could blame her lor feelin' so when I thought of Paul's chin and lips. Why, anybody tliat had them on 'em, and was made up inside and outside accordin', as folks be that have them k)oks; why, unless they was specially guarded by good influences, and fenced off from bad ones, — why, they could not exert any self-denial and control and firmness. Why, I jest followed that chin and that mouth right back through seven generations of the Slide family. Paul's father wus a good man, had a good face ; took it from his mother : but his father, Paul's grandfather, died a drunkard. They have got a oil-portrait of him at Paul's old home : I stopped there on my way home from Cicely's one time. And for all the world he looked most exactly like Paul, — the same sort of a irresolute, handsome, weak, fascinating look to him. And all through them portraits I could trace that chin and them lips. They would dis- appear in some of 'em, but crop out agin further back. And I asked the housekeeper, who had always lived in the family, and wus proud of it, but honest; and she knew the story of the hull Slide race. And she said tliat every one of 'em that had that face had traits accordin' ; and 'most every one of 'em got into trouble of some kind. One or two of 'em, specially guarded, I s'pose, by good influences, got along with no further trouble than the loss I 24 SWEET CICELY. of the chin, and the feelin' they must have had inside of 'em, that they wuz liable to crumple right down any minute. And as they wus made with jest them looks, and jest them traits, born so, entirely unbeknown to them, I don't know as I can blame Cicely for feelin' as she did. If temptation hadn't stood right in ihe road in front of liim, why, he'd have got along, and lived happy. That's Cicely's idee. And I don't know but she's in the right ont. But as I said, when her child wus about four years old, Cicely took a turn, and begun to get all worked up and excited by turns a worryin' about the boy. She'd talk about it a sight to me, and I hearn it from others. She rousted up out of her deathly weakness and heart- broken, stunted calm, — for such it seemed to be for the first two or three years after her husband's death. She seemed to make an effort almost like that of a dead man throwin' off the icy stupor of death, and risin' up with numbed limbs, and shakin' off the death-robes, and livin' agin. She rousted up with jest such a effort, so it seemed, for the boy's sake. She must live for the boy ; she must work ior the boy ; she must try to throw some safeguards around his future. What could she do to help him ? That wus the question that was a hantin' her soul. It wus jest like death for her to face the curius gaze of the '/orld again ; for, like a wounded animal, she had wanted to crawl away, and hide her cruel woe and dis- grace in some sheltered spot, away from the sharp-sot eyes of the babblin' world. SWEET CICELY. 25 But she endured it. She came out of her quiet home, wliere ])er heart liad bled in secret ; she came out into society again ; and she did every thing she could, in her gentle, quiet way. She joined temperance societies, — helped push 'em forward with her money and her influ- ence. With other white-souled wimmen, gentle and refined as she was, she went into rough bar-rooms, and knelt on their floors, and prayed what her sad heart wus full of, — for pity and mercy for her boy, and other mothers' boys, — prayed with that fellowship of suffering that made her sweet voice as pathetic as tears, and patheticker, so I have been told. Hut oiiv'^ thing hurt her influence dretfully, and almost broke her own heart. Paul had left a very large |)roperty, but it wus all in the hands of an executor until the boy wus of age. He wus to give Cicely a liberal, a very lib- eral, sum every 3'ear, but wus to manage the property jest as he thought best. He wus a good business man, and one that meant to do middlin' near right, but wus close for a bargain, and sot, awful sot. And though he wus dretful polite, and made a stiddy practice right along of callin' wimmen ""angels," still he would not brook a woman's interference. Wall, he could get such big rents for drinkin'-saloons, that four of Cicely's buildings wus rented for that pur- pose ; and there wus one billiard-room. And what made it worse for Cicely seemin'ly, it wus her own pro})erty, that she brought to Paul when she wus married, that wus in- vested in these buildings. At that time they wus rented for dry-goods stores, and groceries. But the business of the manufactories had increased greatly ; and there wus I 26 SWEET CICELY. three times the impuhition now tliere wiis when she went there to live, and more saloons wus needed ; and tliese hnildhi«;s wus handy ; and the executer had ])ig prices ofil'ered to him, and he would rent 'em as he wanted to. And then, he wus sonu'tliiug of a statesuian ; and he felt, as many business men did, tliat they wus fairly sufferin' for more saloons to enrich the government. Why, out of every hundred dollars that them poor laboring-men had earned so hardly, and paid into the saloons for that wliich, of course, wus ruinous to them- selves and families, and, of course, rendered them inca- pable of all labor for a great deal of the time, — wliy, out of that hundreil dollars, as many as 2 cents N.ould go to the government to enrich it. Of course, tlie government had to use them 2 cents light off towards buyin' tight-jackets to coniine tiie madmen the whiskey had made, and ])oorhouse-doors for tiie idiots it had breeded, to lean up aginst, and buryin' the paupers, and buyin' ropes to hang the murderers it had created. But still, in some strange way, too deep, fur too deej), for a woman's mind to comprehend, it wus dretful profit- able to the government. Now, if them poor laborin'-men had paid that 2 cents of thiern to the government themselves, in the first place, in direct taxation, why, that wouldn't have been states- manship. That is a deep study, and has a great many curius performances, and it has to perform. Cicely tried her very best to get the executor to change in this one matter ; but she couldn't move him the width of a horse-hair, and he a smilin' all the time at her, and polite. He liked Cicely: nobody could help likin' the ' i UNCLE SAM ENRICHING THE GOVEIINMENT. 28 SWEKT CICELY. gentle, saintly-soiiled little woman. Rut he wus sot : he wus niakin money fast by it, and she liad to give up. And rough men and women would sometimes twit her of it, — of her property bein' used to advance the licjuor- tralHc, and ruin men and wimmen ; and she a feelin' like death about it, and her hands tied up, and powerless. No wonder that her face got whiter and whiter, and her eyes bigger and mournfuller-lookin'. Wall, she kep' on, try in' to do all she could : she joined the Woman's Temperance Union ; she spent her money free as water, where she thought it would do any good, and brought up the boy jest as near right as she could possibly bring him up ; and she prayed, and wept right when she wus a bringin' of him, a thinkin' that her prop- erty wus a bein' used every day and every hour in ruinin' other mothers' boys. And the boy's face almost breakin' her heart every time she looked at it ; for, though he wus jest as pretty as a child could be, the pretty rosy lips had the same good-tempered, irresolute curve to 'em that the boy inherited honestly. And he had the same weak, wa- verin' chin. It was white and rosy now, with a dimple right in the centre, sweet enough to kiss. But the chin wus there, right under the rosy snow and the dimple ; and I foreboded, too, and couldn't blame Cicely a mite for her forebodin', and her agony of sole. I noticed them lips and that chin the very minute Josiah brought him into the settin'-room, and set him down ; and my eyes looked dubersome at him through my specks. Cicely see it, see that dubersome look, though I tried to turn it off by kissin' him jest PS hearty as I could after I had took the little black-robed figure of his \ SWEET CICELY. 29 mother, and hugged her close lo my hecart, and kissed her time and time agin. She always dressed in the deepest of mournin', and always would. I knew tliat. Wall, we wus awful glad to see Cicely. I had had tlie old fheplace fixed in the front spare room, and a crib put in there for the boy; and I went right up to lier room with her. And when we had got there, I took her riglit in my arms agin, as I used to, and told her how glad I wus, and how thankful 1 wus, to have her and the boy with us. The fire sparkled up on the old brass handirons as warm as my welcome. Her bed and the boy's bed looked wliite and cozy aginst the dark red of the carpet and th.e cream-colored paper. And after I had lowered the pretty ruflied muslin curtains (with red ones under 'em), and pulled a stand forward, and lit a lamp, — it v/us sundown, — the room looked cheerful enough for anybody, and it seemed as if Cicely looked a little less white and broken- hearted. She wus glad to be with me, and said she wuz. But right there — before supper ; and we could smell tlie roast chicken and coffee, havin' left the stair-door open — right there, before we had visited hardly any, or talked a mite about other wimmen, she begun on what she wanted to do, and wliat she must do, for the boy. I had told her how the boy had grown, and that sot her off. And from that niglit, every minute of her time almost, when she could without bein' impolite and trouble- some (Cicely wus a perfect lady, inside and out), she would talk to me about what she wanted to do for the boy, what she must do. She must work for him ; she must try ■^ISS'./k 30 SWEET CICELY. THE SPAKE IJOOM. to have the laws changed before he grew up : she didn't dure to let him go out into tlie world with the laws as they was now, with temptation on every side of him. SWEET CICELY. 81 y. "You know, aunt Samantha," she sa^^s to me, "that I wanted to die when my husband died ; but I want to live now. Why, I must live ; I cannot die ; I dare not die until n.y boy is safer. I will work, I will die if necessary, for him." It wus the same old Cicely, I see, not enAn for herself, but carin' only for them she loved. Lovin' little creeter, gdod little creeter, she always wuz, and always would be. And so I told eJosiah. Wall, we had the boy set between us to the supper-table, Josiah and me did, in Thomas Jefferson's litth^, high-chair. I havl new covered it on purpose for him with b/ight cop- per})late calico. And that night at supper, and after supper, I judged, and judged calmly, — we made the estimate after we went to bed, Josiah and me did, — that the boy asked 3 thou- sand and 85 questions about every thing under the sun and moon, and things over 'em, and outside of 'em, and inside. Why, I panted for breath, but wouldn't give in. I Avas determined to use Cicely first-rate, and we loved the boy too. But, oh ! it was a weary love, and a short-vvinded love, and a hoarse one. We went to bed tuckered completely out, but good- natured: our love for 'em held us up. And whea we made the estimate, it wuzn't in a cross tone, but amiable, and almost winnin'. Josiah thought they went up into the trillions. But I am one that never likes to set such tilings too high; audi said calmly, 3,000 and 85. And finally he gin in that mebbyit wuzn't no more than thav.. Cicely told me she couldn't stay with us very long now ; for her aunt Mary wuz expectin' to go away to the Mich- .; I it: I 32 SWEET CICELY. igan pretty soon, to see a daughter who wus out of health, — had been out of it for some time, — and she wanted a visit from her neice Cicely before she went. But she promised to come back, and make a good visit on her way home. And so it was planned. The next day was Sunday, and Cicely wus too tired with her journey to go to meetin'. But the boy went. He sot up, lookin' beautiful, by the side of me on tLo back seat of the Democrat ; his uncle Josiah sot in front ; and Ury drove. Ury Henzy, he's oar hired man, and a tolerable good one, as hired men go. His name is Urias ; but we always call him Ury, — spelt U-r-y, Ury, — with the emi)hasis on the U. Wall, that day Elder Minkly preached. It wus a pow- erful sermon, about the creation of the world, and how man was made, and the fall of Adam, and about Noah and the ark, and how the wicked wus destroyed. It wus a middlin' powerful sermon ; and the boy sc^t up between Josiah and me, and we wus proud enough of him. He had on a little green velvet suit and a deep linen collar ; and he sot considerable still for him, with his eyes on Elder Minkly's face, a thinkin', I guess, how he would put us through our catechism on the way home. And, oh ! didn't he, didn't he do it ? I s'pose things seem strange to children, and they can't help askin' about 'em. But 4,000 wus the estimate Josiah and me calculated on our pillows that : light wus the number of questions the boy asked on our way home, about the creation, how the world wus made, and the ark — oh, how he harressed my poor companion about the animals ! " Did they drive 2 of all the animals in the world in that house, uncle Josiah ? " SWEET CICELY 33 c o M c H C 2 w o 34 SWEET CICELY. " Yes," savs Josiah. " 2 elfants, and rinosterliorses, and snakes, and snakes, and bears, and tigers, and cows, and camels, and hens ? " " Yes, yes." "And flies, uncle Josiah? — did they drive in two flies? and mud-turkles ? and bumble-bees ? and muskeeters ? Say, uncle Josiah, did they drive in muskeeters ? " " I s'pose so." " How could they drive in two muskeeters ? " " Oh I less stop talkin' for a spell — shet up your little mouth," says Josiah in a winnin' tone, pattin' him on his head. " I can shut up my mouth, uncle Josiah, but I can't shut up my thinker." Josiah sithed ; and, right Avhile he wus a sithin', the boy commenced agin on a new tack. " What for a lookin' place was paradise ? " And then follered 800 questions about paradise. Josiah sweat, and offered to let the boy come back, and set with me. He had insisted, when we started from the meetin'-house, on havin' the boy set on the front seat between him and Ury. But I demurred about any change, and leaned back, and eat a sweet apple. I don't think it is wrong Sundays to eat a sweet apple. And the boy kep' on. "What did Adam fall off of? Did he fall out of the apple-tree ? " " No, no ! he fell because he sinned." But the boy went right on, in a tone of calm convic- tion, — " No big man would be apt to fall a walking right along. He fell out of the apple-tree." SWEET CICELY. 85 And then lie says, after a minute's still thought, — "I believe, if I had been there, and had a string round Adam's leg, I could kep' him fnmi fallin' off; — and say, where was the Lord? Couldn't He have kept him? say, couldn't He?" '• Yes : He can do any thing." "Wall, then, why dicVi't He?" Josiah groaned, low. " If Adam hadn't fell, I wouldn't have fell, would I ? — nor you — nor U ry — nor anybody ? " " No : I s'pose not." "Wall, wouldn't it have paid to kept Adam up? Say, uncle Josiah, say ! " "Oh I less talk about sunthin' else," says my poor Josiah. " Don't you want a sweet apple ? " "Yes; and say ! what kind of a apple was it that Adam eat ? Was it a sweet apple, or a greening, or a sick-no- further? And say, was it riffht for all of us to fall down because Adam did? And how did I am just because a man eat an apple, and fell out of an apple-tree, when I never saw the apple, or poked him offen the tree, or jog- gled him, or any thing — vdien I wasn't there ? Say, how was it wrong, uncle Josiah ? When I wasn't there ! " My poor companion, I guess to sort o' i)acify him, broke out kinder a singin' in a tone full of fag, " ' In Adam's fall, we sinnM all.' " Josiah is sound. "And be I a sinning now, uncle Josiah? and a falling? And is everybody a sinning and a falling jest because that one man eat one apple., and fell out of an apple-tree? Say, is it right., uncle Josiah, for you and me, and every- body that is on the earth, to keep a falling, and keep 1 M I i • I i ; 86 SWEET CICELY. a falling, and bein' blamed, and every thing, when we hadn't done any thing, and wasn't there? And «««/, will folks always keep a falling?" " Yes, if they hain't good.'* " How can they keep a falling ? If Adam fell out of the aj^ple-tree, wouldn't he have struck on the ground, and got JOSIAH CLOSING THE CONVKKSATION. up agin ? And if anybody falls, why, why, mustn't they come to the bottom sometime ? If there is something to fall off of, mustn't there be something to hit against? And say " — Here the boy's eyes looked dreamier than they had looked, and further off. "Was I made out of dirt, uncle Josiah?" SWEET CICELY. 87 •;» " Yes : we are all made out of dust." "And did God breathe our souls into us? Was it His own self, His own life, that was breathed into us?" " Yes," says Josiah, in a more fagged voice than he had used durin' the intervue, and more hopelesser. " \Vall, if God is in us, how can He lose us again ? Wouldn't it be a losing His own self? And how could God lose Himself? And what did He find us for, in the first place, if He wus going to lose us again ? " Here Josiah got riglit up in the Democrat, and lifted the boy, and sot him over on the seat with me, and took the lines out of Dry's hands, and drove the old mair at a rate that I told him wus shameful on Sunday, for a perfessor. IT wus ON A SLAY-KIDE " (p. 8). CHAPTER IT. Wall, Cicely and the boy staid till Tuesday night. Tuesday afternoon the children wus all to home on a invitation. (I had a chicken-pie, and done well by 'em.) And nothin' to do but what Cicely and the boy must go home with 'em : tljey jest think their eyes of Cicely. And I couldn't blame em for wantin' her, though I hated to give her up. She laid out to stay a few days, and then come back to our house for a day or two, and then go on to her aunt Mary's. But, as it turned out, the children urged her so, she stayed mof-t two weeks. And the vevy next day but one after Cicely went to the children's — And don't it beat all how, if visitors get to comin', they'll keep a comin'? jest as it is if you begin to have trials, you'll have lots of 'em, or broken dishes, or any thing. Wall, it wus the very next mornin' but one after Civ^ely had gone, and my voice had actually begun to sound natural agin (the boy had kep' me hoarse as a frog answerin' questions). I wus whitewashin' the kitchen, havin' put it off while Cicely wus there ; and there wus a man to work a patchin' up the wall in one of the chambers, r SWEET CICELY. 89 and right there and then, Elburtus Smitli Gansey come. And truly, we found him as clever a critter as ever walked the earth. It wus jest before korkuss ; and he wus kinder visatin' round amongst his relations, and makin' himself agreable. He is my 5th cousin, — 5th or 6th. I can't reely tell which, and I don't know as I care much ; for I think, that, after you get by the 5th, it hain't much matter anyway. I sort o' pile 'em all in promiscous. Jest as it is after any- body gets to be 70 years old, it hain't much matter how much older they be : they are what you may call old, any- way. But I think, as I said prior and beforehand, that he wus a 5th. His mother wus a Butrick, and her mother wus a Smith. So he come to make us a visit, and sort o' ellec- tioneer round. He wanted to get put in county judge ; and so, the korkuss bein' held in Jonesville, I s'pose he thought he'd come down, and endear himself to us, as they all do. I am one that likes company first-rate, and I always try to do well by 'em ; but I tell Josiah, that somehow city folks (Elburtus wus brought up in a city) are a sort of a bother. They require so much, and give you the feelin', that, when you are a ,doin' your very best for 'em, they hain't satisfied. You see, some folks'es best hain't nigh so good as other folks'es 8d or 4th. But this feller — why ! I liked him from the first minute I sot my eyes on him. I hadn't seen him before sence I wus a child, and so didn't feel so awful well ac- quainted with him ; or, that is, I didn't, as it were, feel intimate. You know, when you lybody C»'! II '11 40 SWEET CICELY. the time you are ])al)ies till you arc married, and have lost a good many teeth, and eonsidorabh^ hair, you can't I'ccl over and above intimate with 'em at first sight. But I liked him, he wus so unassuming and friendly, and took every thing so peaceable and pleasant. And he deserved better things than what hai)pcned to him. You see, I wus a cleanin' house when he come, cleanin' the kitchen at tiiat out-of-the-way time of year on account of Cicely's visit, and on account of repairin' that had i)rom- ised to be done by Josiah Allen, and delayed from week to week, and month to month, as is the way with men. But finally he had got it done, and I wus ready to the minute with my brush and scourin'-cloth. I wus a whitewashin' when he come, and my pail of whitewash wus hung up over the kitchen-door; and I stood up on a table, a whitewashin' the ceilin, when I heard a buggy drive up to the door, and stop. And I stood still, and listened ; and then I heard a awful katouse and rumpus, and then I heard hollerin' ; and then I heard Josiah' voice, and somebody else's voice, a talkin' back and forth, sort o' quick and excited. Now, some wimmen would have been skairt, and acted skairt; but I didn't. I jest stood up on that table, cool and calm as a statue of Repose sculped out of marble, and most as white (I wus all covered with whitewash), with my brush held easy and firm in my right hand, and my left ear a listenin'. Pretty soon the door opened right by the side of the table, and in come Josiah Allen and a strange man. He introduced him to me as Elburtus Gansey, my 4th cousin ; and I made a handsome curchy. I s'pose, bein' up on the SWEET CICELY. 41 EXCEM-ENT LIME. 42 SWEET CICELY. table, the curchy showed off to better advantage than it would if I hud been on the floor: it looked well. But I felt that I ort to shake hands with him ; and, as I went to step down into a ehair to get down (entirely unl)eknown to me), my brush hit against that i)ail, and down come that pail of whitewash right onto his back. (If it had been his head, it would have brt)ke it.) I felt as if I should sink. But he took it the best that ever wus. lie said, when Josiah and me wus a sweepin' him off, and a rubbin' him off with wet towels, that "* it wasn't no matter at all." And he spoke up so polite and courteous, that "it seemed to be first-rate whitewash : he never see better, whiter lime in his life, than that seemed to be." And tlr "^ he sort o' felt of it between his tluunb and finger, and asked Josiah "where did he get that lime, and if they had any more of it. He didn't believe they could get such lime outside of Jonesville." He acted like a perfect gentle- man. And he told me, in that same polite, pleasant tone, how Josiah's old sheep had knocked him over 3 times while he wus a comin' into the house. He said, with that calm, gentle smile, "that no sooner would he get up, than he would stand off a little, and then rush at him with his head down, and push him right over." Says I, " It is a perfect shame and a disgrace," says I. " And I have told you, Josiah Allen, that some stranger would get killed by that old creeter; and I should think you would get rid of it." " Wall, I lay out to, the first chance I get," says he. Elburtus said "it would almost seem to be a pity, it SWEET CICELY. 40 was so strong and healthy a sheep." He said he never met a sheep under any circumstances that seemed to have a sounder, stronger constitution. He said of course the sheep and lie hadn't met under the pleasantest of circum- stances, and it wusn't over and above pleasant to be knocked down by it three or four times; but he had found that he couldn't have every thing as he wanted it in this world, and the only way to enjoy ourselves wus to take things as they come. Says I, " I s'pose that wus the way you took the sheep ; " and he said, "It was." And then he went on to say in that amiable way of hisen, •' that it probably made it a little harder for him jest at that time, as he wus struck by lightnin' that morn in'." (There had been a awful thunder-storm.) Says Josiah, all excitement, "Did it strike you sensible ?" Says I, "You mean senseless, Josiah Allen." " Wall, I said so, didn't I ? Did it strike you senseless, Mr. Gansey?" "No," he said: it only stunted him. And then he went on a praisin' up our Jonesville lightnin'. He said it wus about the cleanest, quickest lightnin' he ever see. He said he believed we had the smartest lightnin' in our county that you could find in the nation. So good he acted about every thing. It beat all. Why, he hadn't been in the house half an hour when he offered to help me whitewash. I told him I wouldn't let him, for it would spile his clothes, and he hadn't ever been there a visitin' before, and I didn't want to put him to work. But he hung on, and nothin' to do but what he had got to take hold and whitewash. And I had to give up and I 44 SWEET CICELY. let him ; for I thought it wiis better manners to put a visiter to work, than it wus to (Iif5})ute and quarrel Avith 'em : and, of course, he wusn't used to it, and he filled one eye most full of lime. It wus dretful painful, dretful. But I swabbed it out with viniger, and it got easier about the middle of the afternoon. It bein' work that he never done before, the whitewashiii' looked like fury ; but I done it all over after him, and so I got along with it, though it belated me. But his of(erin' to do it showed his good will, anyway. I shouldn't have done any more at all after Elburtus had come, only I had got into the job, and had to finish it ; for I always think it is better manners, when visitors come unexpected, and ketch you in some mean job, to go on and finish it as quick as you can, ruther than to set down in the dirt, and let them, ditto, and tl same. And Josiah was ketched jest as I wus, for he had a piece of whiter wheat that wus s;ilin' to be cut; and he had got the most of it d;)wn, and had to finish it: it wus lodged so he had to cut it by hand, — the machine wouldn't work on it. And jest as quick as Elburtus had got so he could see out of that eye, nothhi' to do but what he had got to go out and help Josiah cut that wheat. He hadn't touched a scythe for years and years, and it wusn't ten minutes before his hands wus blistered on the inside. But he Avould keep at it till the blisters broke, and then he had to stop anyway. He got along quite well after that : only the lot where Josiah wus to work run along by old Bobbet'ses, and he had carried a jug of sweetened water and viniger and ginger out into the lot, and Elburtus had talked so polite SWEET CICELY. 45 m rl- ELBUUTUS KNDKAKIN' HIMSELF TO MI{. ItOIIUKT. and cordial to him, a conversiu' on politics, that he got attaclied to him, and treated him to the sweetened water. ■mr II : ili 46 SWEET CICELY. il ' And Elbiirtus, not wantin' to hurt his feelin's, drinked about 3 quarts. It made him deathly sick, for it went aginst liis stomach from the first : he never loved it. And Miss Bobbet duz fix it dretful sickish, — sweetens it with sale mollasses for one thing. Oh, how sick that feller wus when he come in to supper ! had to lay right down on the lounge. Says I, "Elburtus, what made you drink it, when it went aginst your stomach ? " says I. " Why," says he in a faint voice, and pale round his lips as any thing, "I didn't want to hurt his feelin's by refusin'." Says I, out to one side, "Did you ever, Josiah Allen, see such goodness in your life ? " "• I never see such dumb foolishness," says he. "I'd love to have anybody ketch me a driukin' three or four quarts of such stuff out of politeness." "No," says I coldly: "you hahi't good enough." Wall, t^at night his bed got a fire. It seemed as if every thhig under the sun wus a goin' to happen to that man while he wus here. You see, the house wus all tore U[) a repairin', and I had to put him up-stairs : and the bed had been moved out by carpenters, to plaster a spot behind the bed ; and, unbeknown to me, they had set it too near the stove-pipe. And the hot pipe run right up by the side of it, right by the bed-clothes. It took fire from the piller-case. We smelt a dretful smudge, and Josiah run right up-stairs : it had only jest ketched a fire, and Elburtus was sound asleep ; and Josiah, the minute he see what wus the mat- ter, he jest ketched up the water-pitcher, and throwed the Ni SWEET CICELY. 47 water over him ; and bein' skairt and tremblin', the pitcher flew out of his hand, and went too, and hit Elburtus on the end of his nose, and took a piece of skin right off. He waked up sudden ; and there he wus, all drownded out, and a piece gone off of his nose. Now, most any other man would have acted mad. Josiah would have acted mad as a mad dog, and madder. But you ort to see how good Elburtus took it, jest as quick as he got his senses back. Josiah said he could almost take his oath that he swore out as cross a oath as he ever heavd swore the first minute before he got his eyes opened, but I believe he wus mistaken. But anyway, the minute his senses come back, and he see where he wuz, you ort to see how he behaved. Never, never did I hear of such manners in all my born days ! Josiah told me all about it. There Elburtus stood, with his nose a bleedin', and his whiskers singed, and a drippin' like a mushrat. But, in- stead of jawin' or complainin', the first thing he f 1 wuz, " What a splendid draft our stove must have, or els*, the stove-pipe wouldn't be so hot ! " (I had done some cook- in' late in the evenin', and left a fire in the stove.) And he said our stove-wood must be of the very best quality ; and he asked Josiah where he got it, and if he had to pay any thing extra for that kind. He said he'd give any thing if he could get holt of a cord of such wood as that ! Josiah said he felt fairly stunted to see such manners ; and he went to apologisin' about how awful bad it was for him to get his whiskers singed so, and how it wus a pure axident his lettin' the pitcher slip out of his hand, and he wouldn't have done it for nothin' if he could have ivi 48 SWEET CICELY. helped it, and he wiis afraid it liad hurt him more tlian lie thought for. And such manners as that clever critter showed then I He said he was a calculatin' to get his whiskers cut that very day, and it was all for the hest ; he persunied they wus singed off in jest the shape he wanted 'em : and as for his nose, he wus always ashamed of it ; it wus alwnys too long, and he should he glad if there wus a j)iece gone off of it: Josiali had done him a favor to help him get rid of a piece of it. Why, when Josiah told it all over to me after he come down, I told him "I believed sunthin' would hap[)on to that man before long. I believed he wus too good f(,r earth." Josiah can't bear to hear me praise up any mortal man only himself, and he muttered sunthin' about "he bet lie wouldn't be so tarnel good after 'lection." But I wouldn'^ hear no such talk ; and says I, — "If there wus ever a saint on earth, it is Elburtus Smilii Gansey ; " and bays I, " If you try to vote for anybody e'se, I'll know the reason why." " Wall, wall ! who said I wus a goin' to? I shall pn.b- able vote in the family ; but he hain't no more saint tluui I be." I gin him a witherin' look ; but, as it wus dark as pitcli in the room, he didn't act withered any. And I spoke out agin, and says I, in a low, deep voice, — " If it wus one of the relations on your side, Josiah Allen, you would say he acted dretful good." And he says, " There is such a thing, Samantha, as bein' too good — too dumb good." SWEET CICELY. 40 I didn't multiply any more words with him, and we went to sleep. Wall, that is jest the way that feller acted for tlie next \ five days. Why, the neighbors all got to lovin' hiin so, wliy, they jest about worshipped him. And Josiali said tliat there wuzn't no use a talkin', Elburtus would get the nomination unanimous ; for everybody that had seen him appear (and he had been all over the town appearin' to 'em, and endearin' himself to 'em, cleer out beyond Jones- ville as far as Spoon Settlement and Loontown), wliy, they jest thought their eyes of him, he wus so thoughtful and urbane and helpful. Why, there hain't no telliu' how much helpfuler he v/uz than common folks, and urbaiicr. Why, Josiah and me drove into Jonesville one diiy towards night; and Elburtus had been there all day. Jo- siah had some cross-gut saws that he wanted to get filed, and had happened to mention it before Elburtus ; and nothin' to do but he must go and carry 'em to the man i;i Jonesville that wus goin' to do it, and help him file 'em. Josiah told him we wus goin' over towards night with the team, and could carry 'era as well as not ; and he hadn't better try to help, filin' saws wus such a sort of a raspin' undertakin'. But Elburtus said " he should probably go through more raspin' jobs before he died, or got the nom- ination ; and Josiah could have 'em to bring home that night." So he sot out with 'em walkin' a foot. Wall, when we drove in, I see Elburtus a liftin' and a luggin', a loadin' a big barrell into a double wagon for a farmer ; and I sayi^ — " What under the sun is Elburtus Gansey a doin' ? " And Josiah says, in a gay tone, — 1 •ii: 'i' iL 11 ll I ELBUBTUS APPEABIN*. SWEET CICELY. 51 " He is a electionerin', Samantlia : see him sweat," says he. " Salt is heavy, and political life is wearin', when anybody goes into it deep, and tackles it in the way El- hiirtus tackles it." He seemed to think it wus a joke ; but I says, — " He is jest a killin' himself, Josiah Allen ; and you would set here, and see him." " I hain't a runnin'," says he in a calm tone. " No," says I : *' you wouldn't run a step to help any- body. And see there," says I. "How good, how good that man is ! " Elburtus had finished loadin' the salt, and now he wus a holdin' the horses for the man to load some spring-beds. And the horses wus skairt by 'em, and wuz jest a liftin' Elburtus right up offen his feet. Why, they pranced, and tore, and lifted him up, and switched him round, and then tliey'd set him down with a crash, and whinner. But that man smiled all the time, and took off his hat, and bowed to me : we went by when, he wus a swingin' right up in the air. I never see the beat of his goodness. Why, we found out afterwards, that, besides filin' them saws, he had loaded seven barrells of salt that day, besides other heavy truck. That night he wus perfectly beat out — but good. Josiah said that Philander Dagget'ses wive's brother wouldn't have no chance at all. He wanted the nomina- tion awful, and Philander had been a workin' for him all he could ; and if Elburtus hadn't come down to Jonesville, and showed off such a beautiful demeanor and actions, why, we all thought that Philander's wive's brother would have got it. And I couldn't help feelin' kind o' sorry for 1. 1 h 'I 'm I I % II n 52 SWEET CICELY. him, though highly tickled for Elburtiis. We both of lis, Josiah and me, felt very pleased and extremely tickled to think that Elbiirtus wus so sure of it ; for there wus a good deal of money in the office, besides honor, sights of honor. Wall, when the mornin' of town-meetin' came, that crit- ter wus so awful clever that nothin' to do but what he must help Josiah do the chores. And amongst other chores Josiah had to do that morn- in', wus to carry home a plow that belonged to old Dagget. And old Dt'gget wanted Josiah, when he had got through with it, to carry it to his son Philander's : and Philander had left word that he wanted it that mornin' ; and he wanted it carried down to his lower burn, that stood in a meadow a mile away from any house. Philander'ses land run in such a way that he had to build it there to store his fodder. Wall, time run along, and it got time to start for town- meetin', and Elburtus couldn't be found. I hollered to him from the back stoop, and Jcsiah went out to the barn and hollered ; but nothin' could be seen of him. And Josiah got all ready, and waited, and waited : and I told him that Elburtus had probable got in such a hurry to get there, that he had started on a foot, and he had better drive on, and he would overtake him. So finally he did ; and he drove along clear to Jonesville, expectin' to over- take him every minute, and dian't. And the hull day passed off, and no Elburtus. And nobody had seen him. And everybody thought it looked so curius in him, a dis- apearin' as he did, when they all knew that he had come down to our part of the county a purpose to get the nom- m KLBURTUS HOLDING THE HOUSES. 54 SWEET CICELY. ination. Why, his disapearin' as he did looked so awful strange, that they didn't know what to make of it. And the opposition side. Philander l^aggets'es wivc's brother's friends, started the story that he wus arrested for stealin' a sheep, and wus dragged off to jail that niornin'. Of course Josiah tried to dispute it ; but, as he wus as much in the dark as any of 'em as to where he wuz, his (lisj)utin' of it didn't amount to any thing. And then, Josiah's feelin' so strange about Elburtus made his eyes look kinder glassy and strange when they wus talkin' to him about it ; and they got up the story, so I hearn, that Josiah helped him off with the sheep, and wus feelin' like death to have him found out. And the friends of Philander Daggets'es wive's brother had it all thier own way, and he wus elected almost unan- imous. Wall, Josiah come home early, he wus so worried about Elburtus. He thought mebby he had come back home after he had got away, and wus took sick sudden. And his first words to me wuz, — "Where is Elburtus? Have you seen Elburtus?" And then wus my time to be smit and horrow-struck. And the more we got to thinkin' about it, the more won- derful did it seem to us, that that man had dissapeared right in broad daylight, jest as sudden and luysterious as if the ground had opened, and swallowed him down, or as if he had spread a pair of wings, and flown up into the sky. Not that I really thought he had. I couldn't hardly as- sociate the idee of heaven and endless repose with a short frock-coat and boots, and a blue necktie and a stiff shirt- collar. SWEET CICELY. 55 But, oil ! how strange and mysterious it did seem to be ! We talked it over and over, and we could not think of any thing tliat could happen to liim. He knew enough to keep out of the creek; and there wusn't no woods nigh where he could get lost, and he wus too old to be stole. And so we thought and thought, iind racked our 2 brains. And finally I says, " Wall ! it hain't happened for sev- eral thousand years, but I don't know what to think. We read of folks bein' translated up to heaven when they get too good for earth, and you know I have told you several times that he wus too clever for earth. I have thought he wus not of the earth, earthy." " And I have thought," says he, sort o' snappish, " that he wus of politics, politicky." Says I, " Josiah Allen, I should be afraid, if I wus in your place, to talk in that way in such a time as this," says I. " I have felt, when I see his actions when he wus knocked over by that sheep, and covered with lime, and sot fire to, I have felt as if we wus entertainin' a angel uaawares." " Yes," says he, " it wuz unawares, entirely unawares to me." His axent wus dry, dry as chaff, and as full of ironrj'^ as a oven-door or flat-iron. "Wall," says I, "mebby you will see the time, before the sun rises on your bald head again, that you will be sorry for such talk." Says I, " If it wus one of the rela- tion on your side, mebby you would talk different about him." That touched him ; and he snapped out, — "What do you s'pose I care which side he wus on? And I should think it wus time to have a little sunthin' to eat : it must be three o'clock if it is a minute." r ji 1 \ , ! '■ 1 : 1 1 . 1 1 1 ' ; 5G SWEET CICELY. Says I, " Can you eat, Josiali Allen, in such a time as this?" "I could if I could get any thing to eat," says he ; "but there d(>n't seem to be much prospect of it." Says I, " The best thing you can do, Josiah Allen, is to foller his tracks. The ground is kinder soft and spongy, and you can do it," says I. " Where did he go to last from here ? " "Down to Philander Daggets'es, to carry home his plow." " That angel man ! " says I. " That angel fool ! " says Josiah. " Who asked him to go?" Says I, " When a man gets too good for earth, there is other ways to translate him besides chariots of fire. Who knows but what he has fell down in a fit ! And do you go this minute, Josiah Allen, and foller liis tracks I " " I sha'n't foller nobody's tracks, Samantha Allen, till I have sunthin' to eat." I knew there wuzn't no iise of reasonin' no further with him then ; for when he said Samantha Allen in that axent, I knew he wus as sot as a hemlock post, and as hard to move as one. And so my common sense bein' so firm and solid, even in such a time as this, I reasoned it right out, he wouldn't stir till he had sunthin' to eat. and so the sooner I got his supper, the sooner he would go and foller Elburtus'es tracks. So I didn't spend no more strength a arguin', but kep' it to hurry up ; and my reason is such, strong and vigorous and fur-seein', that I knew the better supper he had, the more animated would be his search. So I got a splendid supper, but quick. il*I SWEET CICELY. 67 u HUNTING FOK KLBU11TU8. i .1' i: 58 SWEET CICELY. But, oh ! all the time I wus a gettin' it, this solemn and awful question wus a hantin' me, — What had become of Elburtus Smith Gansey? What had become of tlie rela- tion on my side? Oh, the feelin's I felt I Oh, tlie emo- tions I carried round with me, from buttery to teakettle, and from teapot to table I But finally, after eatin' longer than it seemed to me he ever eat before (such wus my fee in's), Josiah started (-lit' acrost the lot, towai'ds Daggets'es barn. And 1 stood in the west door, with my hand over my eyes, a watchin' him most every minute he wus gone. And when that man come back, he come a laughin'. And I wus that madded, to have him look in tliat sort of a scorlin' way, tbiit I wouldn't say a word to him ; and he come into the house a laugliin', and sot down and crossed his legs a laughin', and says he, — "What do you s'pose has become of the relation on your side ? " And says he, snickerin' agin, — " You wus in the right on it, Samantha, — he did ass- cend : he went up ! " And agin lie snickered loud. And says I coldly, cold as ice almost, — "If I wuzn't a perfect luny, or idiot, I'd talk as if I knew sunthin'. You know I said that, as one who alle- gores. If you have found Elburtus Gansey, I'd say so, and done with it." " Wall," says he, " you wuz in the right of it, and that is what tickles me. He got locked up in Dagget's barn. He asscended, jest as I told you. He went up the ladder over the hay, to throw down fodder, and got locked up axidentaiy And, as he said "axidental," he snickered worse than ever. SWEET CICELY. 59 And I says, " It is a mean, miserable, good for nothiu', low-lived caper ! And Philander Dagget done it a pur- pose to keep Elbiirtus from the town-meetin', so his wive's brother would get the election. And, if I wus Elburtus Gansey, I'd sue him, and serve a summons on him, and prosicute him." " Why," says Josiah, in the same hilarious axent, and the same scorfin' look onto him, " Philander says he never felt so worked up about any thing in his life, as he did when he unlocked the barn-door tv^-night, and found Elbur- tus there. He said he felt as if he should sink, for he .vus so afraid that some evil-minded person might say he done it a purpose. And he said what made him feel the worst about it wuz to think that he should have shut him up axidental when he wus a helpin' so good." Says I, "The mean, impudent creeter! As good as Elburtus wuz!" " Wall," says Josiah, " you know what I told you, — there is such a thing as bein' too good." I wouldn't multiply no more words on the subject, I wus that wrought up and excited and mad ; and I wouldn't give in a mite to Josiah Allen, and wouldn't want it re- peated now «o he could hear it, but I do s'pose thirt wus the great trouble with Elburtus, — ^^he wus a leetle too good. And, come U> think it over, I don't s'pose Philander had laid any plot to keep him away from 'lection ; but he is a great case for fun, and he had laughed and tickled about Elburtus bein' so polite and helpful, and had made a good deel of fun of him. And then, he thinks a awful sight of his wive's brother, and wanted him to get the election. If m i! ti! GO SWEET CICELY. And I s'pose the idee come to him after Elburtus had got down to the barn where he wus a fodderin' his sheep. You see, if Elburtus had let well enough alone, and not been too good, everj'^ thing would have gone off right then ; but he wouldn't. Nothin' to do but he must help Philan- der get down his fodder. And I s'pose then the idee come to him that he would shet him up, and keep him there till after 'lection wus over. For I don't believe a word about its bein' a axident. And I don't believe Josiah duz, though he pretends he duz. But every time he says that word "axident," he will laugh out so sort o' aggravatin'. That is what mads me to this day. But, as Josiah says, who would have thought that El- burtus would have offered to carry that plow home, and throw down the fodder? But, at any rate. Philander turned the key on him while he wus up over-head, and locked him in there for the day. A meaner, low-liveder, miserabler caper, I never see nor hearc' of. But the way Philander gets out of it (he is a natural liar, and has had constant practice), he don't deny lockin' the door, but he says he wus to work on the outside of the barn, and he s'posed Elburtus had gone out, and gone home ; and he locked the door, and went away. He says (the mean, sneakin', hippocritical creeter !) that he feels like death about it, to think it happened so, and on that day too. And he says what makes him feel the mear st is, to think it was his wive's brother that wus up on the other side, and got the nomination. He says it leaves room for talk. And there it is. You can't sue a man for lockin' his I SWEET CICELY. 61 own barn-door. And Elburtus wouldn't want it brought into court, anyway ; for folks would be a wonderin' so what under the sun he wus a prowlin' round for up over- head in Philander Daggets'es barn. So he wus obliged to let the subject drop, and Philander lias it all his own way. And they say his wive's brother give him ten silver dollars for his help. And that is pretty good pay for turnin' one lock, about 2 seconts' work. Wall, anyway, that wus the last thing that happened to Elburtus in Jonesville ; and whether he took '. polite and easy, or npt, I don't know. For that night, when Philander went down to the barn to fodder, jest before Josiah went there, and let him out (and acted perfectly suprised and horrified at findin' him there, Philander did, so I have been told), Elburtus started a bee-line for the depo, and never come back here at all ; and he left a good new handkerchief, and a shirt, and 3 paper collars. And whether he has kep' on a sufferin', or not, I don't know. Mebby he had his trials in one batch, as you may say, and is now havin' a spell of enjoyments. I am sure, I hope so ; for a cleverer, good-natureder, polite-appearin'er creeter, / never see, nor don't expect to see agin in my life ; and so I tell Josiah. m kMiA CHAPTER III. The next evenin' follerin' after the exodus of Elburtus Gansey, Josiah and I, thinkin' that we needed a relaxation to relax our two minds, rode into Jonesville. We went in the Democrat, at my request ; for I wus in hopes Cicely would come home with us. And she did. We had a good ride. I sot in front with Josiah at his request ; and what made it pleasanter wuz, the boy stood up in the Democrat behind me a good deal of the way, with his arms round my neck, a kissin' me. And when I waked up in the mornin', I wus glad to think they wus there. Though Cicely wuzn't well: I could see she wuzn't. I felt sad at the breakfast-table to see how her fresh young beauty wus bein' blowed away by the sharp breath of sorrow's gale. But she wus sweet and gentle as ever the posy wus we had named her after. No Sweet Cicely blow wus ever sweeter and purer than she wuz. After I got my work all done up below, — she offerin' to help me, and a not lettin' her lift her finger, — I went up into her room, where there wus a bright fire on the hearth, and every thing looked cozy and snug. The boy, havin' wore himself out a harrowin' his uncle 62 SWEET CICELY. 63 Josiah and Ury with questions, had laid down on the crimson rii«^ in front of the fire, and wus fast asleep, get- tin' strength for new labors. And Cicely sot in a little low rockin'-chair by the side of him. She had on a white flannel mornin'-dress, and a thin white zephyr worsted shawl round her ; and her silky brown hair hung down her back, for she had been a brushin' it out ; and she looked sweet and pretty enough to kiss ; and I kissed her right there, before I sot down, or any thing. And then, thinks'es I as I sot down, we will have a good, quiet visit, and talk some about other wimmen. (No runnin' 'era : I'd scorn it, and so would she.) But I thought I'd love to talk it over with her, about what good housekeepers Tirzah Ann and Maggie wuz. And I wanted to hear what she thought about the babe, and if she could say in cander that she ever see a little girl equal her in graces of mind and body. And I wanted to hear all about her aunt Mary and her aunt Melissa (on her father's side). I knew she had had letters from 'em. And I wanted to hear how she that was Jane Smith wuz, that lived neighbor to her aunt Mary's oldest daughter, and how that oldest daughter wuz, who wus s'posed to be a runnin' down. And I wanted to hear about Susan Ann Grimshaw, who had married her aunt Melissy's youngest son. There wus lots of news that I felt fairly suiferin' for, and lots of news that I felt like disseminatin' to her. But, if you'll believe it, jest as I had begun to inquire, and take comfort, she branched right off, a lady-like branch, and a courteous one, but still a branch, and begun to talk about "what should she do — what could she do — for the boy." :?, > 5 'SI ^ I 64 SWr^T CICELY. And she looked down on him as he lay there, witli such a boundless love, and a awful dread in her eyes, that it was pitiful in the extreme to see her ; and says she, — " What will become of him in tlie future, aunt Sainan- tha, with the laws as they are now?'" And with such a chin and mouth as he has got, says I f 5i to myself, lookin' down on him ; but I didn't say it out loud. I am too well bread. "It must be we can get the laws changed before he grows up. I dare not trust him in a world that has sueli temptations, such snares set ready for him. Why," says she — And she fairly trembled as she said it. She would always throw her whole soul into any thing she undertook ; SWEET CICELY. G5 and in this she had throwed her hull heart, too, and her hull life — or so it seemed to me, to look at her juilo face, and her big, glowin' eyes, full of sadness, full of resolve too. "Why, just think of it! How he will be coaxed into those drinking-saloons ! how, with his easy, generous, good-natured ways, — and I know he will liave such ways, and be popular, — a bright, handsome young man, and with plenty of money. Just think of it I how, with tliose open saloons on every side of him, when he can't walk down the street without those gilded bars shining on every hand; and the friends he will make, gay, rich, thoughtless young men like himself — they will laugh at him if he refuses to do as they do ; and with my boy's inherited tastes and temperament, his easiness to be led by th(jse he loves, Avhat will hinder him from going to ruin as his poor father did ? What will keep him, aunt Samantha ? " And she busted out a cryin'. I says, " Hush, Cicely," layin' my hand on hern. It wus little and soft, and trembled like a leaf. Some folks would have called her nervous and excitable ; but I didn't, thinkin' what she had went through with the boy's father. Says I, " There is One who is able to save him. And, instead of gettin' yourself all worked up over what may never be, I think it would be better to ask Him to save the boy." " I do ask Him, every day, every hour," says she, sobbin' quieter like. " Wall, then, hush up. Cicely." And 'sometimes she would hush up, and sometimes she wouldn't. ^m fA ;J I 66 SWEET CICELY. But how she would talk about what she wanted to do for him ! I heard her talkin' to her uncle Josiah one day. You see, she worried about the boy to that extent, and loved him so, that she would have been willin' to have had her head took right off, if that would have helped him, if it would have insured him a safe and happy future ; but it wouldn't : and so she was willin' to do any other hard job if there wus any prospect of its helpin' the boy. She wus willin' to vote on the temperance question. But Josiah wus more sot than usial that mornin' aginst wimmen's votin' ; and he had begun himjrelf on the subject to Cicely ; had talked powerful aginst it, but gentle : he loved Cicely as he did his eyes. He had been to a lecture the night before, to Toad Holler, a little place between Jonesville and Loontown. He and uncle Nate Burpy went up to hear a speech aginst wimmen's suffrage, in a Democrat. Josiah said it wus a powerful speech. He said uncle Nate said, " The feller that delivered it ort to be President of the United States : " he said, " That mind ort to be in the chair." And I said I persumed, from what I had heard of it, that his mind wuz tired, and ort to set down and rest. I spoke light, because Josiah Allen acted so high- headed about it. But I do s'pose it wus a powerful effort, from what I hearn. He talked dretful smart, they say, and used big words. The young feller that gin the lecture, and his sister, wus left orphans and poor ; and she wus a good deal the |i ciJLn^ -v 'D 1 % A GBEAT EFFOKT. 7 i 1 ^ -i' ': :l 1' i;j i| ;i 68 SWEET CICELY. oldest, and she set her eyes by him. She had took care of the old folks, supported 'em and lifted 'em round her- self; took all the care of 'em in every way till they died: and then this boy didn't seem to have mucli faculty for gettin' along ; so she educated him, sewed for tailors' shops, and got money, and sent him to school and college, so he could talk big. And it was such a comfort to that sister, to sort o' rest off for an evenin' from makin' vests and pantaloons, cheap, to furnish him money! — it was so sort o' restful to her to set and hear him talk large aginst winnnen's suffrage and the weakness and ineficiency of wimmen ! He said, the young chap did, and proved it right out, so they said, "that the franchise was too tuckerin' a job for wimmen to tackle, and that wimmen hadn't the earnest- ness and persistency and deep forethought to make her valuable as a franchiser — or safe." You see, he had his hull strength, the young chap did ; for his sister had clothed him, as well as boarded him, and educated him: so he could talk powerful. He could use up quantities of wind, and not miss it, havin' all his strength. His speech made a deep impression on men and wim- men. His sister bein' so wore out, workin' so hard, wept for joy, it was so beautiful, and affected her so powerful. And she said "she never realized till that minute how weak and useless wimmen really was, and how strong and powerful men was." It wus a great effort. And she got a extra good supper for him that night, I heard, wantin' to repair the waste in his system, caused by eloquence. She wus supportin* him till he got a client : he wus a studyin' law. SWEET CICELY. 69 Wall, Josiah wus jest full of his arguments; and he talked 'em over to Cicely that mornin'. But she said, after lieariu' 'em all, "that she wus willin' to vote on the temperance question. She had thought it all over,'' she said. " Thought how the nation lay uuder the curse of African slavery until that race of slaves were freed. And she believed, that when women who were now in legal bondage, were free to act as their heart and reason dictated, that they, who suffered most from intemperance, would be the ones to strike the blow that would free t)ie land from the curse." Curius that she should feel so, but you couldn't get the idee out of her head. She had i)ondered over it day and niglit, she said, — pondered over it, and prayed over it. And, come to think it over, I don't know as it wus so curius after all, when T thought how Paul had ruined himself, and broke her heart, and how her money wus bein' used now to keep grog-shops open, four of her buildin's rented to liquor-dealers, and she couldn't help herself. Cicely owned lots of other landed property in the village where she lived ; and so, of course, her property wus all taxed accordin' to its worth. And its bein' the biggest property there, of course it helped more than any thing else did to keep the streets smooth and even before tlie saloon-doors, so drunkards could get there easy ; and to get new street-lamps in front of the saloons and billiard-rooms, so as to make a real bright light to draw 'em in and ruin 'em. There wus a few — the doctor, who knew how rum ruined men's bodies; and the minister, he knew how it li ! *f ■ B " 1 m 70 SWEET CICELY. ruined men's souls — they two, and a few others, worked awful hard to get the saloons shut up. But the executor, who wanted the town to go license, so's lie could make money, and thinkin' it would be for her interest in the end, hired votes with her money. Her money used to hire liquor-votes! So she heard, and l)elieved. Tlie idee ! So her mone}', and his influence, and the influence of low ai)i)etites, carried the day; and the liquor-traffic won. The men who rented her houses, voted for license to a nuui. Her property used agin to spread the evil! She labored with these men with tears in her eyes. And they liked her. She was dretful good to 'em. (As I say, she held the things of this world with a loose gri^).) They listened to her respectful, stood with their hats in their hands, answerin' her soft, and went soft out of her presence — and voted license to a man. You see, they wus all willin' to give her love and courtesy and kindness, but not the right to do as her heaven-learnt sense of right and wrong wanted her to. She had a fine mind, a pure heart: she had been through the highest schools of the land, and that higher, heavenly school of sufferin', where God is the teacher, and had graduated from 'em with her lofty purposes refined and made luminous with somethin' like the light of Heaven. But those men — many of 'em who did not know a letter of the alphabet, whose naturally dull minds had become more stupified by habitual vice — those men, who wus her inferiors, and her servants in every thing else, wus each one of 'em her king here, and she his slave ; and they compelled her to obey thier lower wills. SWEET CICELY. 71 Wall, Cicely didn't think it wiis light. Curius she should think so, some folks thought, but she did. But all this that wore on her wus as nothin' to what she felt about the bov, — her fears for his future. "What could she do — what could she do for the boy, to make it safer for him in the future?" And I had jest this one answer, that I'd say over and over agin to her, — " Cicely, you can pray ! That is all that wimmen can do. And try to influence him right now. God can take care of the boy." "But I can't keep him with me always; and other influ- ences will come, and beat mine down. And I have prayed, but God don't hear my prayer." And I'd say, calm and soothin', "How do you know, Cicely?" And she says, " Why, how I prayed for help when my poor Paul went down to ruin, through the open door of a grog-shop I If the women of the land had it in their power to do what their hearts dictate, — what the poorest, lowest man has the right to do, — every saloon, every low grog-shop, would be closed.'* She said this to Josiah the mornin* after the lecture I speak of. He sot there, seemin'ly perusin* the almanac ; but he spoke up then, and says, — " You can't sliet up human nater, Cicely : that will jump out any way. As the poet says, ' Nater will caper.' " But Cicely went right on, with her eyes a shinin', and a red spot in her white cheeks that I didn't like to see. " A thousand temptations that surround my boy now, could be removed, a thousand low influences changed into . a : I 72 SWEET CICELY. better, helpful ones. There are drunkards who long, who pray, to have temptations removed out of their way, — those who are trying to reform, and who dare not jiass the door of a saloon, the very smell of the liquor cra/ing them witli the desire for drink. They want helj), tliey J ray to be saved; and we wlio are praying to help tliein are powerless. What if, in the future, my boy should be like one of them, — weak, tempt(3d, longing foi help, and getting nothing but help towards vice and ruin ? H.iven't mothers a right to help those they h/Ve in everj/ way, — by prayer, by influence, by legal right and might?" " It would be a dangerous experiment. Cicely," sa3's Josiah, crossin' his right leg over his left, and turnin' the almanac to another month. "It seems to me sunthin' un- womanly, sunthin' aginst nater. It is turnin' the laws of nater right round. It is perilous to the domestic nature of wimmen." " I don't think so," says I. " Don't you remember, Josiah Allen, how you worried about them hens that we carried to the fair ? They wus so handsome, and such good lay- lers, that I really wanted the influence of them hens to spread abroad. I wanted other folks to know about 'em, so's to have some like 'em. But you worried awfully. You wus so afraid that carryin' the hens into the turmoil of public life would have a tendency to keep 'em from wantin' to make nests and hatch chickens ! But it didn t. Good land ! one of 'em made a nest right there» in the coop to the fair, with the crowd a shoutin' round 'em, and laid two eggs. You can't br^ak up nature's laws; thei/ are laid too deep and strong for any hammer we can get 7\ SWEET CICELY. 78 holt of to toiicli 'em ; all the nations and emph'cs of the world can't move 'em round a notch. "A true woman's dee})est love and desire are for her home and he loved ones, and planted right in by the side 1 '!' samantiia's hens. of these two loves of hern is a deathless instinct and desire to protect and save them from danger. " Good land ! I never heard a old hen called out of her spear, and unhenly, because she would fly out at a hawk, and cackle loud, and cluck, and try to lead her chickens Ii -if '. :ll 1 'l ' 1 '/. 1 1 M r r Jl . Lh ^3 74 SWEET CICELY. off into safety. And while the rooster is a steppin' high, and struttin' round, and lookin' surprised and injured, it is the old hen that saves the chickens, nine times out of ten. "It is against the evil hawks, — men-hawks, — that are ready to settle down, and tear the young and innocent out of the home nest, that wimmen are tryin' to defend thier children from. And men may talk about wimmen's gettin' too excited and zealous ; but they don't cluck and cackle half so loud as the old hen docs, or llutter round half so earnest and fierce. " And the chicken-hawk hain't to be compared for dan- ger to the men-hawks ('icely is tryin' to save her boy from. And I say it is domestic love in her to want to protect nim, and tenderness, and nature, and grace, and — and — every thing." I wus wrought up, and felt deeply, and couldn't ex- press half what I felt, and didn't much care if I couldn't. I wus so rousted up, I felt fairly reckless about carin' whether Josiah or anybody understood me or not. I knew the Lord understood nie, and I knew what I felt in my own mind, and I didn't much care for any thing else. Wimmen do have such spells. They get fairly wore out a tryin' to express what they feel in thier souls to a gain- sayin' world, and have that world yell out at 'em, " Unwo- manly ! unwomanly ! " I say. Cicely wuzn't unwomanly. I say, that, from the very depths of her lovin' little soul, she wus pure womanly, affectionate, earnest, tender-hearted, good ; and, if anybody tells me she wuzn't, I'll know the reason vhy. But, V Ae I wus a reveryin' this, my Josiah spoke out agin', anu says, — SWEET CICELY. 75 " Influence the world through your child, Cicely ! influence him, and let him influence the world. Let him make the world better and purer by your influencein' it through him." "Why not use that influence now, myself? I have it here right in my heart, all that I could hope to teach to my boy, at the best. And why wait, and set my hopes of influencing the world through him, when a thousand things may happen to weaken that influence, and death and change may destroy it? Why, my one great fear and dread is, that my boy will be led away by other, stronger influences than mine, — the temptations that have over- thrown so many other children of prayer — how dare I hope that my boy will withstand them ? And death may claim him before he could bear my influence to the world. Why not use it now, myself, to help him, and other mothers' boys ? If it is, as you say, an experiment, why not let mothers try it ? It could not do any harm ; and it would ease our poor, anxious hearts some, to make the effort, even if it proved useless. No one can have a deeper interest in the children's welfare than their mothers. Would they be apt to do any thing to harm them?" And then I spoke up, entirely unbeknown to myself, and says, — " Selfishness has had its way for years and years in politics, and now why not let unselfishness have it for a change ? For, Josiah Allen," says I firmly, " you know, and I know, that, if there is any unselfishness in this selfish world, it is in the heart of a mother." " It would be apt to be dangerous," says Josiah, crossin' his left leg over his right one, and turnin' to a new month in the almanac. " It would most likely be apt to be." i TT- !' " (I 76 SWEET CICELY. " WhTjf'' says Cicely. " Why is it dangerous? Why is it wrong for a women to try to help them she would die for ? Yes," says she solemnly, " I would die for Paul any time if I knew it would smooth his pathway, make it easier for him to be a good man." " Wall, you see, Cicely," says Josiah in a soft tone, — ■ his love for her softenin' and smoothin' out his axent till it sounded almost foolish and meachin', — " you see, it would be dangerous for wimmen to vote, because votin' would be apt to lower wimmen in the opinion of us men and the public generally. In fact, it would be apt to lower wimmen down to mingle in a lower class. And it would gaul me dretfully," says Josiah, turnin' to me, " to have our sweet Cicely lower herself into a lower grade of society : it would cut me like a knife." And then I spoke right up, for I can't stand too much foolishness at one time from man or woman ; and I says, — " I'd love to have you speak up, Josiah Allen, and tell me how wimmen would go to work to get any lower in the opinion of men ; how they could get into any lower grade of society than they are minglin' with now. They are ranked now by the laws of the United States, and the will of men, with idiots, lunatics, and criminals. And how pretty it looks for you men to try to scare us, and make us think there is a lower class we could get into ! There hain't any lower class that we can get into than the ones we are in now ; and you know it, Josiah Allen. And you sha'n't scare Cicely by tryin' to make her think there : , " IS. He quailed. He knew there wuzn't. He knew he had said it to scare us, Cicely and me, and he felt considerable SWEET CICELY. 7T meacliin' to think he had got found out in it. But he went on in ruther of a meek tone, — " It would be apt to make talk, Cicely." "What do I care for talk?" says she. "What do I care for honor, or praise, or blame? I only want to try to save my boy." And she kep' right on with her tender, earnest voice, and her eyes a shinin' like stars, — "Have I not a right to help him? Is he not mi/ child? Did not God give me a right to him, when I went down into the darkness with God alone, and a soul was given into my hands ? Did I not suffer for him ? Have I not been blessed in him ? Why, his little hands held me back from the gates of death. By all the rights of heavenliest joy and deepest agony — is he not mine? Have I not a right to heb^ iiim in his future ? CICELY AND HEU PEERS. -> immm mmmmmimi mi i iM t mmm T"^ 78 SWEET CICELY. I I ill !' ! r 'fi m . ?(H " Now I hold him in my arms, my flesh, my blood, my life. I hold him on my heart noAv : he is mine. I can shield him from danger : if he should fall into the flames, I could reach in after him, and die with him, or save him. God and man give me that right now : I do not have to ask for it. " But in a few years he will go out from me, carrying my own life with him, my heart will go with him, to joy or to death. He will go out into dangers a thousand-fold worse than death, — dangers made respectable and legal, — and I can't help him. "i^ his mother, who would die for him any hour — I must stand with my eyes open, but my hands bound, and see him rushing headlong into flames tenfold hotter than lire ; see him on the brink of earthly and eternal ruin, and can't reach out my hand to hold him back. My boy / My oicn ! Is it right ? Is it just ? " And she got up, and walked the room back and forth, and says, — " How can I bear the thought of it ? How can I live and endure it? And how can I die, and leave the boy?" And her eyes looked so big and bright, and that spot of red would look so bright on her white cheeks, that I would get skairt. And I'd try to sooth her down, and talk gentle to her. And I says, — " All things are possible with God, and you must wait and hope." But she says, " What will hope do for me when my boy is lost ? I want to save him now." It did beat all, as I told Josiah, out to one side, to see Hk I SWEET CICELY. 79 such hefty principles and emotions in such a little body. Why, she didn't weigh much over 90, if she did any. And Josiah whispered back, "All women hain't like Cicely." And I says in the same low, deep tones, " All men hain't like George Washington ! Now get me a pail of water." And he went out. But it did beat all, how that little thing, when she stood ready, seemin'ly, to tackle the na- tion — I've seen her jump up in a chair, afraid of a mice. The idee of anybody bein' afraid of a mice, and ready to tackle the Constitution ! And she'd blush up red as a rosy if a stranger would speak to her. But she would fight the hull nation for her boy. And I'd try to sooth her (for that red spot on her cheeks skairt me, and I foreboded about her). I said to her after Josiah went out, a holdin' her little hot hands in mine, — for sometimes her hands would be hot and feverish, and then, agin, like two snowflakes, — " Cicely, women's voting on intemperance would, as your uncle Josiah says, be a experiment. I candidly think and believe that it would be a good thing, — a blessin' to the youth of the land, a comfort to the females, and no harm to the males. But, after all, we don't know what it would do " — " JA;»iow^," says she. And her eyes had such a far-off, prophetic look in 'em, that I declare for't, if I didn't al- most think she did know. I says to myself, — " She's so sweet and unselfish and good, that I believe she's more than half-ways into heaven now. The Holy Scriptures, that I believe in, says, ' Blessed are the pure 80 SWEET CICELY. m in heart, for they shall see God.' And it don't say where tiiey shall see IJim, or when. And it don't say that the H<»ht that fell from on higli upon the blessed mother of onr l^ord, shall never fall again on other heart-broken mothers, on other pure sonls beloved of Ilim." And it is the honest truth, that it would not have sur- prised me much sometimes, as she wus settin' in the twi- light with the boy in her arms, if I had seen a lialo round her head ; and so I told Josiah one night, after she liad been a settin' there a holdin' the boy, and a singin' low to him, — ** ' A charge to keep I have, — A God to glorify ; A never-dying soul to save, And fit it for the sky.' " It wuzn't her soul she wus a thinkin' of, I knew. Sl»e didn't think of herself : she never did. And after she went to bed, I mentioned the halo. Aid Josiah asked what that was. And I told him it was " tl.o inner glory that shines out from a pure soul, and crowns a holy life." And he said "he s'posed it was some sort of a hciid- dress. Wimmen was so full of new names, he thought it was some new kind of a crowfar." I knew what he meant. He didn't mean crowfar, 1 e meant croufure. That is French. But I woukln't hut his feelin's by correctm' him; for I thought "fur" cr " fure," it didn't make much of any difference. Wall, the very next day, when Josiah came from Jones- ville, — he had been to mill, — he brought Cicely a letter ^ "A CHABOE TO KEEP I HAVE." J^!*v ' ! it ijii! 82 SWEET CICELY. from her aunt Mary. She wanted her to come on at once; for her daughter, who wus a runnin' down, wus supposed to be a runnin' faster than she had run. And her aunt Mary was goin' to start for the Michigan very soon, — as soon as she got well enough : she wasn't feelin' well when she wrote. And she wanted Cicely to come at once. So she went the next day, but promised that jest as quick as she got through visitin' her aunt and her other relations there, she would come back here. So she went ; and I missed her dretfully, and should have missed her more if it hadn't been for the state my companion returned in after he had carried Cicely to the train. He come home rampant with a new idee. All wrought up about goin' into politics. He broached the subject to me before he onharnessed, hitchin' the old mair for the purpose. He wanted to be United-States senator. He said he thought the nation needed him. " Needs you for what ? " says I coldly, cold as a ice suckle. " Why, it needs somebody it can lean on, and it needs somebody that can lean. I am a popular man," says he. " An I if I can help the nation, I will be glad to do it ; and if the nation can help me, I am willin'. The change from Jonesville to Washington will be agreeable and relaxin', and I lay out to try it." Says I, in sarkastick tones, " It is a pity you hain't got your free pass to go on : — you remember that incident, don't you, Josiah Allen ? " What of it ? " he snapped out. " What if I do ? " Wall, I thought then, that, when you got high-headed n (( SWEET CICELY. 83 and haughty on any subject agin, mebby you would re- member that pass, and be more modest and unassuming." He riz right up, and hollered at me, — " Throw that pass in my face, will you, at this time of year ? " And he started for the barn, almost on the run. But I didn't care. I wus bound to break up this idee of hisen at once. If I hadn't been, I shouldn't have men- tioned the free pass to him. For it is a subject so gnulin' to him, that I never allude to it only in cases of extreme clanger and peril, or uncommon high-headedness. Now T have mentioned it, I don't know but it will be expected of me to tell about this pass of hisen. But, if I do, it mustn't go no further ; for Josiah would be mad, mad as a hen, if he knew I told about it. I will relate the history in ancther epistol. -u i u m ->"' ^ V « \ \ ^9) V n? 6^ % 'V^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 &? IP< % 'Q', CHAPTER IV. This free pass of Josiah Allen's wus indeed a strange incident, and it made sights and sights of talk. But of course there wus considerable lyin' about it, as you know the way is. Why, it does beat all how stories will grow. Why, when I hear a story nowadays, I always allow a full half for shrinkage, and sometimes three-quarters ; and a good many times that hain't enough. Such awful lyin' times ! It duz beat all. But about this strange thing that took place and hap- pened, I will proceed and relate the plain and unvarnished history of it. And what I set down in this epistol, you can depend upcn. It is the plain truth, entirely unvar- nished : not a mite of varnish will there be on it. A little over two years ago Josiah Allen, my companion, had a opportunity to buy a wood-lot cheap. It wus about a mild and a half from here, and one side of the lot run along by the side of the railroad. A Irishman had owned it previous and prior to this time, and had built a little shanty on it, and a pig-pen. But times got hard, the pig died, and owing to that, and other financikal difficulties, the Irishman had to sell the place, "ten acres more or 86 8WEET CICELY. less, runnin' up to a stake, and back again," as the law directs. Wall, he beset my companion Josiah to buy it ; and as he had plenty of money in the Jonesville bank to pay for it, and the wood on our wood-lot wus gettin' pretty well thinned out, I didn't make no objection to the enter- prize, but, on the other hand, I encouraged him in it. And so he made the bargain with him, the deed wus made out, the Irishman paid. And Josiah put a lot of wood- choppers in there to work; and they cut, and drawed the wood to Jonesville, and made money. Made riore than enough the first six months to pay for the expenditure and outlay of money for the lot. He did well. And he calculated to do still better; for he said the place bein' so near Jonesville, he laid out, after he had got the wood off, and sold it, and kep' what he wanted, he calculated and laid out to sell the place for twice what he give for it. Josiah Allen hain't nobody's fool in a bargain, a good deal of the time he hain't. He knows how to make good calculations a good deal of the time. He thought somebody would want the place to build on. Wall, I asked him one day what he laid out to do with the shanty and the pig-pen that wus on it. The pig-pen wus right by the side of the railroad-track. And he said he laid out to tear 'em down, and draw the lumber home: he said the boards would come handy to use about the premises. Wall, I told him I thought that would be a good plan, or words to that effect. I can't remember the exact words I used, not expectin' that I would ever have to remember SWEET CICELY. 87 {I ! !! i I mi back, and lay 'em to heart. Which I should not had it not been for the strange and singular things that occuired and took place afterwards. Then I asked my companion, if I remember rightly, "When he laid out to draw the boards 'iome^" For I mistrusted there would be some planks amongst 'em, and I wanted a couple to lay down from the back-door to the pump. The old ones was gettin' all cracked up and broke in spots. And he said he should draw 'em up the first day he could spare the team. Wall, this wus alor ^ in the first week in April that we had this talk: warm j.id pleasant the weather wus, exceedingly so, for the time of year. And I proposed to him that we should have the children come home on the 8th of April, which wus Thomas J.'s birthday, and have as nice a dinner as we could get, and buy a handsome present for him. And Josiah was very agreeable to the idee (for when did a man ever look scornfully on the idee of a good dinner?). And so the next day I went to work, and cooked up every thing I could think of that would be good. I made cakes of all kinds, and tarts, and jellys. And I wus goin' to have spring lamb and a chicken-pie (a layer of chicken, and a layer of oysters. I can make a chicken- pie that will melt in your mouth, though 1 am fur from bein' the one that ort to say it) ; and I wus goin' to have a baked fowl, and vegetables of all kinds, and every thing else I could think of that wus good. And I baked a largo plum-cake a purpose for Whitfield, with " Our Son " on it in big red sugar letters, and the dates of his birth and the present date on each side of it. 88 8WEET CICELY. ;< I I do well by the children, Josia-h says I do ; and they see it now, the children do ; they see it plainer every day, they say they do. They say, that since they have gone out into the world more, and seen more of the coldness and selfishness of the world, they appreciate more and more the faithful affection of h3r whose name wus once Smith. Yes, they like me better and better every year, they say they do. And they treat me pretty, dretful pretty. I don't want to be treated prettier by anybody than the children treat me. And their affectionate devotion pays me, it pays me richly, for all the care and anxiety they caused me. There hain't no paymaster like Love : he pays the best wages, and the most satisfyin', of anybody I ever see. But I am a eppisodin', and to resoom and continue on. Wall! the dinner passed off perfectly delightful and agreeable. The children and Josiah eat as if — Wall, suffice it to say, the way they eat wus a great compliment to the cook, and I took it so. Thomas J. wus highly delighted with his presents. I got him a nice white willow rockin '-chair, with red ribbons run all round the back, and bows of the same on top, and a red cushion, — a soft feather cushion that I made myself for it, covered with crimson rep (wool goods, very nice). Why, the cushion cost me above 60 cents, besides my work and the feathers. Josiah proposed to get him a acordeun, but I talked him out of that ; and then he wanted to get him a bright blue necktie. But I perswaided him to give him a hand- some china coffee cup and saucer, with " To My Son " ^ I SWEET CICELY. painted on it ; and I urged him to give him that, with ten new silver dollars in it. Says I, " He is all the son you have got, and a good son." And Josiah consented after a parlay. Why, the chair I give him cost about as much as that ; and it wuzn't none too good, not at all. Wall, he had a lovely day. And what made it pleas- anter, we had a prospect of havin' another jest as good. For in about 2 months' time it would be Tirzah's Ann's birthday ; and we both told her, Josiah and me, both did, that she must get ready for jest another such a time. For we laid out to treat 'em both alike (which is both Christian and common sense). And we told 'em they must all be ready to come home that day. Providence and the weather permittin'. Wall, it wus so awful pleasant when the children got ready to go home, that Josiah proposed that he and me should go along to Jonesville with 'em, and carry little Samantha Joe. And I wus very agreeable to the idee, be in' a little tired, and thinkin' such a ride would be both restful and refreshin'. And, oh ! how beautiful every thing looked as we rode along ! The sun wus goin' down in glory ; and Jonesville layin' to the west of us, we seemed to be a ridin' along right into that glory — right towards them golden palaces, and towers of splendor, that riz up from the sea of gold. And behind them shinin' towers wus shadowy mountain ranges of softest color, that melted up into the tender blue of the April sky. And right in the east a full moon wuz sailin', lookin' down tenderly on Josiah and me and the babe — and Jonesville and the world. And the comet sot there up in the sky like a silent and shinin' mystery. :H; !i? 90 SWEET CICELY. > i I The babe's eyes looked big and dreamy and thoughtful. She has got the beautifulest eyes, little Samantha Joe has. You can look down deep into 'em, and see yourself in 'em ; but, beyond yourself, what is it you can see ? I can't tell, nor nobody. The ellusive, wonderful beauty that lays in god's comma. the innocent baby eyes of little Samantha Joe. The swofit, fur-off look, as if she wus a lookin' right through this world into a fairer and more peaceful one. And how smart they be, who can answer their question- ing, — questionin' about every thing. Nobody can't — i [ SWEET CICELY. 91 Josiah can't, nor I, nor nobody. Pretty soon she looked up at the comet ; and says she, " Nama," — she can't say grandma, — " Nama, is that God's comma ? " Now, jest see how deep that wuz, and beautiful, very. The heavens wuz full of the writin' of God, writin' we can't read yet, and translate into our coarser language ; and she, with her deep, beautiful eyes, a readin' it jest as plain as print, and puttin' in all the marks of punctuation. Readin' the marvellous poem of glory, with its tremblin' pause of flame. Josiah says, it is because she couldn't say comet ; but I know better. Says I, "Josiah Allen, hain't it the same shape as a comma ? " And he had to gin it up that it was. And in a minute or two she says agin, — " Nama, what is the comma up there for ? " Now hear that, how deep that wuz. Who could answer that question ? I couldn't, nor Josiah couldn't. Nor the wisest philosopher that ever walked the earth, not one of 'em. From them that kept their night-watches on the newly built pyramids, to the astronimers of to-day who are spending their lives in the study of the heavens. If every one of them learned men of the world, livin' and dead, if they all stood in rows in our door-yard in front of little Samantha Joe, they would have to bow their haughty heads before her, and put their finger on their lips. Them lips could say very large words in every lan- guage under the sun ; but they couldn't answer my baby's question, not one of 'em. But I am eppisodin' fearfully, fearfully; and to re- soom. i t i 92 SWEET CICELY. We left the children and the babe safe in their respec- tive housen', and happy ; and we went on placidly to Jonesville, got our usual groceries, and stopped to the post-office. Josiah went into the office, and come out with his " World," and one letter, a big letter with a blue envelope. I thought it had a sort of a queer look, but I didn't say nothin'. And it bein' sort o' darkish, he didn't try to open it till we got home. Only I says, — "Who do you s'pose your letter is from, Josiah Allen?" And he says, " I don't know : the postmaster had a awful time a tryin' to make out who it was to. I should think, by his tell, it wus the dumbdest writin' that ever wus seen. I should think, by his tell, it went ahead of yourn." "Wall," says I, "there is no need of your swearin'." Says I, "If I wus a grandfather, Josiah Allen, I would choose my words with a little more decency, not to say morality." ' " Wall, wall I your writin' is enough to make a man sweal, and you know it." " I hadn't disputed it," says I with dignity. And havin* laid the blame of the bad writin' of the letter he had got, off onto his companion, as the way of male pardners is, he felt easy and comfortable in his mind, and talked agree- able all the way home, and affectionate, some. Wall, we got home ; and I lit a light, and fixed the fire so it burnt bright and clear. And I drawed up a stand in front of the fire, with a bright crimson spread on it, for the lamp ; and I put Josiah's rockin'-chair and mine, one on each side of it ; and put Josiah's slippers in front of the hearth to warm. And then I took my knittin'-work, SWEET CICELY. JOSIAU BEADINO TUE LETTEB. 94 SWEET CICELY. and went to knittin' ; and by that time Josiah had got his barn-chores all done, and come in. And the very first thing he did after he come in, and drawed off his boots, and wondered "why under the gracious heavens it was, that the bootjack never could be found where he had left it " (which was right in the mid- dle of the settin'-room floor). But he found it hangin' up in its usual place in the closet, only a coat had got hung up over it so he couldn't see it for half a minute. And after he had his warm slippers on, and got sot down in his easy-chair opposite to his beloved companion, lie grew calmer again, and more placider, and drawed out that letter from his pocket. Ana I sot there a knittin', and a watchin' my compan- i;)n's face at the same time ; and I see that as he read the letter, he looked smut, and sort o' wonder-struck : and s.iys I, — *' Who is your letter from, Josiah Allen ? " And he says, lookin' up on top of it, — " It is from the headquarters of the Railroad Company ; " and says he, lookin' close at it agin, "As near as I can make out, it is a free pass for me to ride on the rail- road." Says I, " Why, that can't be, Josiah Allen. Why should they give you a free pass? " " I don't know," says he. " But I know it is one. The more I look at it," says he, growin' excited over it, — " the more I look at it, the plainer I can see it. It is a free pass." ' Says I, " I don't believe it, Josiah Allen." " Wall, look at it for yourself, Samantha Allen " (when i SWEET CICELY. 95 he is dretful excited, he always calls me Samantha Allen), " and see what it is, if it hain't that ; " and he throwed it into my lap. I looked at it close and severe, but not one word could I make out, only I thought I could partly make out the ^ *-»»- ^ t-»/^ COPT OF THE LETTBB: FREE PASS. word "remove," and along down the sheet the word " place," and there wus one word that did look like " free." And Josiah jumped at them words ; and says he, — " It means, you know, the pass reads like this, for me to remove myself from place to place, free. Don't you see through it?" says he. i 96 SWEET CICELY. \ \ \^ ti i! 1 f I " No," says I, holdin' the paper np to the hght. " No, I don't see through it, far from it." " Wall," says he, highly excited and tickled, " I'll try it to-morrow, anyway. I'll see whether I am in the right, or not." And he ''^ nt on dreamily, "Lemme see — I have got to move tha. lumber in the mornin' up from my wood-lot. But it won't take me more'n a couple of hours, or so, and in the afternoon I'll take a start." Says I, " What under the sun, Josiah Allen, should the Railroad Company give you a free pass for ? " "Wall," says he, "I have my thoughts." lie spoke in a dretful sort of a mysterious way, but proud; and I says, — " What do you think is the reason, Josiah Allen ? " And he says, "It hain't always best to tell what you think. I hain't obleeged to," says he. And I says, "No. As the poet saith, nobody hain't obleeged to use common sense unless they have got it ; " and I says, in a meauin' tone, "No, I can't obleege you to tell me." Wall, sure enough, the next day, jest as quick as he got that lumber drawed up to the house, Josiah Allc?i dressed up, and sot off for Jonesville, and come home at night as tickled a man as I ever see, if not tickleder. And he says, " Now what do you think, Samantha Allen ? Now what do you think about my ridin' on that pass?" And I says, " Have you rode on it, Josiah Allen ? " And he says, " Yes, mom, I have. I have rode to Loon- town and back ; and I might have gone ten times as fur, and not a word been said." \ .■ t SWEET CICELY. 97 i»» And I says, "What did the conductor say?' And he says, "He didn't say nothin'. When he asked me for my fare, I told him I had a free pass, and I showed \ it to him. And he took it, and looked at it close, and Nl LOOKING DUBERSOME. took out his specks, and looked and looked at it for a number of minutes ; and then he handed it back to me, and I put it into my pocket ; and that wus all there was of it." ■5 : ! , '1 ,98 SWEET CICELY. Says I, "How did the conductor look when he Wcas a readin' it?" And he owned up that he looked dubersome. But, says he, "I rode on it, and I told you that I could." " Wall," says I, sithin', " there is a great mystery about It." Says he, " There hain't no mystery to me." And then I beset him agin to tell me what he thought the reason wus they give it to him. And he said "he thought it was because he was so smart." Says he, " I am a dumb smart feller, Samantha, though I never could make you see it as plain as I wanted to." And then says he, a goin' on prouder and prouder every minute, — "I am pretty-lookin'. 1 am what you might call a orniment to any ciar on the track. I kinder set a car off, and make *em look respectable and dressy. And I'm what you might call a influential man, and I s'pose the rail- road-men want to keep the right side of me. And they have took the right way to do it. T shall speak well of 'em as long as I can ride free. And, oh ! what solid com- fort I shall take, Samantha, a ridin' on that pass ! I calculate to see the world now. And there is nothin' under the sun to hender you from goin' with me. As long as you are the wife of such a influential and popular man as I be, it don't look well for you to go a mopein' along afoot, or with the old mare. We will ride in the future on my free pass." > .. - "No," says I. "I sha'n't ride off on a mystery. I prefer a mare.'* - Says he, for he wus that proud and excited that you couldn't stop him nohow, — SWEET CICELY. 99 " It will be a dretful savin' of money, but that hain't what I think of the most. It is the honor they are a heapin' onto me. To think that they think so much of me, set such a store by me, and look up to me so, that they send me a free pass without my makin' a move to ask for it. Why, it shows plain, Samantha, that I am one of the first men of the age." And so he would go on from hour to hour, and from day to day ; and I wus that dumbfoundered and wonderin' about it, that I couldn't for my life tell what to think of it. It worried me. But froin that day Josiah Allen rode on that pass, every chance he got. Why, he went to the Ohio on it, ^>n a visit to his first wive's sister; and he went to Michigan on it, and to the South, and everywhere he could think of. Why, he faliiy hunted up relations on it, and I told him so. And after he got 'em hunted up, he'd take them onto that pass, and ride round with 'em on it. And he told every one of 'em, he told everybody, that he thought as much agin of the honor as he did of the money. It showed that he wus thought so much of, not only in Jonesville, but the world at large. Why, he took such solid comfort in it, that it did hon- estly seem as if he grew fat, he wus so puffed up by it, and proud. And some of the neighbors that he boasted so before, wus eat up with envy, and seemed mad to think he had come to such honor, and they hadn't. But the madder they acted, the tickleder he seemed, and more prouder, and high-headeder. " But I could not feel so. I felt that there wus sunthin' 100 SWEET CICELY. strange and curius about it. And it wus very, very seldom that Josiah could get me to ride on it. Though I did take a few short journeys on it, to please him. But I felt sort o' uneasy while I was a ridin' on it, same as you feel when you are goin' up-hill with a heavy load and a little horse. You kinder stand on your feet, and lean forward, as if your bein' oncomforiable, and standin' up, helped the horse some. 1 had a good deal of that restless feelin', and oneasy. And as I told Josiah time and time again, "that for stiddy ridin' I preferred a mare to a mystery." Wall, it run along for a year ; and Josiah said he s'posed he'd have to write on, and get the pass renewed. As near as he could make out, it run out about the 4th day of April. So he wrote down to the head one in New-York village ; and the answer came back by return mail, and wrote in plain writin' so we could read it. It seemed there wus a mistake. It wuzn't a free pass, it wus a order for Josiah Allen to remove a pig-pen from his place on the railroad-track within three days. There it wuz, a order to remove a nuisence ; and Josiah Allen had been a ridin' on it for a year, with pride in his mean, and haughtiness in his demeanor. Wall, I never see a man more mortified and cut up than Josiah Allen wuz. If he hadn't boasted so over its bein' gin to him on account of his bein' so smart and popular and etcetery, he wouldn't have felt so cut up. But as it was, it bowed down his bald head into the dust (allegory). But he didn't stay bowed down for any length of time : truly, men are constituted in such a way that mortification don't show on 'em for any length of time. . ,,^ . ^. ^ SWEET CICELY. 101 But it made sights and sights of talk in Jonesville. The Jonesvillians made sights and sights of fun of him, poked fun at him, and snickered. I myself didn't say much : it hain't my way. I merely says this : says I, — " You thought you wus so awful popular, Josiah Allen, mebby you won't go rouna with so haughty a mean onto you right away." " Throw my mean in my face if you want to," sa3'^s he. " But I guess," says he, " it will learn 'em another time to take a little more pains with their duck's tracks, dumb 'em ! " Says I, " Stop instantly." And he knew what I meant, and stopped. L I JOSIAU AND UIS JUELATIONS OX THE PASS (p. 00). CHAPTER V. m JosTATi is as kind-hearted a man as was ever made. And he loves me with a devotion, that though hidden some- times, like volcanic fires, and other married men's affec- tions for their wives, yet it bursts out occasionally in spurts and jets of unexpected tenderness. Now, the very next mornin' after Cicely left for her aunt Mary's, he gave me a flaming proof of that hidden fire that burns but don't consume him. A agent come to our dwelling, and with the bland and amiable air of their sect, asked me, — " If I would buy a encyclopedia ? " I was favorable to the idee, and showed it by my looks and words ; but Josiah wus awful set against it. And the more favorable I talked about it, the more horrow-struck and skairt Josiah Allen looked. And finally he got behind the agent, and winked at me, and made motions for me to foUer him into the buttery. He wunk several times be- fore I paid much attention to 'em ; but finally, the winks grew so violent, and the motions so imperious, yet clever, that I got up, and foUered him into the buttery. He shet the door, and stood with his back against it ; and says to me, with his voice fairly trembliu' with his emotions, — 102 SWEET CICELY. 103 " It will throw you, Samantha I you don't want to buy it." " What will throw me ? and when ? " says I. " Why," says he, " you can't never ride it ! How should I feel to see you on one of 'em ! It skairs me most to death to see a boy ride 'em ; and at your age, and with your rheumatiz, you'd get throwed, and get your neck broke, the first day." Says he, " If you have got to have something more stylish, and new-fangled than the old mair, I'd luther buy you a philosopher. They are easier- going than a encyclopedia, anyway." " A philosopher ? " says I dreamily. " Yes, such a one as Tom Gowdey has got.'* Says I, " You mean a velocipede ! " "Yes, and I'll get you one ruther than have you ridin' round the country on a encyclopedia." His tender thoughtfulness touched my heart, and I ex- plained to him all about 'em. He thought it was some kind of a bycicle. And he brightened up, and didn't make no objections to my gettin' one. Wall, that very afternoon he went to Jonesville, and come home, as I said, all rousted up about bein' a senator. I s'pose Elburtus'es bein' there, and talkin' so much on politics, had kinder sot him to thinkin' on it. Anyway, he come home from Jonesville perfectly rampant with the idee of bein' United-States senator. "He said he had been approached on the subject.'* He said it in that sort of a haughty, high-headed way, such as men will sometimes assume when they think they have had some high honors heaped onto 'em. Says I, " Who has approached you, Josiah Allen ? " I 104 SWEET CICELY. JOSIAH BKIMG APPROACHED. "Wall," he said, "it might be a foreign minister, and it might be uncle Nate Gowdey." He thought it wouldn't be best to tell who it was. " But," says he, " I am bound SWEET CICELY. 106 to be senator. Josiah Allen, M.C., will probable be wrote on my letters before another fall. I am bound to run." Says I coldly, " You know 3^0 u can't run. You are as lame as you can be. You have got the rheumatiz the worst kind." Says he, " I mean runnin' with political legs — and I do want to be a senator, Saraantha. I want to, like a dog. I want the money there is in it, and I want the honor. You know they have elected me path-master, but I hain't a goin' to accept it. I tell you, when anybody gets into political life, ambition rousts up in 'em : path-master don't satisfy me. I want to be senator : I want to, like a dog. And I don't lay out to tackle the job as Elburtus did, and act too good." " No ! " says I sternly. " There hain't no danger of your bein' too good." " No : I have laid my plans, and laid 'em careful. The relation on your side was too willin', and too clever. And witnessin' his campaign has learnt me some deep lessons. I watched the rocks he hit aginst; and I have laid my plans, and laid 'em careful. I am going to act offish. I feel that offishness is my strong holt — and endearin' my- self to the masses. Educatin' public sentiment up to lovin' me, and urgin' me not to be so offish, and to obleege 'em by takin' a office — them is my 2 strong holts. If I can only hang back, and act on willin', and get the masses fierce to elect me — why, I'm made. And then, I've got a plan in my head." I groaned, in spite of myself. " I have got a plan in my head, that, if every other plan fails, will elect me in spite of the old Harry.'* h ;\ 106 8WEET CICELY. Oh ! how that oath grated against my nerve ! And how I hung back from this idee ! I am one that looks ahead. And I says in firm tones, — "You never would get the nomination, Josiah Allen I And if you did, you never would be elected." •' Oh, yes, I ahould ! " says he. But he continued dreamily, "There would have to be considerable wire- pullin'." "Where would the wires be?" says I sternly. "And who would pull 'em ? " " Oh, most anywhere I " says he, lookin' dreamily up onto the kitchen ceilin', as ii" wires wus liable to be let down anywhere through the plasterin'. Says I, " Should you have to go to pullin' wires ? " " Of course I should," says he. "Wall," says I, "you nuiy as well make up your mind in the first ont, that I hain't goin' to give my consent to have you go into any thing dangerous. I hain't goin' to have you break your neck, at your age." Says he, " I don't know but my age is as good a age to break my neck in as any other. I never sot any particu- lar age to break my neck in." " Make fun all you are a mind to of a anxious Saman- tha," says I, " but I will never give my consent to have you plunge into such dangerous enterprizes. And talkin' about pullin' wires sounds dangerous: it sounds like a circus, somehow; and how would you^ with your back, look and feel performin' like a circus?" ; t " Oh, you don't understand, Samantha ! the wires hain't pulled in that way. You don't pull 'em with your hands, you pull 'em with your minds." SWEET CICELY. 107 " Oh, wall ! " says I, brightenin' up. " You are all right in that case: you won't pull hard enough to hurt you any." I knew the size and strength of his mind, jest as well as if I had took it out of his head, and weighed it on the steel- yards. It was not over and above large. I knew it ; and he knew that I knew it, because I have had to sometimes, in the cause of Right, remind him of it. But he knows* that my love for him towers up like a dromedary, and moves off through life as stately as she duz — the drome- dary. Josiah was my choice out of a world full of men. I love Josiah Allen. But to resoom and continue on. Josiah says, " Which side had I better go on, Saman- tha ? " Says he, kinder puttin' his head on one side, and lookin' shrewdly up at the stove-pipe, " Would you run as a Stalwart, or a Half-breed ? " Says I, "I guess you would run more like a lame hen' than a Stalwart or a Half-breed; or," says I, "it would depend on what breeds they wuz. If they wus half snails, and half Times in the primers, maybe you could get ahead of 'em." " I should think, Samantha Allen, in such a time as this, " you would act like a rational bein'. I'll be hanged if I know what side to go on to get elected ! " Says I, "tijsiah Allen, hain't you got any principle? Don't you know what side you are on ? " " Why, yes, I s'pose I know as near as men in gineral. I'm a Democrat in times of peace. But it is human nater, • to want to be on the side that beats." I sithed, and murmured instinctively, " George Wash- ; ingtoni" 108 SWEET CICELY. " George Granny ! " says lie. I sithed agin, and kep' sithin'. Says I, "It is bad enough, Josiah Allen, to have you talk about runnin' for senator, and puUin' wires, and et- eetery. But, oh, oh ! my agony to think my partner is destitute of principle." " I have got as much as most i)olitical men, and you'll find it out so, Samantha." My groans touched his heart — that man loves me. * I am goin' to work as they all do. But wimmen hain't no heads for business, and I always said so. They don't look out for the profits of things, as men do." I didn't say nothin' only my sithes, but they spoke volumes to any one who understood their language. But anon, or mebby before, — I hadn't kep' any particular account of time, but I think it wus about anon, — when another thouglit struck me so, right in my breast, that it most knocked me over. It hanted me all the rest of that day : and all that night I lay awake and worried, and I'd sithe, and sposen the case ; and then I'd turn over, and sposen the case, and sithe. Sposen he would be elected — I didn't really think he would, but I couldn't for my life help sposen. Sposen lie would have to go to Washington. I knew strange things took place in politics. Strange men run, and run fur: some on 'em run clear to Washington. Mebby he would. Oh ! how I groaned at the idee ! I thought of the awfulness of that place as I had heard it described upon to me ; and then I thought of the weak- ness of men, and their liability to be led astray. I thought of the powerful blasts of temptation that bio wed through h SWEET CICELY. 109 them broad streets, and the small size of my pardner, and the light weight of his bones and principles. And I felt, if things wuz as they had been deplete red to me, he would (in a moral sense) be lifted right up, and blowed away — bones, principles, and all. And I trembled. At last the idee knocked so firm aginst the door of my heart, that I had to let it in. That I must^ I mu8t go to Washington, as a forerunner of Josiah. I must go ahead of him, and look round, and see if my Josiah could pass through with no smell of fire on his overcoat — if there wuz any possibility of it. If there wuz, why, I should stand still, and let things take their course. But if my worst apprehensions wuz real- ized, if I see that it was a place where my pardner would lose all the modest worth and winnin' qualities that first endeared him to me — why, I would come home, and throw all my powerful influence and weight into the scales, and turn 'em round. Of course, I felt that I should have to make some pre- text about goin' : for though I wus as innocent as a babe of wantin' to do so, I felt that he would think he wus bein' domineered over by me. Men are so sort o' high- JOSIAU BEING ULOWN AWAY. i! i 1 110 SWEET CICELY. II headed and haughty about some things ! But I felt T could make a pretext of George Washington. That dear old martyr ! I felt truly I would love to weep upon his tomb. And so I told Josiah the next mornin', for I thought I would tackle the subject at once. And he says, — " What do you want to weep on his tomb for, Samantha, at this late day ? " Says I, " The day of love and gratitude never fades into night, Josiah Allen : the sun of gratitude never goes down ; it shines on that tomb to-day jest as bright as it did in 1800." " Wall, wall ! go and weep on it if you want to. But I'll bet half a cent that you'll cry onto the ice-house, as I've heard of other wimmen's doin'. Wimmen don't see into things as men do." " You needn't worry, Josiah Allen. I shall cry at the right time, and in the right place. And I think I had better start soon on my tower." I always was one to tav '^le hard jobs immejutly and to once, so's to get 'em offen' my mind. *' Wall, I'd like to know," says he, in an injured tone, '* what you calculate to do with me while you are gone ? " " Why," says I, " I'll have the girl Ury is engaged to, come here and do the chores, and work for herself; they are goin' to be married before long : and I'll give her some rolls, and let her spin some yarn for herself. She'll be glad to come." " How long do you s'pose you'll be gone ? She hain't no cook. I'd as lives eat rolls, as to eat her fried cakes." " Your pardner will fry up 2 pans full before she goes, Josiah ; and I don't s'pose I'll be gone over four days." M r i n I .-: SWEET CICELY. Ill " Oh, well ! then I guess I can stand it. But you had better make some mince-pies ahead, and other kinds of pies, and some fruit-cake, and cookies, and tarts, and things : it is always best to be on the safe side, in vittles." So it wus agreed on, — that T should fill two cubbard shelves full of provisions, to help him endure my absence. I wus some in hopes that he might give up the idee of bein' United-States senator, and I might have rest from my tower ; for I dreaded, oh, how I dreaded, the job ! But as day by day passed, he grew more and more ram- pant with the idee. He talked about it all the time daytimes ; and in the night I could hear him murmur to himself, — " Hon. Josiah Allen ! " And once I see it in his account-book, " Old Peedick debtor to two sap-buckets to Hon. Josiah Allen." And he talked sights, and sights, about what he wus goin' to do when he got to Washington, D.C. — what great things he wus goin' to do. And I would get wore out, and say to him, — " Wall ! you will have to get there first." " Oh ! you needn't worry. I can get there easy enough. I s'pose I shall have to work hard jest as they all do. But as I told you before, if every thing else fails, I have got a grand plan to fall back on — sunthin' new and uneek. Jooiah Allen is nobody's fool, and the nation will find it out so." Then, oh, how I urged him to tell his plan to his lovin' pardner ! but he wouldn't tell. But hours and hours would he spend, a tellin' me what } 112 SWEET CICELY. ' great things he wus goin' to do when he got to Washing- ton. Sfiys he, "There is one thing about it. When I get to be United-States senator, uncle Nate Gowdey shall be promoted to some high and responsible place." "Without thinkin' whether he is fit for it or not?" says I. " Yes, mom, without thinkin' a thing about it. I am bound to help the ones that help me." "You wouldn't have him examined," says I, — "wouldn't have him asked no questions ? " "Oh, yes! I'd have him pass a examination jest as the New- York alderm n do, or the civil-service men. I'd say to him, ' T^e you . ucle Nate Gowdey? ' " ' Yes.' " * How long have you been uncle Nate Gowdey? ' " And he'd answer ; and I'd say, — " ' How long do you calculate to be uncle Nate ? * "And he'll tell ; and then I'll say, — "'Enough: I see you have all the qualifications for office. You are admitted.' That is what I would do." I groaned. But he kep' on complacently, " I am goin' to help the ones that elect me, sink or swim ; and I calcu- late to make money out of the project, — money and honor. And I shall do a big work there, — there hain't no doubt of it. " Now, there is political economy. I shall go in strong for that. I shall say right to Congress, the first speech I make to it, I shall say, that there is too much money spent now to hire votes with ; and I shall prove it right out, that we can get votes cheaper if we senators all join in 1 SWEET CICELY. 113 together, and put our feet right down that we won't pay only jest so much for a vote. But as long as one man is willin' to pay high, why, everybody else has got to fol- ler suit. And there hain't no economy in it, not a mite. " Then, there is the canal question. I'll make a thorough end of that. There is one reform that will be pushed right through." " How will you do it ? " says I. " I will have the hull canal cleaned out from one end to the other." " I was readin' only yesterday," says I, " about the cor- ruption of the canal question. But I didn't s'pose it meant that." " That is because you hain't a man. You hain't got the mind to grasp these big questions. The corruption of the canal means that the bottom of the canal is all covered with dead cats and things ; and it ort to be seen to, by men that is capable of seein' to such things. It ort to be cleaned out. And I am the man that has got the mind for it," says he proudly. "Then, there is the Star Route. Nothin' but foolish- ness from beginnin' to end. T^ey might have known they couldn't make any road through the stars. Why, the very Bible is agin it. The ground is good enough for me, and for any other solid man. It is some visionary chap that begun it in the first place. Nothin' but dumb foolishness ; and so uncle Nate Gowdey said it was. We got to talkin' about it yesterday, and he said it was a pity wimmin couldn't vote on it. He said that would be jest about what they would be likely to vote for. " He is a smart old feller, uncle Nate is, for a man of his p 1 t ■ I i ■ i i 1 1 i ' i ( , i \ i ■ ; i 114 SWEET CICELY. age. . He talked awful smart about wimmin's votin'. He said any man was a fool to think that a woman would ever JOSIAH S STAU UOUTK. have the requisit grasp of intellect, and the knowledge of public affairs, that would render her a competent voter. 1 SWEET CICELY. 115 " I tell you, you have got to understand things in order to tackle politicks. Politicks takes deep study. " Now, there is the tariff question, and the revenue. I shall most probable favor 'em, and push 'em right through." " How ? " says I. " Oh, wall ! a woman most probable couldn't under- stand it. But I shall push 'em forward all I can, and lift 'em up." "Where to?" says I. " Oh, keep a askin', and a naggin' ! That is what wears out us public men, — wimmin's questionin'. It hain't so much the public duties we have to perform that ages us, and wears us out before our time, — it is woman's weak curiosity on public topics, that her mind is too feeble to grasp holt of. It is wearin'," says he haughtily. Says I, " Specially when they don't know what to an- swer." Says I, " Josiah Allen, you don't know this min- ute what tariff means, or revenue." "Wall, I know what starvation means, and I know what vittles means, and I know I am as hungry as a bear." Instinctively I hung on the teakettle. And as Josiah see me pare the potatoes, and grind the coffee, and pound the steak, he grew very pleasant again in his demeanor ; and says he, — -. ' ■ . f " There will be some abuses reformed when I get to Washington, D.C. ; and you and the nation will see that there will. Now, there is the civil-service law: Uncle Nate and I wus a talkin' about it yesterday. It is jest what we need. Why, as uncle Nate said, hired men hain't civil at all, nor hired girls either. You hire 'em to serve 116 SWEET CICELY. IS '. .' 1 . [ I you, and to serve you civil ; and they are jest as dumb uppish and impiulent as they can be. And hotel-clerks — now, they don't know wliiit civil-service means." " Why, uncle Nate said when he went to th<. Ohio, last fall, he stayed over night to Cleveland, and the \u tel-clerk sassed him, jest because he wanted to blow out 1 is light : he wanted uncle Nate to turn it off. "And uncle Nate jest spoke right up, smart as a whip, and said, ' Old-fashioned ways was good enough for him : blows wus made before turners, and he should blow it out.' "And the hotel-clerk sassed him, and swore, and threat- ened to make him leave." " And ruther than have a fuss, uncle Nate said he turned it out. But it rankled, uncle Nate says it did, it rankled deep. And he says he wants to vote for that special. He says he'd love to make that clerk eat humble-pie. " Uncle Nate is a sound man : his head is level. "And good, sound platforms, that is another reform, uncle Nate said we needed the Avorst kind, and he hoped I would insist on it when I got to be senator. He said there was too much talk about 'em in the papers, and too little done about 'em. Why, Elam Gowdey, uncle Nate's youngest boy, broke down the platform to his barn, and went right down through it, with a load of hay. And nothin' but that hay saved his neck from bein' broke. It spilte one of his horses. " Uncle Nate had been urgin' him to fix the platform, or build a new one ; but he was slack. But, as uncle Nate says, if such things are run by law, they will have to be done. " And then, there is another thing uncle Nate and I was SWEET CICELY. 117 talkin' about," says he, lookin' very amiable at me as I rolled out my cream biscuit — almost spooney. UNCIVII. SERVICE. "I shall jest run every poor Irishman and Chinaman out of the country that I can." " What has the Irishmen done, Josiah Allen ? " says I. " Oh I they are poor. There hain't no use in our asso- ciatin' with the poor." 118 SWEET CICELY. Says I dreamily, " Did I not read once, of One who re- nounced the throne of the universe to dwell amongst the poor ? " " Oh, wall ! most probable they wuzn't Irish." " And what has the Chinaman done ? " says I, " Why, they are heathens, Samantha. What does the United States want with heathens anyway? What the country 7ieeds is Methodists." " Somewhere did I not once hear these words," says I musin'ly, as I set the coffee-cups on the table, — "'You shall have the heathen for an inheritance' — and ' preach the gospel to the heathen ' — and 'we who were sometime heathens, but have received light ' ? Did not the echo of some such words once reach my mind ? " " Oh, wall ! if you are goin' to quote readin', why can't you quote from 'The World'? you can't combine Bible and politics worth a cent. And the Chinaman works too cheap — are too industrious, and reasonable in their charges, they hain't extravagant — and they are too dumb peacible, dumb 'em ! " "Josiah Allen!" says I firmly, "is that all the fault you find with 'em ? " " No, it hain't. They don't want to vote ! They don't care a cent about bein' path-master or President. And I say, that after givin' a man a fair trial and a long one, if he won't try to buy or sell a vote, it is a sure sign that he can't asimulate with Americans, and be one with 'em ; that he can't never be mingled in with 'em peacible. And I'll bet that I'll start the Catholics out — and the Jews. What under the sun is the use of havin' anybody here in America only jest Methodists? That is the only right SWEET CICELY. 119 way. And if I have my way, I'll get rid of 'em, — China- men, Irishmen, Catholics, — the hull caboodle of 'em. I'll jest light 'em out of the country. We can do it too. That big statute in New-York Harbor of Liberty Enlight- enin' the World, will jest lift her torch up high, and light 'em out of the country : — that is what we had her for." I sithed low, and says, " I never knew that wus what she wus there for. I s'posed it wus a gift from a land that helped us to liberty and prosperity when we needed 'em as bad as the Irishmen and Chinamen do to-day ; and I s'posed that torch that wus lit for us by others' help, we should be willin' and glad to have it shine on the dark cross-roads of others." "Wall, it hain't meant for no such purpose: it is to light up our land and our waters. That's what she's there for." • I sithed agin, a sort of a cold sithe, and says, — " I don't think it looks very well for us New-EnglanderF a sittin' round Plymouth Rock, to be a condemnin' anj- body for their religeous beliefs." "Wall, there hain't no need of whittlin' out a stick, and worshipin' it, as the Chinamen do." "How are you goin' to help 'em to worship the true God if you send 'em out of the country? Is it for the sake of humanity you drive 'em out '^ or be you, like the Isrealites of old, a worshipin' the golden calf of selfishness, Josiah Allen?" "I hain't never worshiped no calf, Samantha Allen. That would be the last thing / would worship, and you know it." (Josiah wus very lame on his left leg where he had M il I 120 SWEET CICELY. ,1 1 been kicked by a yearlin'. The spot wus black and blue, but healin'.) " You have blanketed that calf with thick patriotic excuses; but I fear, Josiah Allen, that the calf is there. *'0h!" says I dreamily, "how the tread of them calves has moved down through the centuries! If every calf should amble right out, marked with its own name and the name of its owner, what a sight, what a sight it would be ! On one calf, right after its owner's name, would be branded, ' Worldly Honor and Fame.' " Josiah squirmed, for I see him, but tried to turn the squirm in' into a sickly smile ; and he murmured in a meachin' voice, and with a sheepish smile, — '-' ' Hon. Josiah Allen. Fame.' That wouldn't look so bad on a likely yearlin' or two-year old." But I kep' right on. "On another would be marked, * Wealth.' Very yeller those calves would be, and a long, long drove of 'em. "On another would be, 'Earthly Love.' Middlin' good- lookin' calves, these, and sights of 'em. But the mantillys that covered 'em would be all wet and wore with tears. " ' Culture,' ' Intellect,' ' Refinement.' These calves would march right along by the side of ' Pride,' ' Vanity,' *01d Creeds,' 'Bigotry,' 'Selfishness.' The last-named would be too numerous to count with the naked eye, and go pushin' aginst each other, rushin' right through meetin'- housen, tearin' and actin'. Why," says I, "the ground trembles under the tread of them calves. I can hear 'em whinner," says I, fillin' up the coffee-pot. , " Calves don't whinner ! " says Josiah. Says I, " I speak parabolickly ; " and says I, in a very ■m SWEET CICELY. 121 blind way, "Parables are used to fit the truth to weak comprehensions." " Wall ! " says he, kinder cross, " your potatoes are a burnin' down." I turned the water off, and mashed 'em up, with plenty of cream and butter; and them, applied to his stomach internally, seemed to sooth him, — them, and the nicd THE GOLDEN CALVES OF CHRISTIANS. tender steak, and light biscuit, and lemon puddin' and coffee, rich and yellow and fragrant. He never said a word more about politics till after din- ner. But on risin' up from the table he told me he had got to go to Jonesville to get tha old mare shod. And I see sadly, as he stood to the Icokin '-glass combin' out his few hairs, how every by-path his mind sot out on led up gradually to Washington, D.C. For as he stood there, and spoke of the mare's feet, he says, — "The mare is good enough for Jonesville, Samantha. But when we get to Washington, we want sunthin' gayer, more stylish, to ride on. I calculate," says he, pullin* up i 122 8WEET CICELY. his collar, and pulliir down his vest, — "I lay out to dress gay, and act gay. 1 calculate to nuike a show for once in my life, and put on style. One thing I am bound on, — I shall drive tantrum." " How ? " says I sternly. . " Why, I shall buy another mare, most probable some gay-colored one, and hitch it he lore the old white mare, and drive tantrum. You know, it is all the style. Mcb- by," says he dreamily, "I shall ride the drag. I s'pose JU81AII DKIVINO TANTKUM. that is fashionable. But I'll be hanged if I should think it would be easy ridin' unless you had the teeth down. Dog-carts are stylish, I hear ; but our dog is so dumb lazy, you couldn't get him to go out of a walk. But tantrum I will drive." I groaned, and says, " Yes, I hain't no doubt that any- body that sees you at Washington, will see tantrums, strange tantrums. But you hain't there yet." " No, but I most probable shall be ere long." He had actually begun to talk in high-flown, blank verse sort of a way. "Ere long!" that wus somethin' new for Josiah Allen. SWEET CICELY. 123 ■ 1 ;i Alas! every thought of liis heart wus tuned to that one political key. I mentioned to him that "the bobbin to my sewin'-machine was broke, and asked liim to get a new one of the agent at Jonesville." " Yes," says he benignantly, " I will tend to your ma- chine ; and speakin' of machines, that makes me think of another thing uncle Nate and I wus talkin' about." " Machine politics, I sha'n't favor 'em. What under the sun do they want machines to make politics with, when there is plenty of men willin', and more than willin', to make 'em? And it is as expensive agin. Machines cost so much. I tell you, they cost tarnation high." " I can understcind you without swearin', Josiah Allen." " I hain't a swearin' : ' tarnation ' hain't swearin', nor never wuz. I shall use that word most likely in Wash- ington, D.C." " Wall," says I coldly, " there will have to be some tea and sugar got." He did not demur. But, oh ! how I see that immovible sotness of his mind ! " Yes, I will get some. But won't it be handy, Saman- tha, to have free trade ? I shall go for that strong. Why, I can tell you, it will come handy along in the winter when the hens don't lay, and we don't make butter to turn off — it will come dretful handy to jest hitch up the mare, and go to the store, and come home with a lot of groceries of all kinds, and some fresh meat mebby. And mebby some neckties of different colors." " Who would pay for 'em ? " says I in a stern tone ; for I didn't somehow like the idee. " Why, the Government, of course.*' '1' SBB I I il r 124 SWEET CICELY. I shook my head 2 or 3 times back and forth. I couldirt seem to get tlie riglit sense of it. " I can't un- derstiind it, Josiali. We heard a good deal about free trade, but I can't believe that is it," " Wall, it is, jest tliat. Free trade is one of the pre- re(iuisits of a senator. Why, what would a man want to be a senator for, if they couldn't make by it?" "Don't you love your country, Josiah Allen?" " Yes, I do : bu< I don't love her so well as I do myself; it hain't nateral I snould." " Surely I read long ago, — was it in the English Reader?" says 1 dreamily, "or where was it? But surely I have heard of such things as patriotism and honor, love of country, and love of the right.'* " Wall, I calculate I love my country jest as well as the next man; and," says he firndy, "I calculate I can make jest as much out of her, give me a chance. Why, I cal- culate to do jest as they all do. What is the ''se of startin' up, and bein' one by yourself?" Says I, "That is what Pilate tlumght, Josiah Allen." Says I, " The majority hain't always right." Says I firmly, " They hardly ever are." " Now, that is a regular woman's idee," says he, goin' into the bedroom for a clean shirt. And as he opened the bureau-draw, he says, — " Another thing I shall go for, is abolishin' lots of the l)ureaus. Why, what is the use of any man havin' more than one bureau? It is nothin' but nonsense clutterin' up the house with so many bureaus. "When wimmen get to votin'," says he sarcastickly, " I'll bet their first move will be to get 'em back agin. I'll SWEET CICELY. 125 bet tliere hain't a women in the land, hut what would love to have 20 bureaus that they eould run to." '''J'hen, you think winunen will voie, do you, Josiah Allen?" " I think," says he firmly, " that it will be a wretched (lay for the nation if slu; does. Winunen is ^ood in their j)hices," says he, as he come to nie to button up his shirt- sleeves, and tie his cravat. " They are good in their j)laces. But they can't have, it hain't in 'em to have, the calm grasp of mind, the deep outlook into the future, that men have. They can't weigh things in the firm, careful balences of right and wrong, and have that deep, masterly knowledge of national affairs that we men have. They hain't got the hard horse sense that anybody has got to have in order to make money out of the nation. They would have some senti- mental subjects up of right or wrong to spend their energies and their hearts on. Look at (Icely, now. She means well. Hut what would she do? What would she make out of votin'? Not a cent. And she never would think of passin' laws for her own j)ersonal comfort, either. Now, there is the subsidy bill. I'll see that through if I sweat for it. " Why, it would be worth more than a dollar-bill to me lots of times to make folks subside. Preachers, now, when they get to goin' beyond the 20ethly. No preacher has any right to go to wanderin' round up beyond them figures in dog-days. And if they could be made to subside when they had gone fur enough, why, it would be a perfect boon to J "And onesville and the nation sewin'- machine agen ts — a!id — and wnumen, "i I 126 SWEET CICELY. i I I- when they get all excited a scoldin', or talkin' about bonnets, and things. Why ! if a man could jest lift up his hand, and say ' Subside ! ' and then see 'em subside — why, I had ruther see it than a circus any day." ' A woman's place. I looked at him keenly, and says I, — " I wish such a bill had even now passed ; that is, if wimmen could receive any benefit from it." SWEET CICELY. 127 "Wall, you'll see it after I get to Washington, D.C., most probable. I calculate to jest straighten out things there, and get public affairs in a good runnin' order. The nation needs me." " Wall," says I, wore out, " it can have you, as fur .as I am concerned." And I wus so completely fagged out, that I turned the subject completely round (as I s'posed) by askin' him il he laid out to sell our apples this year where he did last. The man's wife had wrote to me ahead, and wanted to know, for they had bought a new dryin'-machme, and wanted to make sure of apples ahead. " Wall," says Josiah, drawin' on his overshoes, " I shall probable have to use the apples this fall to buy votes with." " To buy votes ? " says I, in accents of borrow. " Yes. I wouldn't tell it out of the family. But you are all in the family, you know, and so I'll tell you. I sha'n't have to buy near so many votes on account of my plan ; but I shall have to buy some, of course. You know, they all do ; and I sha'n't stand no chance at all if I don't." My groans was fearful that T groaned at this ; but truly, worse was to come. He looked kinder pitiful at me (he loves me). But yet his love did not soften the firm re- solve that wus spread thick over his linement as he went on, — " I lay out to get lots of votes with my green apples," says he dreamily. " It seems as if I ought to get a vote for a bushel of apples ; but there is so much iniquity and cheatin' a goin' on now in politics, that I may have to give I ! I'M I'i ■ I 128 SWEET CICELY. a biisliel and a half, or two bushels: and then, I shall make up a lot of the smaller ones into hard cider, and use 'em to — to advance the interests of myself and the nation in that way. " There is hull loads of 'folks uncle Nate says he can bring to vote for me, by the judicious use of — wall, it hain't likely you will approve of it ; but I say, stimulants OUK LAW-MAKEBS. are necessary in medicine, and any doctor will tell you so — hard cider and beer and whiskey, and so 4th." I riz right up, and grasped holt of his arm, and says in stern, avengin' tones, — "Josiah Allen, will you go right against God's com- mands, and put the cup to your neighbor's lips, for your own gain? Do you expect, if you do, that you can es- cape Heaven's avengin' wrath ? " "They hain't my neighbors: I never neighbored with em. »> SWEET CICELY. 129 Says I sternly, "If you commit this sin, yon will be held accountable ; and it seems to me as if you can never be forgiven." "Dumb it all, Samantha, if everybody else does so, where will I get my votes?" " Go without 'em, Josiah Allen ; go down to poverty, or the tomb, but never commit this sin. 'Cursed is he that putteth the cup to his neighbor's lips.' " "They hain't my ne'^hbors, and it probable hain't no cup that they will drink out of: they will drink out of gobblers " (sometimes when Josiah gets excited, he calls goblets, gobblers). But I wus too wrought up and by the side of myself to notice it. Says I, "To think a human bein', to say nothin' of a perfessor, would go to work deliberate to get a man into a state that is jest as likely as not to end in a murder, or any crime, for gain to himself." Says I, "Think of tlie different crimes you commit by that one act, Josiah Allen. You make a man a fool, and in that way put yourself down on a level with disease, deformity, and hereditary sin. You steal his reason away. You are a thief of the deepest dye ; for you steal then, from the man you have stole from — steal the first rights of his manhood, his honor, his patriotism, his duty to God and man. You are a thief of the Government — thief of God, and right. " Then, you make this man liable to commit any crime : so, if he murders, you are a murderer ; if he commits suicide, your guilty soul shall cower in the presence of Him who said, ' No self-murderer shall inherit eternal life.' It is your own doom you shall read in them dread- ful words." !! . !(H if m I: I I 1 130 -sir^^r CICELY. " Good landy, Samantha ! do you want to scare me to death ? " and Josiah quailed and shook, and shook and quailed. " I am only tellin' you the truth, Josiah Allen ; and I should think it would scare anybody to death." " If I don't do it, I shall appear like a fool : I shall be one by myself." Oh, how Josiah duz want to be fashionable ! " No, you won't, Josiah Allen — no, you won't. If you try to do right, try to do God's will, you have His armies to surround you with a unseen wall of strength." " Why, I hain't seen you look so sort o' skairful and riz up, for years, Samantha." "I hain't felt so. To think of the brink you wuz a standin' on, and jest a fallin' off of." Josiah looked quite bad. And he put his hand on his side, and says, " My heart beats as if it wuz a tryin' to get out and walk round the room. I do believe I have got population of the heart." Says I, in a sarcasticker tone than I had used, — " That is a disease that is very common amongst men, very common, though they hain't over and above willin' to own up to it. Too much population of the heart has ailed many a man before now, and woman too," says I in reasonable axents. " But you mean palpitation." "Wall, I said so, didn't I? And it is jest your skairful talk that has done it." "Wall, if I thought I could convince men as I have you, I would foller the business stiddy, of skairin' folks, and think I wuz doin' my duty." Says I, my emotions a roustin' up agin, — \ \ SV/EET CICELY. 131 *' I should call it a good deal more honorable in you to get drunk yourself, and I should think more of you, if I see you a reelin' I'ound yourself, than to see you make other folks reel. I should think it was your own reel, and you had more right to it than to anybody else's. " Oh ! to think I should have lived to see the hour, to have my companion in danger of goin' aginst the Scripter — ready to steal, or be stole, or knock down, or any thing, to buy votes, or sell 'em ! " " Wall, dumb it all, do you want me to appear as awk- ward as a fool? I have told you more than a dozen times I have got to do as the rest do, if I want to make any show at all in politics." I said no more : but I riz right up, and walked out of the room, with my head right up in the air, and the strings of my head-dress a floatin' out behind me ; and I'll bet there wus indignation in the float of them strings, and heart-ache, and agony, and — and every thing. I thought I had convinced him, and hadn't. I felt is if I must sink. You know, that is all a woman can do — to sink. She can't do any thing else in a helpful way when her beloved companion hangs over political abysses. She can't reach out her lovin' hand, and help stiddy him : she can't do nothin' only jest sink. And what made it more curious, these despairin' thoughts come to me as I stood by the ainJc, washin' my dinner-dishes. But anon (I know it wus jest anon, for the water wus bilein' hot when I turned it out of the kettle, and it scalded my hands, onbeknown to me, as I washed out my sass-plates) this thought gripped holt of me, right in front of the sink, — , • . r I ! 132 SWEET CICELY "Josiah Allen's wife, you must not sink. You must keep up. If you have no power to help your pardner to patriotism and honor, you can, if your worst fears are real- ized, try to keep him to home. For if his acts and words are like these in Jonesville, what will they be in Wash- ington, D.C. if that place is all it has been depictered to you ? Hold up, Samantha ! Be firm, Josiah Allen's wife I John Rogers I The nine ! One at the breast I " So at last, by these almost convulsive efforts at calmness, I grew more calmer and composeder. Josiah had hitched up and gone. And he come home clever, and all excited with a new thing. They are buildin' a new court-house at Jonesville. It is most done, and it seemed they got into a dispute that day about the cupelow. They wanted to have the figger of Liberty sculped out on it ; and they had got the man there all ready, and he had legun to sculp her as a wo- man, — the goddess of Libert3% he called her. But at the last minute a dispute had rosen : some of the leadin' minds of Jonesville, uncle Nate Gowdey amongst 'em, insisted on it that Liberty wuzn't a woman, he wuz a man. And they wanted liira depictered as a man, with whiskers and pantaloons and a standin' collar, and boots and spurs — Josiah Allen wus the one that wanted the spurs. He said the dispute waxed furious ; and he says to 'em, — "Leave it to Samantha: she'll know all about it." And so it was agreed on that they'd leave it to me. And he drove the old mare home, almost beyond her strength, he vnis so anxious to have it settled. SWEET CICELY. 133 I wus jest makin' some cream biscuit for supper as he come in, and asked me about it ; and a minute is a minute in makin' warm biscuit. You want to make 'em quick, and bake 'em quick. My mind wus fairly held onto that dough — and needed on it; but instinctively I told hhn he wus in the right ont. Liberty here in the United States wuz a man, and, in order to be conf»istent, ort to be depictered with whiskers and overcoat and a standin' collar. " And spurs I " says Josiah. "Wall," I told him, "I wouldn't be particular about the spurs." I said, "Instead of the spurs on his boots, he might be depictered as settin' his boot-heel onto the respectful petition of fifty thousand wimmen, who had ventured to ask him for a little mite of what he wus s'posed to have quantities of — Freedom. " Or," says I, " he might be depictered as settin' on a judgment-seat, and wavin' off into prison an intelligent Christian woman, who had spent her whole noble, useful life in studyiu' tiie laws of our nation, for darin' to think she had as much right under our Constitution, as a low, totally ignorant coot who would most likely think the franchise wus some sort of a meat-stew." Says I, " That will give Liberty jest as imperious and showy a look as spurs would, and be fur more historick and symbolical." Wall, he said he would mention it to 'em ; and says he, with a contented look, — " I told uncle Nate I knew I wus right. I knew Liberty wus a man." Wall, I didn't say no more : and I got him as good a if I I £ I I 5 • 184 SWEET CICELY. supper as the house afforded, and kep' still as death on politics ; fur I could not help havin' some hopes that he might get sick of the idee of public life. And I kep' him down close all that evenin' to re- ligion and the weather. But, alas ! my hopes wus doomed to fade away. And, as days passed by, I see the thought of bein' a senator wus ever before him. The cares and burdens of political life seemed to be a loomin' up in front of him, and in a quiet way he seemed to be fittin' himself for the duties of his position. He come in one day with Solo- mon Cyphers'ses shovel, and I asked him " what it wuz ? " And he said " it wus the spoils of office." And I says, "It is no such thing: it is Solomon Cypher'ses shovel." "Wall," says he, "I found it out by the fence. Solomon has gone over to the other party. I am a Democrat, and this is party spoils. I am goin' to keep this as one of the spoils of office." Says I firmly, " You won't keep it ! " " Why," says he, " if I am goin' to enter political life, I must begin to practise sometime. I must begin to do as JONESVILLG COURT- HOUSE. ^i ■ ( ■ t SWEET CICELY. 135 they all do. And it is a crackin' good shovel too," says he pensively. Says r, "You are goin' to carry that shovel right straight home, Josiah Allen ! " And I made him. The idee. But I see in this and in many kindred things, that he wuz a dwellin' on this thought of political life — its hon- ors and emollients. And often, and in dark hints, he would speak of his Plan. If every other means failed, if he couldn't spare the money to buy enough votes, how his plan wus goin' to be the makin' of him. And I overheard him tellin' the babe once, as he wus rockin' her to sleep in the kitchen, " how her grandpa had got up somethin' that no other babe's grandpa had ever thought of, and how she would probable see him in the White House ere long." I wus makin' nut-cakes in the buttery ; and I shuddered so at these words, that I got in most as much agin lemon as I wanted in 'em. I wus a droppin' it into a spoon, and it run over, I wus that shook at the thought of his plan. I had known his plans in the past, and had hefted 'em. And I truly felt that his plans wus liable any time to be the death of him, and the ruination. But he wouldn't tell ! But kep' his mind immovibly sot, as I could see. And the very day of the shovel episode, along towards night he rousted out of a brown study, — a sort of a dark-brown study, — and says he, — " Yes, I shall make out enough votes if we have a judi- cious committee." 136 SWEET CICELY. " A lyin' one, do you mean ? " says I coldly. But not 8uri)rized. For truly, niy mind had been so strained and racked that I don't know as it would have surprized me if Josiah Allen had riz up, and knocked me down. "Wall, in politics, you have to add a few orts some- times." I sitlied, not a wonderin' sithe, but a despairin' one ; and he went on, — " I know where I shall get a hull lot of votes, anyway." " Where ? " says I. " Why, out to that nigger settlement jest the other side of Jonesville." " How do you know they'll vote for you ? " says I. " I'd like to see 'em vote aginst me ! " says he, in a skairful way. "Would you use intimidation, Josiah Allen?" " Why, uncle Nate Gowdey and I, and a few others who love quiet, and love to see folks do as they ort to, lay out to take some shot-guns and make them niggers vote right ; make 'em vote for me ; shoot 'em right down if they don't. We have got the campaign all planned out." " Josiah Allen," says I, " if you have no fear of Heaven, have you no fear of the Government? Do you want to be hung, and see your widow a breakin' her heart over your gallowses ? " "Oh! I shouldn't get hung. The Government wouldn't do nothin'. The Government feels jest as I do, — that it would be wrong to stir up old bitternesses, and race dif- ferences. The bloody shirt has been washed, and ironed out ; and it wouldn't be right to dirty it up agin. The colored race is now at peace ; and if they will only do I I SWEET CICELY. 137 right, do jest as the white men wants 'em to, Government won't never interfere with em." I groaned, and couldn't help it; and he says, — " Wiiy, hang it all, Samantha, if I make any show at all in public life, I have got to begin to practise sometime." " Wall," says I, "bring me in a pail of water." But as he v^ent oat after it, I murmured steridy to myself, — " Oh ! wus there ever a forerunner more needed to run ? " and my soul answered, " Never ! never I " MAKING THEM DO RIGHT. So with sithes that could hardly be sithed, so big and hefty wuz they, I commenced to make preparations for embarkin' on my tower. And no martyr that ever sot down on a hot gridiron wus animated by a more warm and martyrous feelin' of self-sacrifice. Yes, I truly felt, that if there wus dangers to be faced, and daggers run through pardners, I felt I would ruther they would pierce my own spare-ribs than Josiah's. (I say spare-ribs for oritory — my ribs are not spare, fur from it.) I didn't really believe, if he run, he would run clear to Washington. And yet, when my mind roamed on some f ' 138 SWEET CICELY. 1: public men, and how fur they run, I would groan, and hurry up my preparations. I knew my tower must be but a short one, for sugarin'- time wus apprcachin' with rapid strides, and Samantha must be at the helium. But I also knew, that with a determined mind, and a willin' heart, great things could be accomplished speedily ; so I commenced makin' prepa- rations", and lay in' on i)lans. As become a woman of my cast-iron princijjles, I fixed up mostly on the inside of my head instead of the outside. I studied the map of the United States. I done several sums on the slate, to harden my mind, and help me grasp great facts, and meet difficulties bravely. I read Gass'es " Journal," — how he rode up our great rivers on a peri- oger, and shot bears. Expectin', as I did, to see trouble, I read over agin that book that has been my stay in so many hard-fit battle-fields of principle, — Fox'es " Book of Martyrs." I studied G. Washington's picture on the pi. ior-wall, to- get kinder stirred up in my mind about him, so's to realize to the full my privileges as I wept onto his tomb, and stood in the capital he had foundered. Thomas J. come one day v/hile I wus musin' on George ; and he says, — " What are you lookin' so close at that dear old hum- bug for?" Says I firmly, and keepin' the same posture, "I am studyin' the face of the revered and noble G. Washington. I am going shortly to weep on his tomb and the capital he foundered. I am studyin' his face, and Gass'es ' Jour- nal,* and other works," says I. i' SWEET CICELY. 139 " If you are going to the capital, you had better study Dante." Says I, "Danty who?" And he says, " Just plain Dante." Says he, " You had better study his inscription on the door oi the infern " — Says I, "Cease instantly. You are on the very pint of swearin' ; " and I don't know now what he meant, and don't much care. Thomas J. is full of r|^ueer remarks, anyway. But deep. He had a sick spell a few weeks ago ; and I went to see him the first thing in the mornin', after I heard of it. He had overworked, the doctor said, and his heart wuz a little weak. He looked real white ; and I took holt of his hand, and says I, — " Thomas J., I am worried about you : your pulse don't beat hardly any." " No," says he. And he laughed with his eyes and his lips too. " I am glad I am not a newspaper this morning, mother." And I says, "Why?" And he says, "If I were a morning paper, mother, I shouldn't be a success, my circulation is so weak." A jokin' right there, when he couldn't lift his head, But he got over it : he always did have them sort of sick spells, from a little child. But a manlier, good-hearteder, level-headeder boy never lived than Thomas Jeiferson Allen. He is just right, and always wuz. And though I wouldn't have it get out for the world, I can't help seein' it, that he goes fur ahead of Tirzah Ann in intellect, and nobleness of nater; and though I love 'em both devotedly, I do, and I can't help it, like him jest a little mite the best. But this I wouldn't 140 SWEET CICELY. have get out for a thousand dollars. I tell it in strict copfidence, and s'pose it will be kep' as such. Mebby I hadn't ort to tell it at all. Mebby it hain't quite orthodox in me to feel so. Hut it is truthful, anyway. And some- times I get to kinder wobblin' round inside of my mind, and a wonderin' wiiich is the best, — to be orthodox, or truthful, — an DOKLESKY'S TKIALS. gaulin' to a woman than that wuz, — while she lay there, groanin* in splints, to have her husband take the money for her own broken bones, and dress up another woman like a doll with it. But the law gin it to him; and he was only availin' himself of the glorious liberty of our free republic, and doin' as he was a mind to. And it was s'posed that that very hip-money was what .1 i' J ~* 11 f IP 1 III ; i 154 SWEET CICELY. made the match. For, before she wus faiily out of splints, he got a divorce from lier. And by the help of that money, and the Wliisky King, he got her two little chil- dren away from her. And I wonder if there is a mother in the land, that can blame Dorlesky for gettin' mad, and wantiu' her rights, and wantin' tlie Whisky King broke up, when they think it over, — how slie has beea fooled round witli by men, willed away, and wliipped and parted witli and stole from. Why, they can't blame her for feelin' fairly savage about 'em — and she duz. For as she says to me once when we wus a talkin' it over, how every thing had happened to her that could happen to a woman, and how curious it wuz, — " Yes," says she, with a axent like boneset and vinegar, — " and what few things tliere are that hain't happened to me, has happened to my folks." And, sure enough. I couldn't dispute her. Trouble and wrongs and sufferin's seemed to be epidemic in the race of Burpy wimn^en. Why, one of her aunts on her father's side, Patty Burpy, married for her first husband Eliphalet Perkins. He was a minister, rode on a circuit. And he took Patty on it too ; and she rode round with him on it, a good deal of the time. But she never loved to : she wus a woman who loved to be still, and be kinder settled down at home. But she loved Eliphalet so well, she would do any thing to please him : so she rode round with him on that circuit, till she was perfectly fagged out. He was a dretf ui good man to her ; but he wus kinder poor, and they had hard times to get along. But whf.t l t I SWEET CICELY. 155 property they had wuzn't taxed, so that helped some ; and Patty would make one doller go a good ways. No, their property wasn't taxed till Eliphalet died. Then the supervisor taxed it the very minute the breath left his body ; run his horse, so it was said, so's to be sure to get it onto the tax-list, and comply with the law. You see, Eliphalet's salary stopped when his breath did. And I s'pose mebby the law thought, seein' she was a bav- in' trouble, she might jest as well have a little more ; so it taxed all the property it never had taxed a cent for before. But she had this to console her anyway, — that the law didn't forget her in her widowhood. No : the law is quite thoughtful of wimmen, by spells. It says, the law duz, that it protects wimmen. And I s'pose in some myste- rious way, too deep for wimmen to understand, it was pro- tectin' her now. Wall, she suffered along, and finally married agin. I wondered why she did. But she was such a quiet, home- lovin' woman, that it was s'posed she wanted to settle down, and be kinder still and sot. But of all the bad luck she had! She married on short acquaintance, and he proved to be a perfect wanderer. Why, he couldn't keep still. Tt was s'posed to be a mark. He moved Patty thirteen times in two yearf>; and at last he took her into a cart, — a sort of a covered wagon, — and travelled right through the Eastern States with her. He wanted to see the country, and loved to live in the wagon : it was his make. And, of course, the law give him the control of her body ; and she had to go where he moved it, or else part with him. And I Hh m\ m i' iJii I 156 SWEET CICELY. s'pose the law thought it was guardin' and nourishin' her when it was a joltin' her over tliem praries and mountains and abysses. But it jest kep' her shook up the hull of the time. It wus the regular Burpy luck. And then, another one of her aunts, Drusilla Burpy, she married a industrius, hard-workin' man, — one that never PATTY AND HUSBAND TRAVELLING IN THE FAB WEST. drinked a drop, and was sound on the doctrines, and give good measure to his customers : he was a grocer-man. And a master hand for wantin' to foller the laws of his country, as tight as laws could be follered. And so, knowin' that the law approved of " moderate correction " for wimmen, and that " a man might whip his wife, but not enough to endanger her life," he bein' such a master hand for wantin' to do every thing faithful, and do his very best for his customers, it was s'posed that he wanted SWEET CICELY. 157 to do his best for the law ; and so, when he got to whip- pin' Drusilla, he would whip her too severe — he would be too faithful to it. You see, the way ont was, what made him whip her at all wuz, she was cross to him. They had nine little chil- dren. She always thought that two or three children would be about all one woman could bring up well " by hand," when that one hand wuz so awful full of work, as will be told more ensuin'ly. But he felt that big families wuz a protection to the Government; and "he wijutod fourteen boys," he said, so they could all foller their father's footsteps, and be noble, law-making, lavv-abidhig citizens, jest as he was. But she had to do every mite ji the housework, and milk cows, and make butter and cheese, and cook rud wash and scour, and take all the care of the children, day and night, in sickness and iu health, and spin and weave the cloth for their clothes (as wimmen did in them days), and then make 'em, and keep 'em clean. And when there wuz so many of 'em, and only about a year's difference in their ages, some of 'em — why, I s'pose she sometimes thought more of her own achin' back than she did of tlie good of the Government ; and she would get kinder dis- couraged sometimes, and be cross to him. And knowin' his own motives was so high and loyal, he felt that he ought to whip her. So he did. And what shows that Drusilla wuzn't so bad as he s'posed she wuz, wliat shows that she did have her good streaks, and a deep reverence for the law, is, that slie stood his whippin's first-rf.te, and never whipped him. Now, she wuz fur bigger than he wuz, weighed 80 liiiii ii 158 SWEET CICELY. pounds the most, and might have whipped him if the law had been such. But they was both haw-abidin', and wanted to keep BEATING HIS WIFE. every preamble ; so she stood it to be whipped, and never once whipped him in all the seventeen years they lived together. \\\ SWEET CICELY. 159 She died when her twelfth child was born : there wus jest 13 months difference in the age of that and the one next older. And they said she often spoke out in her last sickness, and said, — " Thank fortune, I have always kept the law." And they said the same thought wus a great comfort to him in his last moments. He died about a year after she did, leaving his 2nd wife with twins and a good property. Then, there was Abagail Burpy. She married a sort of a high-headed man, though one that paid his debts, and was truthful, and considerable good-lookin', and played well on the fiddle. Why, it seemed as if he had almost every qualification for makin' a woman happy, only he had jest this one little excentricity, — that man would lock up Abagail Burpy's clothes every time he gtt mad at her. Of course the law give her clothes to him ; and knowin' it was one of the laws of the United States, she wouldn't have complained only when she had company. But it was mortifyin', and nobody could dispute it, to have com- pany come, and nothin' to put on. Several times she had to withdraw into the wood-house, and stay most of the day, shiverin', and under the cellar- stairs, and round in clothes-presses. But he boasted in prayer-meetin's, and on boxes before grocery-stores, that he wus a law-abidin' citizen ; and he wuz. Eben Flanders wouldn't lie for anybody. But I'll bet that Abagail Flanders beat our old Revolu- tionary 4 mothers in thinkin' out new laws, when she lay round under stairs, and behind barrells, in her night- dress. 160 SWEET CICELY. You see, when a man hides his wive's corset and petti- coat, it is governin' without the "consent of the governed." And if you don't believe it, you ort to have peeked round them barrells, and seen Abagail's eyes. Why, they had hull leams of by-laws in 'em, and preambles, and " declara- tions of independence." So I have been told. Why, it beat every thing I ever heard on, the lawful sufferin's of them wimmen. For there wuzn't nothin' illegal about one single trouble of theirn. They suffered accordin' to law, every one of 'em. But it wus tuff for 'em — very tuff. And their all bein' so dretful humbly wuz and is another drawback to 'em ; though that, too, is perfectly lawful, as everybody knows. And Dorlesky looks as bad agin as she would other- ways, on account of her teeth. It wus after Lank had begun to kinder get after this other woman, and wus indifferent to his wive's looks, that Dorlesky had a new i\et of teeth on her upper jaw. And they sort o' sot out, and made her look so bad that it fairly made her ache to look at herself in the glass. And they hurt her gooms too. And she carried 'em back to the den- tist, and wanted him to make her another set. But the dentist acted mean, and wouldn't take 'em back, and sued Lank for the pay. And they had a law- suit. And the law bein' such that a woman can't testify in court in any matter that is of mutual interest to hus- band and wife — and Lank wantin' to act mean, too, testified that " they wus good sound teeth." And there Dorlesky sot right in front of 'em with her gooms achin', and her face all pokin' out, and lookin' like <\i\ n- ri; SWEET CICELY. 101 i i :. furyation, and couldn't say a word. But she had to givo in to tlie law. And ruther than go toothless, she wears 'em to this day. \ And I do believe it is the raspin' of them teetli aginst ' her gooms, and her dissoouraged and mad feelin's every time she looks in a glass, that helps to embitter her towards men, and the laws men have made, so's a wo- man can't have the control over her own teeth and her own bones. Wall, Dorlesky went home about 4 p.m., I a promisia' at the last minute as sacred as I couid, without usin' a book, to do her errents for her. I urged her to stay to supper, but she couldn't ; for she said the man where she worked was usin' his horses, and couldn't come after her agin. And she said that — "Mercy on her! how could anybody eat any more supper after such a dinner as I had got?" And it wuzn't nothin' extra, I didn't think. No better than my common run of dinners. Wall, she hadn't been gone over an hour (she a holler- in' from the wagon, a chargin' on me solemn, about the errents, — the man she works for is deef, deef as a post, — and I a noddin' to her firm, honorable nods, that I would do 'em), and I wus a slickin' up the settin'-room, and Martha, who had jest come in, wus measurin' off my skirt- breadths, when Josiah Allen drove up, and Cicely and the boy with him. And there I had been a layin' out to write to her that very night to tell her I wus goin' away, and to be sure and come jest as quick as I got back ! Wall, I never see the time I wuzn't glad to see Cicely, 162 SWEET CICELY. and I felt that she could visit to Tirzali Ann's and Thomas J.'s while I wus gone. She looked dretful pale and sad, I thought ; but she seemed glad to see me, and glad to get back. And the boy asked Josiah and Ury and me 47 questions between the wagon and the front doorstep, for I counted 'em. He wus well. I broached the subject of my tower to Cicely when she and I wus all alone in her room. And, if you'll be- lieve it, she all rousted up with the idee of wantin' to go too. She says, " You know, aunt Samantha, just how I have prayed and labored for my boy's future ; how I have made all the efforts that it is possible for a woman to make ; how I have thrown my heart and life into the work, — but I have done no good. That letter," says she, takin' one out of her pocket, and throwin' it into my lap, — " that letter tells me just what I knew so well before, — just how weak a woman is ; that they have no power, only the power to suffer." It wus from that old executor, refusin' to comply with some request she had made about her own property, — a request of right and truth. Oh, how glad I would have been to had him execkuted that very minute ! Why, I'd done it myself if winimen could execkit — but they can't. Says she, " I'll go with you to Washington, — I and the boy. Perhaps I can do something for him there." But when she mentioned the boy, I demurred in my own mind, and kep' a demurrin'. Thinks'es I, how can I stand it, as tired as I expect to be, to have him a askin' questions all II SWEET CICELY. 163 the liull time ? She see I was a demurrin' ; and her pretty face grew sadder than it had, and overcasteder. And as I see that, I gin in at once, and says with a cheerful face, but a forebodin' mind, — "Wall, Cicely, we three will embark together on our tower." Wall, after supper Cicely and I sot down under the front stoop, — it was a warm evenin', — and we talked some about other wimmen. Not runnin' talk, or gossipin' talk, but jest plain talk, about her aunt Mary, and her aunt Melissa, and her aunt Mary's daughter, who wus a runnin' down, runnin' faster than ever, so I judged from what she said. And how Susan Ann Grimshaw that was, had a young babe. She said her aunt Mary was better now, so she had started for the Michigan; but she had had a dretful sick spell while she was there. Wliile she wuz a tellin' me this, Cicely sot on one of the steps of the stoop : I sot up under it in my rockin'-chair. And she looked dretful good to me. She had on a white dress. She most always wears white in the house, when we hain't got company ; and always wears black when she is dressed up, and when she goes out. This dress was made of white mull. The yoke wus made all of thin embroidery, and her white neck and shoulders shone through it like snow. Her sleeves was all trimmed with lace, and fell back from her pretty white arms. Her hands wus clasped over her knees ; and her hair, which the boy had got loose a playin' with her, wus fallin' round her face and neck. And her great, earnest eyes wus lookin' into the West, and the light from the sunset fallin' through the mornin'-glorys wus a fallin' over 4 : ■' • 164 SWEET CICELY. her, till I declare, I never see any tiling look so pretty in my hull life. And there was somethin' more, fur more than prettiness in her face, in her big eyes. It wuzn't unhappiness, and it wuzn't hap})iness, and I don't know as I can tell what it wuz. It seemed as if she wuz a lookin' fur, fur away, further than Jonesville, fur- ther than the lake tliat lay beyend Jonesville, and which was pure gold now, — a sea of glass mingled with fire, — further than the cloudy masses in the western heavens, which looked like a city of shinin' mansions, fur off; but her eyes was lookin' away off, beyend them. And I kep' still, and didn't feel like talkin' about other wimmen. Finally she spoke out. " Aunt Samantha, what do you suppose I thought when dear aunt Mary was so ill when I was there ? " And I saj'^s, "I don't know, dear: what did you?" " Well, I thought, that, though I loved her so dearly, I almost wished she would die while I was there." " Why, Cicely ! " says I. " Why-ee ! what did you wish that for? and thinkin' so much of your aunt as you do." "Well, ycu know how mother and aunt Mary loved each other, how near they were to each other. Why, mother could always tell when aunt Mary was ill or in trouble, and she was just the same in regard to mother. And I can't think that when death has freed the soul from the flesh, that they will have less spiritual knowledge of each other than when they were here ; and I felt, that with such a love as theirs, death would only make their souls nearer : and you know what the Bible says, — that ' God shall make of his angels ministering spirits ; ' and I i ' ■ • ! • "til=: Hi I 1^ I ir i 'ijij^ {■ ill r' P >■ 1 ■j 'J 1 ( 1 1 166 SWEET CICELY. know He would send no other angel but my mother, to dear aunt Mary's bedside, to take lier si)irit home. And I thought, that, if I were there, my motlier Avould be tliere riglit in the room with me ; and I didn't know but I might feel her presence if I could not see lier. And I do want my mother so sometimes, aunt Samantha," says she with the tears comiii' into tliem soft brown eyes. " It seems as i^' she would tell me what to do for the boy — she always knew what was right and best to do." Says I to myself, " For the land's sake, what won't Cicely think on next?" But I didn't say a word, mind you, not a single word would I say to hurt that child's feelin's — not for a silver doll r, I wouldn't. I only says, in calm accents, — "Don't for mercy's sake, child, talk of seein' your mother now." She looked far off into the shinin' western heavens with that deep, searchin', but soft gaze, — seemin' to look clear through th'^m cloudy mansions of rose and pearl, — and says she, — " If I were good enough, I think I could." And I says, "Cicely, you are goin' to take cold, with nothin' round your shoulders." Says I, " The weather is very ketchi^i', and it looks to me as if we wus goin' to have quite a spell of it." And the boy overheard me, and asked me 75 questions about ketchin' the weather. " If the weather set a trap ? If it ketched with bait, or with a hook, and what it ketched? and how? and who?" Oh my stars ! what a time I did have ! The next raorr.in' after this Cicely wuzn't well enough SWEET CICELY. 167 to get up. I carried up her breakfast with my own hands, — a good one, though I am fur from bein' the one tliat ort to say it. And after breakfast, along in the forenoon, Martha, who was makin' my dress, felt troubled in mind as to whether slie had better cut the polem.y kitrin' ways of the cloth, or not : and Miss Gowdey had jest had one made in the height of the fashion, to Jonesville ; and so to ease Martha's mind (she is one that gets deprested easy, when weighty subjects are pressin' her down), I said I would run over cross-lots, and carry home a drawin' of tea I had borrowed, and look at the polenaj'", and bring back tidin's from it. And I wus goin' there acrost the orchard, when I see the boy a layin' on his back under a apple-tree, lookin' up into the sky ; and says I, — " What be you doin' here, Paul ? " He never got up, nor moved a mite. That is one of the peculiarities of the boy, you can't surprise him : nothin' seems to startle him. He lay still, and spoke out for all the world as if I had been there with him all day. " I am lookin' to see if I can see it. I thought I got a glimpse of it a minute ago, but it wus only a white cloud." " Lookin' for what ? " says I. " The gate of that City that comes down out of the heavens. You know, uncle Josiah read about it tliis morning, out of that big book he prays out of after break- fast. He said the gate was one pearl. " And I asked mamma what a pearl was, and she said it was just like that ring she wears that papa gave her. And ill ■:KM :i;i H i' ■ III I'ii mm ll 1, ■ ■ i. ■i \\ E'ST 1 ! 1"^ 168 SWEE'l CICELY. I asked her where the City was, and she said it was up in the heavens. And I asked her if I should ever see it ; and she said, if I was good, it woukl swing down out of the ■;*?.■■. /;-(. LOOKING FOB THE CITY. sky, sometime, and that shining gate would open, and I should walk through it into the City. " And I went right to being good, that minute ; and I ■iiiTriW-ri -inlilgiti SWEET CICELY. 169 have been good for as many as three hours, I should think. And s«z/, liow long have you got to be good before you can go through ? And ««?/, can you see it before you go through ? A nd SAY " — But I had got most out of hearin' then. " And sa^/ " — I heard his last " say " just as I got out of hearin' of him. lie acted kinder disappointed at dinner-time, and said " he wus tired of watchin', and tired out of bein' good ; " and he wus considerable cross all that afternoon. But lie got clever agin before bedtime. And he come and leaned up aginst my lap at sundown, and asked me, I guess, about 200 questions about the City. And his eyes looked big and dreamy and soft, and his cheeks looked rosy, and his mouth awful good and sweet. And his curls wus kinder moist, and hung down over his white forehead. I did love him, and couldn't help it, chin or no chin. He had been still for quite a spell, a thinkin' ; and at last he broke out, — "Say, auntie, shall I see my father there in the City?" And I didn't know what to tell him ; for you know what it says, — " Without are murderers." But then, agin, I thought, what w*U become of the respectable church members who sell the fire that flames up in a man's soul, and ruins his life ? What will become of them who lend their votes and their influence to make it right? They vote on Saturdays, to make the sale of this poison legal, and on Sundays go to church with their )'■>■ 170 SWEET CICELY. respectable families. And they expect to go right to heaven, of course ; for they have improved all the means ASKING ABOUT THE CITY. of grace. Hired costly pews, and give big charities — in money obtained by sellin' robberies, murders, broken hearts, ruined lives. ;i i SWEET CICELY. 171 But the boy wanted an answer; and his eyes looked questionin', but soft. " Say, auntie, do you think we'll find him there, mamma and I ? You know, that is what mamma cries so for, — she wants him so bad. And do you think he will stand just inside the gate, waiting for us ? Sa^ ! " But agin I thought of what it said, — "No drunkard shall inherit eternal life." And agin I didn't know what to say, and I hurried him off to bed. But, after he had gone, T spoke out entirely unbeknown to myself, and says, — " I can't see through it." " You can't see through what ? " says Josiah, who wus jest a comin' in. " I can't see through it, why drunkards and murderers are punished, and them that make 'em drink and murder go free. I can't see through it." " Wall, I don't see how you can see through any thing here — dark as pitch." Here he fell over a stool, which made him madder. " Folks make fools of themselves, a follerin' up that sub- ject." Here he stubbed his foot aginst the rockin'-chair, and most fell, and snapped out enough to take my head off,— "The dumb fools will get so before long, that a man can't drink milk porridge without their prayin' over him." Says I, " Be calm ! stand right still in the middle of the floor, Josiah Allen, and I'll light a lamp," which I did ; and he sot down cleverer, though he says, — " You want to take away all the rights of a man. i I •f t ■n !n 172 SWEET CICELY. 'S5 »• I il n ■.J J k.. J Liquor is good for sickness, and you know it. You go onto extremes, you go too fur." Says I calmly, " Do you s'pose, at this late hour, I am goin' to stop bein' mejum ? No ! mejum have I lived, and mejum will I die. I believe liquor is good for medicine: if I should say I didn't, I should be a lyin', which I am fur from wantiu' to do at my age. I think it kep' mother Allen alive for years, jest as I believe arsenic broke up Bildad Smith's chills. And I s'pose folks have jest as good a right to use it for the benefit of their health, as to use any other pizen, or fire, or any thing. "And it should be used jest like pizen and fire and etcetery. You don't want to eat pizen for a treat, or pass it round amongst your friends. You don't want to play with fire for fun, or burn yourself up with it. You don't want to use it to confligrate yourself or anybody else. " So with liquor. You don't want to drink liquor to kill yourself with, or to kill other folks. You don't want to inebriate with it. If I had my way, Josiah Allen," says I firmly, "the hull li(iuor-trade should be in the hands of doctors, who wouldn't sell a drop without know- in' positive that it wus needed for sickness, or the aged and infirm. Good, honest doctors who couldn't be bought nor sold." " Where would you find 'em ? " says Josiah in a gruff tone (I mistrust his toe pained him). Says I thoughtfully, "Surely there is one good, reliable man left in every town — that could be found." " I don't know about it," says he, sort o' musin'ly. " I am gettin* pretty old to begin it, but I don't know but I might get to be a doctor now." 11 V^ tmsm 1 1 SWEET CICELY. 173 Says he, brightenin' up, " It can't take much study to deal out a dose of salts now and then, or count anybody's pult." But says I firmly, " Give up that idee at once, Josiah Allen. I have come out alive, out of all your other plans and progects, and I hain't a goin' to be killed now at my age, by you as a doctor." My tone wus so powerful, and even skairful, that he gin up the idee, and wound up the clock, and went to bed. ] :i^ i! 1 llf'j . j| 1 B 1 I r|l i Mlj j ^:j| . M CHAPTER VI. Cicely wus some better the next day. And two days l)efore we sot sail for Washington, Philury Mesick, the gill Ury was payin' attention to, and who was goin' to keep my house durin' my absence on my tower, come with a small, a very small trunk, ornimented with brass nails. Poor little thing ! I wus always sorry for her, she is so liHle, and so freckled, and so awful willin' to do jest as anybody wants her to. She is a girl that Miss Solomon Gowdey kinder took. And I think, if there is any condi- tion that is hard, it is to be " kinder took." Why, if I was took at all, I should want to be " took.^^ But Miss Gowdey took Philury jest enough not to pay her any regular wages, and didn't take her enough so Pliilury could collect any pay from her when she left. She left, because there wus a hardness between 'em, on account of a grindstun. Philury said Miss Gowdey 's little boy broke the grindstun, and the boy laid it to Philury. Anyway, the grindstun wus broke, and it made a hardness. And when Philury left Miss Gowdey's, all her worldly wealth wuz held in that poor, pitiful lookin' trunk. Why, the trunk looked like Philury, and Philury looked like the trunk. It looked small, and meek, and well disposed ; and the brass nails looked some like frecks, only larger. 174 fi SWEET CICELY. 175 Wall, I felt sorry for her : and I s'posed, that, married or single, she would have to wear stockin's ; so I told her, that, be- sides her wages, she might have all the lamb's - wool yarn she wanted to spin while I was gone, after doin' the house-work. She wus tickled enough as I told her. "Why," says she, "I can spin enough to last me for years and years." " Wall," says I, " so much the better. I have mistrusted," says I, " that Miss Gowdey wouldn't do much for you on account of that hardness about the grindstun ; and knowin' that you hain't got no mother, I have laid out to do h. middlin' well by you and Ury when you get married." And she blushed, and said "she expected to marry Ury sometime — years and years hence." " Wall," says I, " you can spin the yarn anyway." Philury is a real handy little thing about the house. And so williii' and clever, that I guess, if I had asked her to jump into the oven, and bake herself, she would have done it. And so I told Josiah. i "ill! '[ PHILLKY. ■HF 1T6 SWEET CICELY. Si I'M [1 \ ' I »lj ilf i^''l i And he said "li3 thought a little more bakin' wouldn't hurt her." Sayc? he, " She is pretty soft." And says I, " Soft or not, she's good. And that is more than I can say for some folks, who think they know a little more." I will stand up for my sect. Wall, in three days' time we sot sail for Washington, D.C., I a feelin' well about Josiah. For Philury and Ury wus clever, and would do well by him. And the cubbard wus full and overflowin' with every thing good to eat. And I felt that I had indeed, in that cubbard, left him a consoler. Josiah tO' ;k us to the train about an hour and a half too early. But I wus glad we wus on time, because it would have worked Josiah up dretfully if we hadn't been. For he had spent the most of the latter part of the night in gettin' up and walkin' out to the clock to see if it wus approachin' train time : the train left at a quarter to ten. I wus glad on his account, and also on my own ; for at the last minute, as you may say, who should come a run- nin' down to the depot but Sam Shelmadine, a wantin' to send a errent by me to Washington. He kinder wunk me out to one side of the waitin'-room, and asked me " if I would try to get him a license to steal horses." It kinder runs in the blood of the Shelmadines to love to steal, and he owned up that it did. But he wuzn't goin' into it for that, he said : he wanted the profit of it. But I told him " I wouldn't do any such thing ; " and I looked at him in such a witherin' way, that I should most SWEET CICELY. 177 probable have withered liiin, only lie is blind with one eye, and I was on the blind side. Ikit he argued with nie, and said it was no worse than \ to give licenses for other kinds of meanness. He said they give licenses now to steal — steal folks'es senses away, and then they would steal every thing else, and murder, and tear round into every kind of wickedness. But he didn't ask that. He wanted things done fair and square : he jest wanted to steal horses. He was goin' West, and he thought he could do a good business, and lay up something. If he had a license, he shouldn't be afraid of bein' shot up, or shot. But I refused the job with scorn ; and jest as I wus refusin', the cars snorted, and I wus glad they did. They seemed to express in that wild snort something of the indignation I felt. The idee. When Cicely and the boy and I got to Waohington, the shades of twilight was a shadin the earth gently ; and we got a man to take us to Condelick Smith'ses. The man was in a hack, as Cicely called it (and he had a hackin' cough, too, which made it seem more singular). We told him to take us right to Miss Condelick Smith'ses. Condelick is my own cousin on my own side, and traveliii' on the road for groceries. She keeps a nice, quiet boardin'-house. Only a few boarders, "with the comforts of a home, and congenial society," as she wrote to me when she heard I wus a comin' to Washington. She said we had got to go to her house ; so we went, with the distinct knowledge in our minds and pocket-books, of payin' for our 3 boards. ■•r 0^. ^0^ "^i^^^.A. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 IlilU m IIIM M 1.8 U ill 1.6 V] <^ ^ /} 'm •^# .'>■ <$> o ^ ^ /a / / 7 //a Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 1''.580 (716) B72-4i03 Ir-X Q< [<"- l\ 178 SWEET CICELY. ; 1: She was very tickled to see us, and embraced us almost warmly. She had been over a hot fire a cookin'. She is humbly, but likely, I have been told and believe. She has got a wen on her cheek, but that don't hurt her any. Wens hain't nothin' that detract from a person's moral worth. There is only one child in the family, — Condelick, Jr., aged 13. A good, fat boy, with white hair and blue eyes, and a great capacity for blushin', but seemed to be good dispositioned. It wus late supper time ; and we had only time to go up into our rooms, and bathe our weary faces and hands, when we had to go down to supper. Miss Condelick Smith called it dinner: she misspoke herself. Havin' so much on her hands, it is no wonder that she should make a slip once in a while. I should, myself, if my mind wuzn't like iron for strength. There wus only three or four to the table besides us: it wuz later than their usial supper time. There wus a young couple there who had jest been married, and come there to live. Ever sense we left home we had seen sights and sights of brides and groomses. It seemed to be a good time of year for 'em ; and Cicely and I would pass the time by guessin', from their demeaners, how long they had been married. You know they act very soft the first day or two, and then harden gradually, as time passes, till some- times they get very hard. Wall, as I looked at this young pair, I whispered to Cicely, — « 2 days." SWEET CICELY. 179 They acted well. Though I see with pain that the bride was tryin' to foller after the groom blindly, and I see she was a layin' up trouble for herself. Amongst other good things, they had a baked chicken for supper ; and when the young husband wus asked what part of the fowl he would take, he said, — " It was immaterial ! " And then, when they asked the bride, she blushed sweetly, and said, — " She would take a piece of the immaterial too." And she bein' next to me, I said to her in a low tone, but firm and motherly, — " You are a beginner in married life ; and I say to you, as one who has had stiddy practice for 20 years, begin right. Let your affections be firm as adamant, cling closely to Duty's apron-strings, but do not too blindly copy after your groom. Try to stand up on your own feet, and be a helpmate to him, not a dead weight for him to carry. Do branch right out, and tell what part of the fowl, or of life, you want, if it hain't nothin' but the giz- zard or neck ; and then try to get it. If you don't have any self-reliance, if you don't try to help yourself any, it is highly probable to me, that you won't get any thing more out of the fowl, or of life, than a piece of 'the immaterial.' " She blushed, and said she would. And so Duty bein' appeased, and attended to, I calmly pursued my own meal. The next morning Cicely was so beat out that she couldn't get up at all. She wuzn't sick, only jest tired out. And so the boy and I sot out alone. m 'ill ■ « I f ■•1 -. f ^{^ ^^i ' Hi ' In we .^M 1 t V 1^ 180 SWEET CICELY. I told Cicely I would do my errents the first thing, so as to leave my mind and my conscience clear for the rest of my stay. And I knew there wiiz a good many who would feel SAMANTHA ADVISINO THE BRIDE. hurt, deeply hurt, if I didn't notice 'em right off the first thing. The President, and lots of 'em, I knew would take it right to heart, and feel dretfuUy worked up and slighted, if I didn't call on 'em. And then, I had to carry Dorlesky's errent to the Presi- M\^i-i' SWEET CICELY. 181 dent anyway. And I thought I would tend to it right away, so I sot out in good season. When you are a noticin' anybody, and matin' 'em per- fectly happy, you feel well yourself. I was in good spirits, and quite a number of 'em. The boy wus feelin' weM too. He had a little black velvet suit and a deep lace collar, and his gold curls was a hangin' down under his little black velvet cap. They made him look more baby- ish; but I believe Cicely kept 'em so to ma^v him look young, she felt sc dubersome about his future But he looked sweet enough to kiss right there in the street. I, too, looked well, very. I had on that new dress, Bis- mark brown, the color remindin' me of 2 noble patriots. And made by a Martha. I thought of that proudly, as I looked at George's benign face on the top of the monu- ment, and wondered what he'd say if he see it, and hefted my emotions I had when causin' it to be made for my tower. I realized as I meandered along, that patriotism wus enwrappin' me from head to foot ; for my polynay was long, and my head was completely full of Gass'es "Journal," and Starks'es "Life of Washington," and a few martyrs. I wus carryin' Dorlesky's errents. On the outside of my head I had a good honorable shirred silk bunnet, the color of my dress, a good solid brown (that same color, B. B.). And my usial long green veil, with a lute-string ribbon run in, hung down on one side of my bunnet in its wonted way. It hung gracefully, and yet it seemed to me there wus both dignity and principle in it::, hang. It give me a sort of a dressy look, but none too dressy. J lit; if'' I(<.(t i.:f ■I', •■ H i iJ IBI 182 SWEET CICELY. a i V. m 1 And so we wended our way down the broad, beautiful streets towards the White House. Handsomer streets I never see. I had thought Jones- ville streets wus middlin' handsome and roomy. Why, two double wagons can go by each other with perfect safety, right in front of the grocery stores, where there is lots of boxes too ; and wimmen can be a walkin' there too at the same time, hefty ones. But, good land! Loads of hay could pass each other here, and droves of dromedaries, and camels, and not touch each other, and then there would be lots of room for men and wimmen, and for wagons to rumble, and perioguers to float up and down — if perioguers could sail on dry land. ■ Roomier, handsomer, well shadeder streets I never want to see, nor don't expect to. Why, Jonesville streets are like tape compared with 'em; and Loontown and Toad Holler, they are like thread, No. 60 (allegory). SAMAliTHA AND PAUL ON THE WAY TO THE WHITE HOUSE. SWEET CICELY. 183 Rub Smith wus well acquainted with the President's hired man, so he let us in without parlay. I don't believe in talkin big as a general thing. But thinks'es I, Here I be, a holdin' up the dignity of Jones- ville : and here I be, on a deep, heart-searchin' errent to the Nation. So I said, in words and axents a good deal like them I have read of in " Children of the Abbey," and " Charlotte Temple," — " Is the President of the United States within?" He said he was, but said sunthin' about his not receiv- ing calls in the mornings. But I says in a very polite way, — for I like to put folks at their ease, presidents or peddlers or any thing, — " It hain't no matter at all if he hain't dressed up — of course he wuzn't expectin' company. Josiah don't dress up r^ornin's." And then he says something about "he didn't know but he was engaged." Says I, " That hain't no news to me, nor the Nation. We have been a hearin' that for three years, right along. And if he is engaged, it hain't no good reason why he shouldn't speak to other wimmen, — good, honorable mar- ried ones too." " Well," says he finally, " I will take up your card." " No, you won't ! " says I firmly. " I am a Methodist I I guess I can start off on a short tower, without takin' a pack of cards with me. And if I had 'em right here in my pocket, or a set of dominoes, I shouldn't expect to take up the time of the President of the United States a playin' games at this time of the day." Says I in deep tones, " I am a carrien' errents to the President that the world knows not of." 3* s i: f 184 SWEET CICELY. He bluslied up red ; he was ashamed ; and he said " he would see if I could be admitted." And he led the way along, and I follered, and the boy. Bub Smith had left us at the door. The hired man seemed to think I would want to look round some ; and he walked sort o' slow, out of courtesy. But, good land ! how little that hired man knew my feel- in 's, as he led me on, I a thinkin' to myself, — " Here I am, a steppin' where G. Washington strode.'* Oh the grandeur of my feelin's ! The nobility of 'em ! and the quantity ! Why, it was a perfect sight. But right into these exalted sentiments the hired man in- truded witli his frivolous remarks, — worse than frivolous. He says agin something about "not knowin' whether the President would be ready to receive me." And I stepped down sudden from that lofty piller I had trod on in my mind, and says I, — " I tell you agin, I don't care whether he is dressed up or not. I come on principle, and I shall look at him through that eye, and no other." "Wall," says he, turnin' sort o' red agin (he was ashamed), " have you noticed the beauty of the didos ? " But I kep' my head right up in the air nobly, and never turned to the right or the left ; and says I, ■ — " I don't see no beauty in cuttin' up didos, nor never did. I have heard that they did such things here in Washington, D.C., but I do not choose to have my atten- tion drawed to 'em." , But I pondered a minute, and the word " meetin'-house " struck a fearful blow aginst my conscience ; and I says in milder axents, — Wmmmm SWEET CICELY. 185 " If I looked upon a dido at all, it would be, not with a human woman's eye, but the eye of a Methodist. My duty draws me : — point out the dido, and I will look at it through that one eye." And he says, " I was a talkin' about the walls of this room." And I says, "Why couldn't you say so in the first place ? The idee of skairiu' folks I or tryin' to," I added ; for I hain't easily skairt. The walls wus perfectly beautiful, and so wus the ceilin' aiiJ floors. There wuzn't a house in Jonesville that could compare with it, though we had painted our meetin-house over at a cost of upwards of 28 dollars. But it didn't come up to this — not ludf. President Arthur has got good taste ; and I thought to myself, and I says to the hired man, as I looked round and see the soft richness and quiet beauty and grandeur of the surroundings, — " I had just as lives have him pick me out a calico dress as to pick it out myself. And that is sayin' a great deal," says I. " I am always very putickuler in calico : richness and beauty is what I look out for, and wear." Jest as I wus sayin' this, the hired man opened a door into a lofty, beautiful room ; and says he, — " Step in here, madam, into the antick room, and I'll see if the President can see you ; " and he started off sudden, bein' called. And I jest turned round and looked after him, for I wanted to enquire into it. I had heard of their cuttin' up anticks at Washington, — I had come prepared for it ; but I didn't know as they was bold enough to come right out, and have rooms devoted to that purpose. And I looked all round the room before I ventured in. But 186 SWEET CICELY. it looked neat as a pin, and not a soul in there ; and thinks'es I, " It hain't probable their day for cuttin' up anticks. I guess I'll venture." So I went in. But I sot pretty near the edge of the cliair, ready to jump at the first thing I didn't like. And I kep' a close holt of the boy. I felt that I was right in the midst of dangers. I had feared and foreboded, — oh, how I had feared and foreboded about the dangers and deep perils of Washington, D.C. ! And here I wuz, the very first thing, invited right in broad daylight, with no excuse or any thing, right into a antick room. Oh, how thankful, how thankful I wuz, that Josiah Allen wuzn't there I I knew, as he felt a good deal of the time, an antick room was what he would choose out of all others. And I felt stronger than ever the deep resolve that Josiah Allen should not run. He must not be exposed to such dangers, with his mind as it wuz, and his heft. I felt that he would stickumb. And I wondered that President Arthur, who I had always heard was a perfect gentleman, should come to have a room called like that, but s'posed it was there when he went. I don't believe he'd countenance any thing of the kind. I was jest a thinkin' this when the hired man come back, and said, — " The President would receive me." " Wall," says I calmly, " I am ready to be received." So I follered him ; and he led the way into a beautiful room, kinder round, and red colored, with lots of elegant pictures and lookin'-glasses and books. wmmm SWEET CICELY. 187 The President sot before a table covered with books and papers : and, good land ! he no need to have been afraid and hung back ; he was dressed up slick — slick enough for meetin', or a parin'-bee, or any thing. He had on a sort of a gray suit, and a rose-bud in his button-hole. He was a good-lookin' man, though he had a middlin' tired look in his kinder brown eyes as he looked up. I had calculated to act noble on that occasion, as I appeared before him who stood in the large, lofty shoes of the revered G. W., and sot in the chair of the (nearly) angel Garfield. I had thought that likely as not, entirely unbeknown to me, I should soar right off into a eloquent oration. For I honored him as a President. I felt like neighborin' with him on account of his name — Allen ! (That name 1 took at the alter of Jonesville, and pure love.) But how little can we calculate on future contingencies, or what we shall do when we get there ! As I stood be- fore him, I only said what I had said before on a similar occasion, these simple words, that yet mean so much, so much, — SAMANTHA MEETING THE PRESIDENT. iiif I SWEET CICELY. " Allen, I have come ! " He, too, was overcome by his feelin's : I see he wuz. His face looked fairly bolemu ; but, as he is a perfect gen- tleman, he controlled himself, and said quietly these words, that, too, have a deep import, — " I see you have." He then shook hands with me, and I with him. I, too, am a perfect lady. And then he drawed up a chair for me with his own hands (hands that grip holt of the same helium that G. W. had gripped holt of. O soul ! be calm when I think out), and asked me to set down ; and conse- quently I sot. I leaned my umberell in a easy, careless position against a adjacent chair, adjusted my green veil in long, graceful folds, — I hain't vain, but I like to look well, — and then I at once told him of my errents. I told him — "I had brought three errents to him from Jonesville, — one for myself, and two for Dorlesky Burpy." He bowed, but didn't say nothin' : he looked tired. Josiah always looks tired in the mornin' when he has got his milkin' and barn-chores done, so it didn't surprise me. And bavin' calculated to tackle him on my own errent first, consequently I tackled him. I told him how deep my love and devotion to my pard- ner wuz. And he said, " he had heard of it." And I says, " I s'pose so. I s'pose such things will spread, bein' a sort of a rarity. I'd heard that it had got out, way beyend Loontown, and all round." " Yes," he said, " it was spoke of a good deal." " Wall," says I, " the cast-iron love and devotion I feel SWEET CICELY. 189 for that man don*t show off the brightest in hours of joy and peace. It towers up strongest in dangers and trou- bles." And then I went on to tell him how Josiah wanted to come there as senator, and what a dangerous place I had always heard Washington wuz, and how I had felt it was impossible for me to lay down on my goose-feather pillow at home, in peace and safety, while my pardner was a grapplin' with dangers of which I did not know the exact size and heft. And so I had made up my mind to come ahead of him, as a forerunner on a tower, to see jest what the dangers wuz, and see if I dast trust my compan- ion there. "And now," says I, "I want you to tell me candid," says I. " Your settin' in George Washington's high chair makes me look up to you. It is a sightly place ; you can see fur: your name bein' Allen makes me feel sort o' confidential and good towards you, and I want you to talk real honest and candid with me." Says I solemnly, "I ask you, Allen, not as a politician, but as a human bein', would you dast to let Josiah come ? " Says he, "The danger to the man and the nation de- pends a good deal on what sort of a man it is that comes." Then was a tryin' time for me. I would not lie, neither would I brook one word against my companion, even from myself. So I says, — " He is a man that has traits and qualities, and sights of 'em." But thinkin' that I must do so, if I got true informa- tion of dangers, I went on, and told of Josiah's political aims, which I considered dangerous to himself and the nation. And I told him of The Plan, and my dark fore- bodin's about it. . " ^Wf^ 'ni I \l 190 SWEET CICELY. The President didn't act surprised a mite. And finally he told me, what I had always mistrusted, but never knew, that Josiah had wrote to him all his political views and aspirations, and offered his help to the Government. A.nd says ho. "I think I know all about the man." "Then," lys I, "you see he is a good deal like other men." And he said, sort o' dreamily, "that he was." And then agin silence rained. He was a thinkin', I knew, on all the deep dangers that hedged in Josiah Allen and America if he come. And a musin' on all the prob- able dangers of the Plan. And a thinkin' it over how to do jest right in the matter, — rigLi by Josiah, right by the nation, right by me. Finally the suspense of the moment wore onto me too deep to bear, and I says in almost harrowin' tones of anxiety and suspense, — " Would it be safe for my pardner to come to Washing- ton ? Would it be safe for Josiah, safe for the nation ? " Says I, in deeper, mournfuler tones, — " Would you — would you dast to let him come ? " He said, sort o' dreamily, " that those views and aes^^ira- tions of Josiah's wasn't really needed at Washington, they had plenty of them there; and" — But I says, " I must have a plainer answer to ease my mind and heart. Do tell me plain, — would you dast ? " He looked full at me. He has got good, honest-looking eyes, and a sensible, candid look onto him. He liked me, — I knew he did from his looks, — a calm, Methodist- Episcopal likin', — nothin' light. And I see in them eyes that he didn't like Josiah's ^^1 ■■•"^$. aWEET CICELY. 191 ii>\ political idees. I see that he was afraid, as afraid as death of that plan ; and I see that he considered Washington a dangerous, dangerous place for grangers and Josiah Aliens to be a roamin' round in. I could see tiiat he dreaded ' ,*' i^ ■; I! il.h 1 1 11 i i ! 1 1 1 1 i mt ' ' ' W\ If 11 iHki '■ ;) I ' ■ n III ■llll i't 1 1 1 i 7 1 1 1 1-1 n : 1 H '' ' i'> ' 111 ( L 196 BWEET CICELY. through the dram-seller's hands, and 2 or 3 cents of it fall iiito the National purse at last, putrid, and heavy with all these losses and curses and crimes and shames and de- spairs and agonies ? " He seemed to think it would : I see by the looks of liis linement, he did. Every honorable man feels so in his heart ; and yet they let the liquor ring control 'em, and lead 'em round. Says I, " All the intellectual and moral power of the United States are jest rolled up and thrust into that Whiskey Ring, and are being drove by the whiskey-deal- ers jest where they want to drive 'em." Says I, " It con- trols New-York village, and nobody pretends to deny it ; and all the piety and philanthropy and culture and philosi- phy of that village has to be jest drawed along in that Ring. And," says I, in low but startlin' tones of prin- ciple, — "Where, where, is it a drawin' 'em to? Where is it a drawin' the hull nation to ? Is it a drawin' 'em down into a slavery ten times more abject and soul-destroyin' than African slavery ever was ? Tell me," says I firmly, " tell me." His mean looked impressed, but he did not try to frame a reply. I think he could not find a frame. There is no frame to that reply. It is a conundrum as boundless as truth and God's justice, and as solemnly deep in its sure consequences of evil as eternity, and as sure to come as that is. Agin I says, " Where is that Ring a drawin' the United States ? Where is it a drawin' Dorlesky ? " " Oh ! Dorlesky ! " says he, a comiu' up out of his deep '■.('A ;.. SWEET CICELY. 197 revcryin', but polite, — a politer demeanerd, gentlemanly appeariner man I don't want to see. " Ah, yes ! I would be glad, Josiah Allen's wife, to do her errent. I think Dorlesky is justified in asking to have the Ring destroyed. But I am not the one to go to — I am not the one to do her errent." Says I, " Who is the man, or men ? " Says he, " James G. Blaine." Says I, "Is that so? I will go right to James G. Blaineses." So I spoke to the boy. He had been all engaged lookin' out of the winders, but he was willin' to go. And the President took the boy upon his knee, wantin' to do something agreeable, I s'pose, seein' he couldn't do the errent. And he says, jest to make himself pleasant to the boy, — " Well, my little man, are you a Republican, or Demo- crat?" " I am a Epispocal." And seein' the boy seemed to be headed onto theoligy instead of politics, and wantin' to kinder show him off, I says, — " Tell the gentleman who made you." He spoke right up prompt, as if hurry in' to get through theoligy, so's to tackle sunthin' else. He answered as ex- haustively as an exhauster could at a meetin', — "I was made out of dust, and breathed into. I am made out of God and dirt." Oh, how deep, how deep that child is ! I never had heard him say that before. But how true it wuz ! The divine and the human, linked so close together from birth u m flral ':4'(? l^^W "^ !d HBn M mm ''■i\\ mSm \t\\ |Hm \ '11 s KHi ill' m jHj I ■Hp 198 SWEET CICELY. till death. No philosipher that ever philosiphized could go deeper or higher. I see the President looked impressed. But the boy i 1 "l AM A EPI8P0CAL." branched off quick, for he seemed fairly burstin' with ques- tions. " Sai/, what is this house called the White House for ? Is it because it is to help white folks, and not help the black ones, and Injins ? " SWEET CICELY. 199 I declare, I almost thought the boy had heard sunthiu' about the elections in the South, j>.nd the Congressional vote for cuttin' down the money for the Indian schools. Legislative action to perpetuate the ignorance and bru- tality of a race. The President said dreamily, " No, it wasn't for that." "Well, is it called white like the gate of the City is? Mamma said that was white, — a pearl, you know, — because every thing was pure and white inside the City. Is it because the laws that are made here are all white and good ? And say " — Here his eyes looked dark and big with excitement. "What is George Washington up on top of that big white piller for ? " " He was a great man." " How much did he weigh ? How many yards did it take for his vest — forty ? " " He did great and noble deeds — he fought and bled." " If fighting makes folks great, why did mamma punish me when I fought with Jim Gowdey ? He stole my jack- knife, and knocked me down, and set down on me, and took my chewing-gum away from me, and chewed it him- self. And I rose against him, and we fought and bled : my nose bled, and so did his. But I got it away from him, and chev/ed it myself. But mamma punished me, and said ' God wouldn't love me if I quarrelled so, and if we couldn't agree, we must get somebody to settle our trouble for us.' Why didn't she stand me up on a big white pil- low out in the door-yard, and be proud of me, and not shut me up in a dark closet ? " " He fought for Liberty." III :Hh *i. i ij;l| til 200 SWEET CICELY. J: "Did he get it?" " He fought that the United States might be free." "Is it free?" The President waved off tliat question, and the boy kep' on. •'Is it true what you have been talkin' about, — istliere a great big ring put all round it, and is it bein' drawed along into a mean place? " And then the boy's eyes grew black with excitement ; WAU DECLAKEI). and he kep' right on without ^" .'.uii' for breath, or for a answer, — " He had heard it talked about, was it right to let any- body do wrong for money ? Did the United States do it ? Did it make mean things right? If it did, he wanted to get one of Tom Gowdy's white rats. He wouldn't sell it, and he wanted it. His mother wouldn't let him steal it ; but if the United States could make it right for him to do wrong, he had got ten cents of his own, and he'd buy the right to get that white rat. And if Tom wanted to cry SWEET CICELY. 201 about it, let him. If the United States sold him the right to do it, he guessed he could do it, no matter how much whimperin' there was, and no matter who said it was wrong. J£e icanted the rat."'' liut I see the President's eyes, which had looked kinder rested when he took him up, grew bigger and bigger with surj)rise ajul anxiety. I guess lie thought he had got his day's work in front of liim. And I told the boy we must go. And then I says to the President, — ''That I knew he was quite a traveller, and of course he wouldn't want to die without seein' Jonesville ; " and says I, "Be sure to come to our house to supper when you come." Says I, "I can't reccomend the huntin' so much ; there liaint nothin' more excitin' to shoot than red squirrels and chipmunks : but there is (piite good fishin' in the creek back of our house ; they ketched 4 horned Asa's there last week, and lots of chubs." He smiled real agreable, and said, "when he visited Jonesville, he wouldn't fail to take tea with me." Says I, " So do ; and, if you get lost, you jest enquire at the Corners of old Grout Nickleson, and he will set you right." He smiled agin, and said " he wouldn't fail to enquire if he got lost." And then I shook hands with him, thinkin' it would be expected of me (his hands are white, and not much big- ger than Tirzah Ann's). And then I removed the boy by voyalence, for he was a askin' questions agin, faster than ever ; and he poured out over his shoulder a partin' drib- ble of questions, that lasted till we got outside. And then he tackled me, and he asked me somewhere in the neigh- i.:! 1**1' ill! .»;! 11 ^i i 202 8WEET CICELY. borhood of a 1,000 queations on the way back to Miss Smiths'es. He begun agin on George Washington jest as quick as he ketched sight of his monument agin. "If George Wasliington is up on tlie top of tliat monu- ment for tellin' the truth, wliy didn't all the big men try to tell the truth so's to be stood up on pillows out- doors, and not be a layin' down in the grass? And did the little hatchet help him do right? If it did, why didn't all ihe big men wear them in their belts to do right with, and tell the truth with ? And sat/ " — Oh, dear me suz ! He asked me over 40 questions to a lamp-post, for I counted 'em ; and there wuz 18 posts. Good land ! I'd ruther wash than try to answer him ; but he looked so sweet and good-natured and confidin', his eyes danced so, and he was so awful pretty, that I felt in the midst of my deep fag, that I could kiss him right there in the street if it wuzn't for the looks of it : he is a beauti- ful child, and very deep. ! if. * CHAPTER VII. ) Wall, after dinner I sot sail for James G. Blains'es, a walkin' afoot, and curryin' Dorlesky's errent. I was deter- mined to do that errent before I slept. I am very obleegin', and am called so. When I got to Mr. Blains'es, I was considerably tired ; for though Dorlesky's errent might not be heavy as weighed by the steelyards, yet it was very hefty and wearin' on the moral feelin's. And my firm, unalterable determination to carry it straight, and tend to it, to the very utmot.i' of my ability, strained on me. I was fagged. But I don't believe Mr. Blaine see the fag. I shook hands with him, and there was calmness in that shake. I passed the compliments of the day (how do you do, etc.), and there was peace and dignity in them compliments. He was most probable, glad I had come. But he didn't seem quite so over-rejoiced as he probable would if he hadn't been so busy. I can't be so highly tickled when company comes, when I am washin' and cleanin' house. He had piles and piles of papers on the table before him. And there was a gentleman a settin' at the end of the room a readia'. 908 r* ''H n: m^ I:: ■1; ■! 204 SWEET CICELY. I like James G. Blaines'es looks middlin' well. Al- though, like myself, he don't set up for a professional be.auty. It seems as if some of the strength of the moun- tain pines round his old home is a holdin' up his backbone, and some of the braein' air of the pine woods of Maine has blowed into James'es intellect, and braced it. 8AMANTHA MEETING JAMES G. BLAINE. I think enough of James, but not too much. My likin' is jest about strong enough from a literary person to a literary person. We are both literary, very. He is considerable taller than I am ; and on that account, and a good many others, I felt like lookin' up to him. SWEET CICELY. 205 I 'I Wall, Avlien I have got a hard job in front of me, I don't know any better way than to tackle it to once. So con- sequently I tackled it. I told James, that Dorlesky Biirpy had sent two errents by me, and I had brought 'em from Jonesville on my tower. And then I told him jest how she had suffered from the Whisky Ring, and how she had suffered from not havin' her rights ; and I told him all about her relations sufterin', and that Dorlesky wanted the Ring broke, and her rights gin to her, within seven days at the longest. He rubbed his brow thoughtfully, and says, — "It will be difficult to accomplish so much in so short a time." " I know it," says I. " I told Dorlesky it would. Rut she feels jest so, and I promised to do her errent ; and I am a doin' it." Agin he rubbed his brow in dce[) thought, and agin he says, — "I don't think Dorlesky is unreasonable in her demands, only in the length of time she has set." Says I, "That is jest what I told Dorlesky. I didn't believe you could do her errents this week. But you can see for yourself that she is right, only in the time she has sot." " Yes," he said. " He see she wuz." And says he, " I wish the 3 could be reconciled." "What 3?" says I. Says he, " The liquor traffic, liberty, and Dorlesky." And then come the very hardest part of my errent. But I had to do it. I had to. n I 'I. ft I \ I <■! I'! I'i !: ,V! M i H 206 SWEET CICELY. Says I, in the deep, solemn tones befitting the threat, for I wuzn't the woman to cheat Dorlesky when she was out of sight, and use the wrong tones at the wrong times. — no, I used my deepest and most skairful one — says I, " Dorlesky told me to tell you that if you didn't do her errent, you should not be the next President of the United States." He turned pale. He looked agitated, fearful agitated. I s'pose it was not only my words and tone that skairt him, but my mean. I put on my noblest mean ; and I s'pose I have got a very noble, high-headed mean at times. I got it, I think, in the first place, by overlookin' Josiah's faults. I always said '. wife ort to overlook her husband's faults; and I ^ave to -verlook so many, that it has made me about as high-headed, sometimes, as a warlike gander, but more sort o' meller-lookin', and sublime, kinder. He stood white as a piece of a piller-case, and seemin'ly l)lunged down into the deepest thought. But finally he riz part way out of it, and says he, — " I want to be on the side of Truth and Justice. I want to, awfully. And while I do not want to be Presi- dent of the United States, yet at the same time I do want to be — if you'll understand that paradox," says he. "Yes," says I sadly. "I understand that paradox. I have seen it myself, right in my own family." And I sithed. And agin silence rained ; and I sot quietly in the rain, thinkin' mebby good would come of it. Finally he riz out of his revery; and says he, with a brighter look on his linement, — " I am not the one to go to. I am not the one to do Dorlesky's errent." SWEET CICELY. 207 " Who is the one ? " says I. " Senator Logan," says he. Says I, " I'll send Bub Smith to Senator Logan'ses the minute I get back ; for much as I want to obleege a neiglibor, I can't traipse all over Washington, walkin' afoot, and carry in' Dorlesky's errent. But Bub is trusty : I'll send him." And I riz up to go. He riz up too. He is a gentleman ; and, as I said, I like his looks. He has got that grand sort of a noble look, I have seen in other literary people, or has been seen in 'em; but modesty forbids my say in' a word further. But jest at this minute Mr. Blaines'es hired nan come in, and told him that he was wanted below ; and he took up his hat and gloves. But jest as he was startin' out, he says, turnin' to the other gentleman in the room, — " This gentleman is a senator. Mebby he can do Dor- lesky's errent for you." " Wall," says I, " I would be glad to get it done, with- out goin' any further. It would tickle Dorlesky most to death, and lots and lots of other wim^^ien." Mr. Blaine spoke to the gentleman ; and he come for- ward, and Mr. Blaine introduced us. But I didn't ketch his name ; because, jest as Mr. Blaine spoke it, my umber- ell fell, and the gentleman sprung forward to pick it up ; and then he shook hands with me : and Mr. Blaine said good-bye to me, and started off. I felt willin' and glad to have this senator do Dorlesky's errents, but I didn't like his looks from the very first minute I sot my eyes on him. My land ! talk about Dorlesky Burpy bein' disagreable ',■«: i ! ^' ^f I' % i I 208 SWEET CICELY. i I ~ I — he wus as disagreable as she is, any day. He was kinder tall, and looked out of his eyes, and wore a vest : I don't know as I can describe him any more close than that. He was some bald-headed, and he kinder smiled MR. BLAINE INTRODUCING THE SENATOR. once in a while : I persiime he will be known by this description. It is plain, anyway, almost lucid. But his baldness didn't look to me like Josiah Allen's baldness ; and he didn't have a mite of that smart, straight- SWEET CICELY. 209 forward way of Blaine, oi the perfect courtesy and kind- ness of Allen Arthur. No . I sort o' despised him from the first minute. Wall, he was dretful police : good land ! politeness is no name for his mean. Truly, as Josiah Allen says, 1 (hm't like to see anybody too good. He drawed a cha\ up, for me and for himself, and asked me, — "If he should have the inexpressible honor and the delightful joy of aiding me in any way : if so, command him to do it," or words to that effect. I can't put down his smiles, and genteel looks, and don't want to if I could. But tacklin' hard jobs as I always tackle 'em, I sot right down calmly in front of him, with my umberell acrost my lap, and told him over all of Dorlesky's errents. And how I had brought 'em from Jones ville on my tower. I told over all of her sufferin's, from the Ring, and from not havin' her rights; and all her sister Susan Clai)sad- dle's sufferin's; and all her aunt Eunice's and Patty's, and Drusilla's and Abagail's, sufferin's. I did her errent up honorable and square, as I would love to have a errent done for me. I told him all the particulers ; and as I fin- ished, I said firmly, — "Now, can you do Dorlesky's errents? and will you?" He leaned forward with that deceitful and sort of disa- greable smile of hisen, and took up one corner of my mantilly. It wus cut tab fashion ; and he took up the tab, and says he, in a low, insinuatin' voice, and lookin' close at the edge of the tab, — " Am I mistaken, or is this pipein' ? or can it be Ken- sington tattin' ? " lii . : *■ fr I i i 210 SWEET CICELY. I jest drawed the tab back coldly, and never dained a reply. Again he says, in a tone of amiable anxiety, — " Have I not heard a rumor that bangs were ^oing out of style ? I see you do not wear your lovely ha r bang- like, or a pompidorus ! Ah ! wimmen are lovely c -eatures, lovely beings, every one of them." And he sithed. " You are very beautiful." And he sithed agin, a sort of a deceitful, love-sick sithe. I sot demute as the Sfinx, and a chippin'-bird a tappin' bis wing against her stunny breast would move it jest as much as he moved me by his talk or his sithes. But he kep' on, puttin' on a kind of a sad, injured look, as if my coldness wus ondoin' of him, — " My dear madam, it is my misfortune that the topics I introduce, however carefully selected by me, do not seem to be congenial to you. Have you a leaning toward nat- ural history, madam? Have you ever studied into the traits and habits of our American wad ? " "What?" says I. For truly, a woman's curiosity, however paralized by just indignation, can stand only jest so much strain. " The what ? " "The wad. The animal from which is obtained the valuable fur that tailors make so much use of." Says I, " Do you mean waddin' 8 cents a sheet?" "8 cents a pelt — yes, the skins are plentiful and cheap, owing to the hardy habits of the animal." Says I, " Cease instantly. I will hear no more." Truly, I had heard much of the flattery and the little talk that statesmen will use to wimmen, and I had heard much of their lies, etc. ; but truly, I felt that the i had not been told. And then T thought out loud, and says, — SWEET CICELY. 211 " I have hearn how laws of right and justice are sot one side in Washington, D.C., as bein' too triflin' to attend to, while the legislators pondered over, and passed law« regardin', hens' eggs and birds' nests. But this is goin' too fur — too fur. But," says I firmly, "I shall do Dor- Icsky's errents, and do 'em to the best of my ability ; and you can't dra\. off my attention from her sufferin's and her suffraghi's by talkin' about wads." " I would love to obleege Dorlesky," says he, " because she belongs to such a lovely sex. Wimmen are the love- liest, most angelic creatures that ever walked the earth: they are perfect, flawless, like snow and roses." Says I firmly, " That hain't no such thing. They are disagreable creeters a good deal of the time. They hain't no better than men. But they ought to have their rights all the same. Now, Dorlesky is disagreable, and kinder fierce actin', and jest as humbly as they make wim- but that hain't no sign she ort to be imposed upon. men Josiah says, ' She hadn't ort to have a right, not a single right, because she is so humbly.' But I don't feel so." " Who is Josiah ? " says he. Says I, " My husband." " Ah ! your husband I yes, wimmen should have hus- bands instead of rights. They do not need rights, they need freedom from all cares and sufferings. Sweet, lovely beings, let them have husbands to lift them above all earthly cares and trials ! Oh ! angels of our homes," says he, liftin' his eyes to the heavens, and kinder shettin' 'em, some as if he was goin' into a trance, "fly around, ye angels, in your native haunts I mingle not with rings, and vile laws ; flee away, flee above them." If I i. 212 SWEET CICELY. (( And he kinder moved liis hand back and forth, in a floatin' fashion, up in the air, as if it was a woman a flyin' up there, smooth and serene. It would have impresced some folks dretful, but it didn't me. I says reasonably, — Dorlesky would have been glad to flew above 'em. But the ring and thj vile laws laid holt of her, unbeknown to her, an 1 dragged her dow.i. And there she is, all dragged and bruised and broken- hearted by it. She didn't meddle with the political ling, but the ring med- dled with her. How can she fly when the weight of this infamous traffic is a holdin' her down ? " " Ahem I " says he. "Ahem, as it were — as I was saying, my dear madam, these angelic angels of our homes are too ethereal, too dainty, to mingle with the rude crowds. We political men would fain keep them as they are now : we are will- ing to stand the rude buffe tings of — of — voting, in order to guard these sweet, delicate creatures from any hard- ships. Sweet, tender beings, we would fain guard you — ah, yes ! ah, yes I " "fly around, ye angels." SWEET CICELY. 213 Says I, "Cease instantly, or my sickness will increase ; for such talk is like thorough wort or lobelia to my moral stomach." Says I, " You know, and I know, that these angelic, ten- der bein's, half clothed, fill our streets on icy midnights, hunt- in' up drunken husbands and fathers and sons. They are driven to death and to moral woman's kights. ruin by the miserable want liquor - drinkin' entails. They are starved, they are frozen, the" are beaten, they are made childless and hopeless, by drunken hus- b a n d s killing their own flesh and blood. SOMEBODY BLUNDBBBD. '^h li i 214 SWEET CICELY. They go down into the cold waves, and are drowned by drunken captains ; tliey are cast from railways into death, by drunken engineers ; they go up on the scaff'old, and die of crimes committed by the direct aid of this agent of hell. '■'■ Winnnen had rnther be a flvin' round than to do all this, but they can't. If men really believe all they say about wimmen, and I think some of 'em do, in a dreamy way — it' wimmen are angels, give 'em the rights of angels. Who ever heard of a angel foldin' up her wings, and goin' to a poorhoiise or jail through the fault of somebody else? Who ever heard of a angel bein' dragged off to a police court by a lot of men, for fightin' to defend her children and herself from a drunken husband that had broke her wings, and blacked her eyes, himself, got the angel into the fight, and then she got throwed into the streets and the prison by it? Who ever heard of a angel havin' to take in washin' to support a drunken son or father or hus- band ? Who ever heard of a angel goin' out as wet nurse to get money to pay taxes on her home to a Government that in theory idolizes her, and practically despises her, and uses that same money in ways abomenable to that angel ? " If you want to be consistent — if you are bound to make angels of wimmen, you ort to furnish a free, safe place for 'em to soar in. You ort to keep the angels from bein' meddled with, and bruised, and killed, etc." " Ahem," says he. " As it were, ahem." But I kep' right on, for I begun to feel noble and by the side of myself. " This talk about wimmen bein' outside and above all participation in the laws of her country, is jest as pretty SWEET CICELY. 215 as I ever heard any thing, and jest as simple. Why, you might jest as well throw a lot of snowHakes into the street, and say, ' Some of 'em are female flakes, and mustn't he trampled on.' The great march of life tramples on 'em all alike : they fall from one common sky, and are trodden down into one common ground. " Men and wimmen are made with divine impulses and desires, and human needs and weaknesses, needin' the same heavenly light, and the same human aids and helps. The law should meet out to them the same rewards and punishments. " Dorlesky says you call wimmens angels, and you don't give 'em the rights of the lowest beasts that crawls upon the earth. And Dorlesky told me to tell you that she didn't ask the rights of a angel : she would be perfectl}- contented and proud if you would give her the rights of a dog — the assured political rights of a yeller dog. She said ' yeller ; ' and I am bound on doin' her errent jest as she wanted me to, word for word. "A dog, Dorlesky says, don't have to be hung if it breaks the laws it is not allowed any hand in making. A dog don't have to pay taxes on its bone to a Government that withholds every right of citizenship from it. "A dog hain't called undogly if it is industrious, and hunts quietly round for its bone to the best of its ability, and wants to get its share of the crumbs that fall from that table that bills are laid on. " A dog hain't preached to about its duty to keep home sweet and sacred, and then see that home turned into a place of torment under laws that these very preachers have made legal and respectable. 1 i . i : ii r, , (; ■ i> ■ » 1 : 1 lit: p I 1 % 216 SWEET CICELY. "A (log don't Lave to see its property taxed to advance laws tliat it believes ruinous, and that breaks its own heart and the licarts of other dear dogs. "A dog don't have to listen to soul-sickening speeches from them that deny it freedt)ni and justice — about its bein' a dam6sk rose, and a seraphine, when it knows it liain't : it knows, if it knows any thing, that it is a dog. "You see, Dorlesky has been kinder embittered by her trials that politics, corrupt legislation, has brought right onto her. She didn't want nothin' to do with 'em ; but they come right onto her unexi)ected and unbeknown, and she feels jest so. She feels she must do every thing she can to alter matters, bne wants to help make the laws that have such a overpowerin' influence over her, herself. She believes from her soul that they can't be much worse than they be now, and may be a little better." " Ah ! if Dorlesky wishes to influence political affairs, let her influence her children, — her boys, — and they will carry her benign and noble influence forward into the centuries." " But the law has took her boy, her little boy and girl, away from her. Through the influence of the Whisky Ring, of which her husband was a shinin' member, he got possession of her boy. And so, the law has made it per- fectly impossible for her to mould it indirectly through him. What Dorlesky does, she must do herself." " Ah ! A sad thing for Dorlesky. I trust that you have no grievance of the kind, I trust that your estimable husband is — as it were, estimable." " Yes, Josiah Allen is a good man. As good as men SWEET CICELY. 217 can be. You know, men or winnnen either can't he only jest iihout so good anyway. But he is my choice, and he don't drink a (h'op." "Pardon me, madam; but if you are happy, as you say, in your marriage rehitions, and your husband is a temperate, good num, why do you feel so upon this sub- ject?" " Why, good land I if you understand the nature of a woman, you W(mld know that my love for him, my happi- ness, the content and safety I feel jdjout him, and our boy, makes me realize the sutt'erin's of Dorlesky in havin' her husband and boy lost to her , makes me realize the de[)th of a wive's, of a mother's, agony, when she sees the one she loves goin' down, goin' down so low that she can't reach him ; makes me feel how she must yearn to help him in some safe, sure way. " High trees cast long shadows. The happier and more blessed a woman's life is, the more does she feel f(»r them who are less blessed than she. Highest love goes lowest, if need be. Witness the love that left Heaven, and de- scended onto the earth, and into it, that He might lift up the lowly. "The pityin' words of Him who went about pleasin' not himself, hants me, and inspires me. I am sorry for Dorlesky, sorry for the hull wimmen race of the nation — and for the men too. Lots of 'em are good creeters — better than wimmen, some on 'em. They want to do jest about right, but don't exactly see the way to do it. In the old slavery times, some of the masters was more to be pitied than the slaves. They could s^je the injustice, feel the wrong, they was doin'; but old chains of custom • ( 218 SWEET CICELY. bound 'em, social customs and idees had hardened into habits of thought. " They realized the size and heft of the evil, but didn't know how to grapple with it, and throw it. "So now, many men see the great evils of this time, want to help it, but don't know the best way to lay holt of it. "Life is a curious conundrum anyway, and hard to guess. But we can try to get the right answer to it as fur as we can. Dorleskv feels that one of the answers to the conundrum is in gettin' her lights. She feels jest so. "I myself have got all the rights I need, or want, as fur as my own happiness is concerned. My home is my castle (a story and a half wooden one, but dear). " My towers elevate me, the companionship of my friends give social hap[)iness, our children are prosperous and happy. We have property enough, and m "'^. than enough, for all the comforts of life. And, above all other things, my Josiah is my love and my theme." "Ah! yes!" says he. "Love is a woman's empire, and in that she should find her full content — her entire happiness and thought. A womanly woman will not look outside of that lovely and safe and beautious em- pire. Says I firmly, " If she hain't a idiot, she can't help it. Love is the most beautiful thing on earth, the most holy, the most satisfyin'. But vvhich would you like best — I do not ask you as a politician, but as a human bein' — which would you like best, the love of a strong, earnest, tender nature — for in man or woman, ' the strongest are the tenderest, the loving are the daring ' — which would SWEET CICELY. 219 you like best, the love and respect of such a nature, full of wit, of tenderness, of infinite variety, or the love of a fool? " A fool's love is wearin' : it is insipid at the best, and it turns to viniger. Why ! sweetened water must turn to viniger : it is its nater. And, if a woman is bright and true-hearted, she can't help seein' through a injustice. She may be happy in her own home. Domestic affection, social enjoyments, the delights of a cultured home and society, and the companionship of the man she loves, and who loves her, will, if she is a true woman, satisfy fully her own personal needs and desires ; and she would far rather, for her own selfish happiness, rest quietly in that love — that most blessed home. " But the bright, quick intellect that delights you, can't help seeing through an injustice, can't help seeing through shams of all kinds — sham sentiment, sham compliments, sham justice. " The tender, lovin' nature that blesses you^ life, can't help feelin' pity for those less blessed than herself. She looks down through the love-guarded lattice of her home, — from which your care would fain bar out all sights of woe and squalor, — she looks down, and sees the weary toilers below, the hopeless, the wretched; she sees the steep hills they have to climb, carryin' their crosses ; she sees 'em go down into the mire, dragged there by the love that should lift 'em up. " She would not be the woman you love, if she could rebi,rain her hand from liftin' up the fallen, wipin' tears from weepin' eyes, speakin' brave words for them who can't speak for themselves. * i ,:M' u r in: , It i.fe" i ■'I.,:? I.} ! I !■ ,1 si 220 SWEET CICELY. "The very strength of lier aifection that would hold you up, if you were in trouble or disgrace, yearns to help all sorrowin' hearts. " Down in your heart, you can't help admirin' her for this : we can't help respectin' the one who advocates the right, the true, even if they are our conquerors. " Wimnien hain't angels : now, to be candid, you know they hain't. They hain't bett'ir than men. Men are con- siderable likely ; and it see^ns curious to me, that they she. Id act so in this one thing. For men ort to be more honest and open than wimmen. They hain't had to cajole and wheedle, nnd spile their natures, through little trick- eries and deceits, and indirect ways, that wimmen has. ' "Why, cramp a tree-limb, and see if it will grow as straight and vigorous as it would in full freedom and sunshine. " Men ort to be nobler than wimmen, sincerer, braver. And they ort to be ashamed of this one trick of theirn ; for they know they hain't honest in it, they hain't generous. " Give wimmen 2 or 3 generations of moral freedom, and see if men will laugh at 'em for their little deceits and affectations. "No: men will be gentler, and wimmen nobler; and they will both come nearer bein' angels, though most probable they won't be angels : they won't be any too good then, I hain't a mite afraid of it." He kinder sithed; and that sithe sort o' brought me down onto my feet agin (as it were), and a sense of my duty : and I spoke out agin, — " Can you, and will you, do Dorlesky's errents ? " Wall, he said, "as far as giving Dorlesky her rights SWEET CICELY. 221 ^^-^ a.i>^# THE WEARY TOILERS OF LIFB. f : !■ 'T tl I 4 L:ll I!!' i 222 SWEET CICELY. was concerned, he felt that natural human instinct was against the change." He said, "in savage races, who knew nothing of civilization, male force and strength always ruled." Says I, " History can't be disputed ; and history tells of savage races where the wimmen always rule, though I don't think they ort to," says I : " ability and goodness ort to rule." " Nature is against it," says he. Says I firmly, " Female bees, and lots of other insects, and animals, always have a female for queen and ruler. Tlicy rule blindly and entirely, right on through the cen- turies. But we are more enlightened, and should not en- courage it. In my opinion, a male bee has jest as good a right to be monarch as his female companion has. That is," says I reasonably, "if he knows as much, and is as good a calculator as she is. I love justice, I almost wor- sliip it." Agin he sithed; and says he, "Modern history don't seem to encourage the skeme." But his axent was weak, weak as a cat. He knew better. Says I, " We won't argue long on that point, for I could overwhelm you if I approved of overwhelmin'. But I merely ask you to cast your right eye over into England, and then beyond it into France. Men have ruled exclu- sively in France for the last 40 or 50 years, and a woman in England : which realm has been the most peaceful and prosperous ? " He sithed twice. And he bowed his head upon his bieast, in a sad, almost meachin' way. I nearly pitied SWEET CICELY. 223 him, disagreable as he wuz. When all of a sudden he brightened up ; and says he, — " You seem to place a great deal of dependence on tlie Bible. The Bible is aginst the idee. The Bible teaches man's supremacy, man's absolute power and might and authority." " Why, how you talk ! " says I. " Why, in the very first chapter, the Bible tells how man was jest turned right round by a woman. It .caches how she not only turned man right round to do as she wanted him to, but turned the hull world over. "That hain't nothin' I approve of: I don't speak of it because I like the idee. That wuzn't done in a open, honorable manner, as I believe things should be done. No: Eve ruled by indirect influence, — the 'gently influ- encing men' way, that politicians are so fond of. And she jest brought ruin and destruction onto the hull world by it. " A few years later, after men and wimmen grew wiser, when we hear of wimmen ruling Israel openly and hon- estly, like Miriam, Deborah, and other likely old 4 mothers, why, things went on better. They didn't act meachin', and tempt, and act indirect, I'll bet, or I wouldn't be afraid to bet, if I approved of bettin'." He sithed powerful, and sot round oneasy in his chair. And says he, " I thought wimmen was taught by the Bible to serve, and love their homes." " So they be. And every true woman loves to serve. Home is my supreme happiness and delight, and my best happiness is found in servin' them I love. But I must tell the truth, in the house or outdoors." I r ' ? 'V ' » .■ m i ii ■ \t^n I ;r ^ J PTTT F-f f »l 224 SWEET CICELY. "Wall," says he faintly, "the Old Testament may teach that wmimen has some strenth and power ; but in the New Testament, you will find that in every great undertakin' and plan, men have been chosen by God to carry it through." " Why-ee ! " says I. " How you talk ! " says I. " Have you ever read the Bible ? " He said "He had his grandmother owned one. And he had seen it in early youth." And then he went on, sort o' apologizin', " He had always meant to read it through. But he had entered political life at an early age, and he believed he had never read any more of it, only portions of Gulliver's Travels. He believed," lie said, "he had read as far as Lillipu- tions." Says T, " That hain't in the Bible, — you mean Galla- tians." " Wall," he said, " that might be it. It was some man, he knew, and he had always heard and believed that man was the only worker God had chosen." "Why," says I, "the one great theme of the New Testament, — the redemption of the world through the birth of the Christ, — no man had any thing to do with that whatever. Our divine Lord was born of God and woman. "Heavenly plan of redemption for fallen humanity. God Himself called women into that work, — the divine work of helpin' a world. " God called her. Mary had no dream of publicity, no desire for a world's work of sufferin' and renunciation. The soft airs of Gallilee wrapped her about in its sweet SW.TET CICELY. 225 content, as she dreamed her quiet dreams in maiden peace, dreamed, perhaps, of domestic love and quiet and happiness. " From that sweetest silence, the restful peace f)f lia})py, innocent girlhood, God called her to her divine work of helpin' to redeem a world from sin. " And did not this woman's love, and willin' obedience, and sufferin', and the shame of the world, set her apart, babtize her for this work of liftin' up the fallen, helpin' the weak ? " Is it not a part of woman's life that she gave at the birth and the crucifixion ? — her faith, her hope, her suf- ferin', her glow of divine pity and joyful martyrdom. These, mingled with the divine, the pure heavenly, have they not for 1800 years been blessin' the world? The God in Christ would awe us too much : we would shield our faces from the too blindin' glare of the pure God-like. But the tender Christ, who wept over a sinful city, and the grave of His friend, who stopped dyin' upon the cros' , to comfort his mother's heart, provide for her future — it is this element in our Lord's nature that makes us dure to approach Him, dare to kneel at His feet. "And since woman wus so blessed as to be counted worthy to be co-worker with God in the begin nin' of a world's redemption ; since He called her from the quiet obscurity of womanly rest and peace, into the blessed mar- tyrdom of renunciation and toil and sufferin', all to help a world that cared nothing for her, that cried out shame upon her, — will He not help her to carry on the work that she helped commence ? Will He not approve of her continuin' in it? Will He not protect her in it? , I i I 'k v .1 ' i' ' L .■ i ■ i" , ■ > : ;■ H^ f If } itfs 11 - Ws ' W 1 1 I I) •f !1 ii ! .IL i 226 SWEET CICEL' "Yes: she cannot be harmed, since His care is over her ; and the cause she loves, the cause of helpin' men and wimmen, is God's cause too, and God will take care of His own. Herods full of greed, and frightened selfishness, may try to break her heart, by efforts to kill the child she loves ; but slie will hold it so close to her bosom, that he can't destroy it. And the light of the divine will go berore her, showin' the way she must go, over the desert, maybe ; but she shall bear it into safety." "You spoke of Herod," says lie dreamily. "The name sounds familiar to me : was not Mr. Herod once in the United-States Congress ? " " No," says I. " He died some years ago. But he has relatives there now, I think, judging from recent laws. You ask who Herod was ; and, as it all seems to be a new story to you, I will tell yo i. That when the Saviour of the world was born in Bethlehem, and a woman was tryin' to save His life, a man by the name of Herod was tryin' his best, out of selfishness, and love of gain, to mur- der him." " Ah ! that was not right in Herod." " No," says I. " It hain't been called so. And what wuzn't right In him, hain't right in his relations, who are tryin' to dc ).he same thing to-day. But," says I reason- ably, "because Herod was so mean, it hain't no sign that all men was mean. Joseph, now, was likely as he could be." " Joseph," says he pensively. " Do you allude to our senator from Connecticut, — Joseph R. Hawley ? " " No, no," says I. " He is likely, as likely can be, and is always on the right side of questions — middlin' hand- SWEET CICELY. 227 some too. But I am talkin' Bible — I am talkin' about Joseph, jest plain Joseph, and nothin' else." " Ah ! I see I am not fully familiar with that work. Being so engrossed in politics, and political literature, I don't get any time to devote to less impor- tant publications." Says I candidly, " I knew you hadn't read it, I knew it the min- ute you mentioned the Book of Lilliputions. But, as I was a say in', Joseph was a likely man. He did the very best he could with what he had to do with. He had the strength to lead the way, to overcome obsticles, to keep dan- gers from Mary, to pro- tect her tenderer form with the mantilly of his generous devotion. ''''But she carried the child on her bosom. Pondering high things in her heart that Joseph had never dreamed of. That is what is wanted now, and in the future. The man and the woman walking side by side. He, a little ahead mebby, to keep off dangers by his greater strength and courage. She, a carryin' the infant BEAKING THE UABY I'EACE. i ■ 1 Hi' ! 1 n: ^ '\ ', i. 228 SWEET CICELY. I • I ■ I f II Christ of love, bearin' the baby Peace in her bosom, carry- ing it into safety from them that seek to murder it. " And, as I said before, if God called woman into this work. He will enable her to carry it through. He will protect her from her own weaknesses, and from the mis- apprehensions and hard judgments and injustices of a gain-saying world. " Yes, the star of hope is rising in the sky, brighter and brighter ; and the wise men are even now coming from afar over the desert, seeking diligently where this re- deemer is to be found." He sot demute. He did not frame a reply : he had no frame, and I knew it. Silence rained for some time ; and finally I spoke out solemnly through the rain, — " Will you do Dorlesky's errents ? Will you give her her rights ? And will you break the Whisky Ring ? " He said he would love to do Dorlesky's errents. He said I had convinced him that it would be just and right to do 'em, but the Constitution of the United States stood up firm against 'em. As the laws of the United State wuz, he could not make any move towards doin' either of the errents. Says I, " Can't the laws be changed ? " " Be changed ? Change the laws of the United States? Tamper with the glorious Constitution that our 4 fathers left us — an immortal, sacred legacy ? " He jumped right up on his feet, in his surprise, and kinder shook, as if he was skairt most to death, and trem- blin' with borrow. He did it to skair me, I knew ; and I wuz most skaird, I confess, he acted so horrowfied. But I knew I meant well towards the Constitution, and our ; ( >■ SWEET CICELY. 229 old 4 fathers ; and my principles stiddied me, and held me middlin' firm and serene. And when he asked me agin in tones full of awe and horrow, — "Can it be that I heard my ear aright? or did you speak of changing the unalterable laws of the United States — tampering with the Constitution ? " Says I, " Yes, that is what I said." Oh, how his body kinder shook, and how sort o' wild he looked out of his eyes at me ! Says I, " Hain't they never been changed?" He dropped that skairful look in a minute, and put on a firm, judicial one. He gin up ; he could not skair me to death : and says he, — " Oh, yes ! they have been changed in cases of neces- sity." Says I, " For instance, durin' the late war, it was changed to make Northern men cheap blood-hounds and hunters." " Yes," he said. " It seemed to be a case of necessity and econimy." "I know it," says I. "Men was cheaper than any other breed of blood-hounds the planters had employed to hunt men and winimen with, and more faithful." " Yes," he said. " It was doubtless a case of clear econimy." And says I, "The laws have beer changed to benifit whisky-dealers." " Wall, yes," he said. " It had been changed to enable whisky-dealers to utelize the surplufus liquor they im- port." Says he, gettin' kinder animated, for he was on a con- genial theme, — m 230 SWEET CICELY. "Nobody, the best calculators in driiiikards, can't ex- actly calculate on how much whisky will be drunk in a year ; and so, ruther than have the whisky-dealers suftbr loss, the laws had to be changed. "And then," says he, growin' still more candid in his A CASE OF NKCE88ITY. excitement, "we are makin' a. powerful effort to change the laws now, so as to take the tax off of whisky, so it can be sold cheaper, and be obtained in greater quantities by the masses. Any such great laws for the benifit of the nation, of course, would justify a change in the Constitu- tion and the laws ; but for any frivolous cause, any trivial SWEET CICELV. 281 catiae, niadam, we male custodians of the sacred Constitu- tion would stand as walls of iron before it, guarding it from any shadow of change. Faithful we will be, faithful unto death." Says I, "As it has been changed, it can be again. And you jest said I had convinced you that Dorlesky's errents wus errents of truth and justice, and you would love to ilo 'em." "Well, yes, yes — I would love to — as it were — But really, my dear madam, much as I would like to oblige you, I have not the time to devote to it. We senators and Congressmen are so driven, and hard-worked, that really we have no time to devote to the cause of Right and Justice. I don't think you realize the constant press- ure of hard work, that is ageing us, and wearing us out, before our day. " As I said, we have to watch the liquor-interest con- stantly, to see that the liquor-dealers suffer no loss — we have to do that. And then, we have to look sharp if we cut down the money for the Indian schools." Says I, in a sarcastick tone, " I s'pose you worked hard for that." " Yes," says he, in a sort of a proud tone. " We did, but we men don't begrudge labor if we can advance measures of economy. You see, it was taking sights of money just to Christianize and civilize Injuns — savages. Why, the idea was worse than useless, it wus perfectly ruin- ous to the Indian agents. For if, through those schools, the Indians had got to be self-supporting and intelligent and Christians, why, the agents couldn't buy their wives and daughters for a yard of calico, or get them drunk, and 4i <: ■[■■ ii ■■ • . ) ip [)i 232 SWEET CICELY. buy a horse for a glass bead, and a farm for a pocket lookin'-glass. Well, thank fortune, we carried that im- portant measure through ; we voted strong ; we cut down the money anyway. And there is one revenue that is still accruing to the Government — or, as it were, the servants of Government, the agents. You see," says he, " don't you, just how important the subjects are, that are wearing down the Congressional and senatorial mind?" "Yes," says I sadly, "I see a good deal more than I want to." " Yes, you see how hard-worked we are. With all the care of the North on our minds, we have to clean out all the creeks in the South, so the planters can have smooth sailing. But we think," says he dreamily, " we think we have saved money enough out of the Indian schools, to clean out most of their creeks, and perhaps have a little left for a few New- York aldermen, to rewprd them for their arduous duties in drinking and voting for their constituents. "Then, there is the Mormons: we have to make sooth- ing laws to sooth them. "Then, there are the Chinese. When we send them back into heathendom, we ought to send in the ship with them, some appropriate biblical texts, and some mottoes emblematical of our national eagle protecting and clawing the different nations. " And when we send the Irish paupers back into pov- erty and ignorance, we ought to send in the same ship, some resolutions condemning England for her treatment of Ireland." SWEET CICELY. 233 ■'I Says I, " Most probable the Goddess of Liberty Enlight- enin' the World, in New-York Harbor, will hold her torch up high, to light such ships on their way." And he said, " Yes, he thought so." Says he, " There is very important laws up before the House, now, about hens' eggs — counting them." And says he, "Taking it with all those I have spoke of and other Lindred laws, and the constant strain on our minds in trj-ing to pass laws to increase our own salaries, you can see just how cramped we are for time. And though we would love to pass some laws of Truth and Righteousness, — we fairly ache to, — yet, not having the requisite time, we are ob- liged to lay 'em on the table, or under it." " Wall," says I, " I guess I might jest a well be a goin'." I bid him a cool good-bye, and started for the door. I was discouraged ; but he says as I went out, — " Mebby William Wallace will do the errent for you." Says I coldly, — "William Wallace is dead, and you know it." And says I with a real lot of dignity, " You needn't try to impose on me, or Dorlesky's errent, by tryin' to send me round amongst them old Scottish chiefs. I respect them old chiefs, and always did; and I don't relish any light talk about 'em." Says he, " This is another William Wallace ; and very probable he can do the errent." " Wall," says I, " I will send the errent to him by Bub Smith ; for I am wore out." As I wended my way out of Mr. Blains'es, I met the hired man. Bub Smith's friend ; and he asked me, — "If I didu't want to visit the Capitol?" ! I ! !■ m f % 234 SWEET CICELY. i i! Says T, "Where the laws of the United States are made?" " Yes," says he. And I told him " that I was very weary, but I would fain behold it." And he said he was going right by there on business, and he would be glad to show it to me. So we walked along in that direction. It seems that Bub Smith saved the life of his little sister — jumped oft' into the water when she was most droAvned, and dragged her out. And from that time the two fami- lies have thought the world of each other. That is what made him so awful good to me. Wall, I found the Capitol was a sight to behold ! Why, it beat any buildin' in Jonesville, or Loontown, or Spoon Settlement in beauty and size and grandeur. There hain't one that can come nigh it. Why, take all the meetin'- housen of these various places, and put 'em all together, and put several other meetin'-housen on top of 'em, and they wouldn't begin to show off with it. And, oh I my land ! io stand in the hall below, and look up — and up — and up — and see all the colors of the rain- bow, and see what kinder curious and strange pictures there wuz way up there in the sky above me (as it were). Why, it seemed curiouser than any Northern lights I ever see in my life, and they stream up dretful curious some- times. And as I walked through the various lofty and magnifi- cent halls, and realized the size and majestic proportions of the buildin', I wondered to myself that a small law, a little, unjust law, could ever be passed in such a magnifi- cent place. SWEET CICELY. ^35 Says I to myself, "It can't be the fault of the place, anyway. They have got a chance for their souls to soar 8AMANTHA VIEWING THE CAPITOL. if they want to." Thinks'es I, here is room and to spare, to pass by laws big as elephants and camels. And I won- ; III TTT i Kr lllf r . ■ 236 SWEET CICELY. dered to myself that they should ever try to pass laws and resolutions as small as iiiuskeeters and nats. Thinks'es I, I wonder them little laws doji't get to strollin' round and get lost in them magnificent corriders. But I consoled myself a thinkin' that it wouldn't be no great loss ii' they did. But right here, as I was a thinkin' on these deep and lofty subjects, the hired man spoke up ; and says he, — "You look fatigued, mom." (Soarin' even to yourself, is tuckerin'.) " You look very fatigued : won't you take something ? " I looked at him with a curious, silent sort of a look ; for 1 didn't know what he meant. Agin he looked close at me, and sort o' pityin'; and says he, "You look tired out, mom. Won't you take something ? " Says I, "What?" Says he, "Let me treat you to something: what will you take, mom ? " Wall, I thought he was actin' dretful liberal; but I knew they had strange ways i. 3re in Washington, anyway. And I didn't know but it was their way to make some presents to every woman who come there : and I didn't want to be odd, and act awkward, and out of style ; so I says, — " I don't want to take any thing, and I don't see any reason why you should insist on it. But, if I have got to take somethin', I had jest as lives have a few yards of fac- tory-cloth as any thing." I thought, if he was determined to treat me, to show his good feelin's towards me, I would get somethin' useful, ■Tiairnari jr i . SWEET CICELY. 249 8AMANTHA AND SALLY IN THE I'ATENT OFFICE. ^i I:-;! 4l : I m \\ :r I I I, I ■ i 260 SWEET CICELY. >'\ ifi! And he asked me " Who Josiah was ? " and I told him. And I told him that " Josiah's farm run along one side of a pond ; and if one of his sheep got over on tlie other side, it was sheep jest the same, and it was hisen jest the same : lie didn't lose the right to it, because it happened to cross the pond." Says he, "There W(uM be better laws regarding copy- right, if it wuzn't for sellishness on botli sides of the pond." '•Wall," says I, "selfishness don't pay in the long-run." And then, thinkin' mebby if I made myself agreable and entertainin', he would change the law quicker, I made a effort, and related a little interestin' incident that I had seen take place jest before my former departure from Jonesville, on a tower. " No, selfishness don't pay. I have seen it tried, and I know. Now, Bildad Henzy married a wife on a speculation. She was a one-legged woman. He was attached at the time to a woman with the usual number of feet ; but he was so close a calculator, that he thought it would be money in his pocket to marry this one, for he wouldn't have to buy but one shoe and stockin'. But she had to jump round on that one foot, and step heavy ; so she wore out more shoes than she would if she was two-footed." Says I, " Selfishness don't pay in private life or in politics." And he said " He thought jest so," and he jest about the same as pri^mised me he would change the law. I hope he will. It makes me feel so strange every time I think ont, as strange as strange can be. Why, I told Sally after we went out, and I spoke about h:J . ym \ SWEET CICELY. 251 "the man lookin' human, and jest like anybody else ; " and she said " it was a clerk ; " and I said " I knew better, I knew it was the m...n himself." And says I agin, " It beats all, how anybody in human shape can make such a law as that copyright law." And she said " that was so." But I knew by her mean, that she didn't understand a thing about it ; and I knew it would make me so sort o' light-headed and vacant if I went to explain it to her, that I never said a word, and fell in at once with her proposal that we should go end >3ee the Treasury, and the Corcoran Art Gallery, and the Smithsonian Institute, one at a time. And I found the Treasury wuz a sight to behold. Such sights and sights of money they are makin' there, and a countin'. Why, I s'pose they make more money there in a week, than Josiah and I spend in a year. I s'pose most probable they made it a little faster, and more of it, on account of my bein' there. But they have sights and sights of it. They are dretful well off. I asked Sally, and I spoke out kinder loud too, — I hain't one of the underhanded kind, — I asked her, " If she s'posed they'd let us take hold and make a little money for ourselves, they seemed to be so runnin' over with it, there." And she said, "No, private citizens couldn't do that." Says I, "Who can?" She kinder whispered back in a skairt way, sunthin' about " speculators and legislators and rings, and etcetery." But I answered right out loud, — I hain't one to go whisperin' round, — and says I, — " I'll bet if Uncle Sam himself was here, and knew the i )• ( ' 252 SWEET CICELY. ! i I feeliii's I had for him, he'd hand out a few dollars of his own accord for me to get suiithiii' to remember him by. Ilowsumever, I don't need nor want any of his money. I hain't beholden to him nor any man. I have got over fourteen dollars by me, at tliis present time, egg-money." But it was a sight to behold, to see 'em make it. And then, as we stood out on the sidewalk agin, the Smitlisonian Institute passed through my mind ; and then the Corcoran Art Gallery passed through it, and several other big, noble buildin's. But I let 'em pass ; and I says to Sally, — "Let us go at once and see the man that makes the public schools." Says I, " There is a man that I honor, and almost love." And she said she didn't know who it wuz. But I think it was the lamb that she had in a bakin', that drew her back towards home. She owned up that her hired girl didn't baste it enougli. And she seemed oneasy. But I stood firm, and says, " I shall see that man, lamb or no lamb." And then Sally give in. And she found him easy enough. She knew all the time, it was the sheep that hampered her. And, oh! I s'pose it was a sight to be remembered, to see my talk to that man. I s'pose, if it had been printed, it would have made a beautiful track — and lengthy. Why, he looked fairly exhausted and cross before I got half through, I talked so smart (eloquence is tuckerin'). I told him how our public schools was the hope of the iwr SWEET CICELY. 253 nation. How they neutralized to a certain extent the other schools the nation allowed to the public, — the grog-shops, and other licensed places of ruin. I told him how pretty it looked to me to see Civilization a marchin' along from the Atlantic towards the Pacific, with a spellin'-book in one hand, and in the other the rosy, which she was a plantin' in place of the briars and brambles. And I told him how highly I approved of compulsory education. " Why," says I, " if anybody is a drowndin', you don't ask their consent to be drawed out of the water, you jest jump in, and yank 'em out. And when you see poor little ones, a sinkin' down in the deep waters of ignorance and brutality, why, jest let Uncle Sam reach right down, and draw 'em out." Says 1, " I'll bet that is why he is pictered as havin' such long arms for, and long legs too, — so he can wade in if the water is deep, and they are too fur from the shore for his arms to reach." And says I, ••' In the case of the little Indian, and other colored children, he'll need the legs of a stork, the water is so deep round 'em. But he'll reach 'em. Uncle Sam will. He'll lift 'em right up in his long arms, and set 'em safe on the pleasant shore. You'll see that he will. Uncle Sam is a man of a thousand." Says I, " How much it wus like him, to pass that law for children to be learnt jest what whisky is, and what it will do. Why," says I, "in that very law Christianity has took a longer stride than she could take by millions of sermons, all divided off into tenthlies and twentiethlies." Why, I s'pose I talked perfectly beautiful to that man : I s'pose so. )■ C:\ i : I' \ 254 SWEET CICELY. And if he hadn't had a sudden engagement to go out, I should have talked longer. But I see his engagement wus a wearin' on him. His eyes looked fairly wild. I only give a bald idee of what I said. I have only give the heads of my discussion to him, jest the bald heads. Wall, after we left there, I told Sally I felt as if I must go and see the Peace Commission. I felt as if I must make some arrangements with 'em to not have any more wars. As I told Sally, " We might jest as well call our- selves Injuns and savages at once, if we had to keep up this most savage and brutal trait of theirn." Says I firmly, " I must, before I go back to Jonesville, tend to it." Says I, ''I didn't come here for fashion, or dry-goods; though I s'pose lots of both of 'em are to be got here." Says I, " I niiiy tend to one or two fashionable parties, o; levys as I s'pose they call 'em here. I may go to 'em ruther than hurt the feelin's of the upper 10. I want to do right : I don't want to hurt the feelin's of them 10. They have hearts, and they are sensitive. I don't think I have ever took to them 10, as much as I have to some others ; but I wish 'em well. " And I s'pose you see as grand and curious people to their parties here, as you can see together in any other place on the globe. "I s'pose it is a sight to behold, to see 'em together. To see them, as the poet says, ' To the manner born,' and them that wasn't born in the same manor, but tryin' to act as if they was. Wealth and display, natural courtesy and refinement, walkin' side by side with pretentius vul- garity, and mebby poverty bringin' up the rear. Genius and folly, honesty and affectation, gentleness and sweet- V' BWEET CICELY. 255 ness, and brazen impudence, and hatred and malice, and envy and uncharitableness. All languages and peoples under the sun, and differing more than stars ever did, one from another. "And what makts it more curious and mysterius is, the 8AMANTHA AT THE PRESIDENT'S RECEPTION. way they dress, some on 'em. Why, they say — it has come right straight to me by them that know — that the ladies wear what they call full dress ; and the strange and f: 'Al)X .M f' Sy 256 SWEET CICELY. mysterius part of it is, that the fuller the dress is, the less they have on *em. " Tills is a deep subject, and queer ; and I don't s'pose you will take my word for it, and I don't want you to. Ikit I have been told so. " Why, I s'pose them upper 10 have their hands full, their 20 hands completely full. I fairly pity 'em — the hull 10 of 'em. They want me, and they need me, I s'pose, and I must tend to some of 'em. " And then,'' says I, " I did calculate to pay some atten- tion to store-clothes. I did want to get me a new calico dress, — London brown with a set flower on it. But I can do without that dress, and the upper 10 can do without me, better than the Nation can do without Peace." I felt as if I must tend to it : I fairly hankered to do away with war, immejiately and to once. But I knew right was right, and I felt that Sally ort to be let to tend to her lamb ; so Sally and I sallied homewards. But the hired girl had tended to it well. It wus good — very good. ^ CHAPTER IX. Wall, the next morniii' Cicely wus better, and we sot sail for Mount Vernon. It was about ten o'clock a.m. when I, accompanied by Cicely and the boy, sot sail from Washington, D.C., to perform about the ostensible reason of my tower, — to weep on the tomb of the noble (x. Washington. My intentions had been and wuz, to weep for him on my tower. I had come prepared. 2 linen handkercliicfs and a large cotton one reposed in the pocket of my polenay, and I had on my new waterproof. I nevei* do things by the is. It was a beautiful seen, as we floated down the still river, to look back and see the Capitol risin' white and fair like a dream, the glitterin' snow of the monument, and the green heights, all bathed in the glory of that per- fect May mornin'. It wuz a fair seen. Happy groups of people sot on the peaceful decks, — stiitely gentlemen, handsome ladies, and pretty children. And in one corner, off kinder by themselves, sot that band of dusky singers, whose songs have delighted the world. Modest, good-lookin' dark girls, manly, honest- lookin' dark boys. 207 i| l^¥ li 1 258 SWEET CICELY. ' 'k Only a few short years ago tliis black people was drove about like dumb cattle, — bought and sold, hunted by blood-hounds; the wimmen hunted to infamy and ruin, the men to torture and to death. The wimmen denied the first right of womanhood, to keep themselves pure. The men denied the first right of manhood, to protect GOING TO MOUNT VERNON. the ones they loved. Deprived legally of purity and honor, and all the rights of commonest humanity — worn with unpaid toil, beaten, whipped, tortured, dispised and rejected of men. Now, a few short years have passed over this dark race, and these children of slaves that I looked upon have been guests of the proudest and noblest in this and in foreign lands. Hands that hold the destinies of mighty empires have clasped theirs in frankest friendship, and crowned heads have bowed low before 'em to hide the tears their SWEET CICELY. 259 sweet voices have called forth. What feelin's I felt as I looked on 'em ! and my soul burned inside of me, almost to the extent of settin' my polenay on lire, a thinkin' of all this. And pretty soon, right when I was a reveryin' — right there, when we wuz a floatin' down the still waters, their voices riz up in one of their inspired songs. They sung about their " Hard Trials," and how the " Sweet Chariot swung low," and how they had " Been Redeemed." And I declare for't, as I listened to 'em, there wuzn't a dry eye in my head ; and I wet every one of them 3 handkerchiefs thcat I had calculated to mourn for G. Wash- ington on, wet as sop. But I didn't care. I knew that (leorge had ruther not be mourned for on dry handker- chiefs, than that I should stent myself in emotions in such a time as this. He loved Liberty himself, and fit for it. And anyway, I didn't sense what I was a doin', not a mite. I took out them handkerchiefs entirely unbe- known to me, and put 'em back unbeknown. The words of them songs hain't got hardly any sense, as we earthly bein's count sense ; there are scores of great singers, whose trained voices are a hundred-fold more melodious : but these simple strains move us, thrill us ; they jest get right inside of our hearts and souls, and take fuii possession of us. It seems as if nothin' human of so little importance could so move us. Is it God's voice that sjieaks to us through them? Is it His Spirit that lifts us up, sways us to and fro, that blows upon us, as we listen to their voices ? The Spirit that come down to cheer them broken hearts, lift them up in their captivity, does it now sway 11 ! : ^=^ u^ I : .' • L i I I 260 SWEET CICELY. and melt the hearts of their captors? We read of One who watches over His sorrowing, wronged people, givin' them " songs in the night." Anon, or nearly at that time, a silver bell struck out a sweet sort of a mournful note ; and we jest stood right ill towards the shore, and disembarked from the bark. We clomb the long hill, and stood on top, with powerful emotions (but little or no breath) ; stood before the iron bars that guarded the tomb of George Washington, and Martha his wife. I looked at the marble coffin that tried to hold George, and felt how vain it wu^ to think that any tomb could hold him. That peaceful, tree-covered hill couldn't hold his tomb. Why, it wuz lifted up in every land that loved freedom. The hull liberty-lovin' earth wuz his tomb and his monument. And that great river flowin' on and on at his feet — as long as that river rolls, George Washington shall float on it, he and his faithful Martha. It shall bear him to the sea and the ocian, and abroad to every land. Oh ! what feelin's I felt as I stood there a reveryin', my body still, but my mind proudly soarin' ! To think, he wuz our Washington, and that time couldn't kill him. For he shall walk through the long centuries to come. He shall bear to the high chamber of prince and ruler, memories that shall blossom into deeds, awaken souls, rouse powers that shall never die, that shall scatter bless- ings over lands afar, strike the fetters from slave and serf. The hands they folded over his peaceful breast so many years ago, are not lying there in that marble coffin : the ^:U SWEET CICELY. 261 calm blue eyes closed so many years ago. are still lookin' into souls. Those hands lift the low walls of the poor boy's chamber, as he reads of victory over tyranny, of con- querin' discouragement and defeat. i ! \ ,1.1 wm^: BEFOKE THE TOMU OF WASHINGTON. The low walls fade away; the du«ky rafters part to admit the infinite, infinite longin's to do and dare, infinite resolves to emulate those deeds of valor and heroism. How the calm blue eyes look down into the boy's impassioned isoul, how the shadowy liands beckon him upward, up the r 262 SWEET CICELY. m '^ :^ 5 \' Wi i! 11 'I rocky heights of noBle endeavor, noble deeds I How the inspiration of this life^ these deeds of might and valor, nerve the young heart for future strivings for freedom and justice and truth ! Is it not a blessed thing to thus live on forever in true, eager hearts, to nerve the hero's arm, to inspire deeds of courage and daring? The weary body may rest; but to do this, is surely not to die ; no, it is to live, to be immor- tal, to thus become the beating heart, the living, struggling, daring soul of the future. And right while I was thinkin' these thoughts, and lookiu' oft' over the still landscape, the peaceful waters, this band of dark singers stood with reverent faces and uncovered heads, and begun singin' one of their sweetest melodies, — " He rose, he rose, he rose from the dead." Oh ! as them inspired, hantin' notes rose through the soft, listenin' air, and hanted me, walked right round in- side my heart and soul, and inspired me — why ! how many emotions I did have, — more'n 85 a minute right along ! As I thought of how many times since the asscension of our Lord, tombs have opened, and the dead come forth alive ; how Faith and Justice will triumph in the end ; how you can't bury 'em deep enough, or roll a stun big enough and hard enough before the door, but what, in some calm mornin', the earliest watcher shall see a tall, fair angel standin' where the dead has lain, bearin' the message of the risen Lord, " He rose from the dead." I thought ho' jreorge W. and our other old 4 fathers SWEET CICELY. 263 thought in tlie long, toilsome, weary hours before the clawnin', that fair Freedom was dead ; but she rose, she rose. I thought how the dusky race whose sweet songs was a jloatin' round the grave of him who loved freedom, and gave his life for it ; I thought how, durin' the dreary time when they was captives in a strange land, chained, scourged, and tortured, how they thought, through this long, long night of years, that Justice was dead, and Mercy and Pity and Righteousness. But there come a glorious mornin' when fathers and mothers clasped their children in their arms, their own once more, in arms that was their own, to labor and pro- tect, and they sung together of Freedom and Right, how though they wuz buried deep, and the night wuz long, and the watchers by the tomb weary, weary unto death, yet they rose, they rose from the dead. And then I thought of the tombs that darken our land to-day, where the murdered, the legally murdered, lay buried. I thought of the gvaves more hopeless fur tjiau them that entomb the dead, — the graves where lay the livin' dead. Dead souls bound to still breathin' bodies, dead hopes, ambitions, dead dreams of usefulness and respectability, happiness, dead purity, faith, honor, dead, all dead, all bound to the still bi^oathin' body, by the fes- terin', putrid death-robes of helplessness and despair. Tliere they lie chained to their dark tombs by links slight at first, but twisted by the hard old fingers of blind habit, to chains of iron, chains linked about, and eatiu' into, not only the quiverin' flesh, but the frenzied brains, the hope- less hearts, the ruined souls. iti 'II m 2(14 SWKKT CICKLY i 1 Ilciivy, li()])oloss-l()()1dn' viuiUs lluiy an; indeed, wlioso air is ]Hitri(l with tlu^ siekeiiiir niiasnia of moral loaiiisoiiitiess and (les(H'se ; whose walls an; painted with hich'oiis pie- tui'es of iimnUM', raj)iiu!, lust, starvation, woe, and despair, eartldy and eternal ruin. Shapes of tla; dreadlul j>ast, the hopeless iuture, that tlu^se livin' dead stare upon with broodin' frenzy by night and by day. Oh the tond)S, the eountless, countless tond)S, where lie tlies(i br(!atlun' corpses! How mot hei's weep ov(!r tluMii I liow wives kneel, and beat their hearts out on the rocky barriers tiiat sejjarate them from their hearts' love;, their hearts' desire! How lit th; starvin', naked childniu cower in tlunr ghostly shaihtws through dark midnights! how fathers weep for tlu^ir children, dead to th(!m, dead to honor, to shame, to humanity! How the cries of the mourners ascend to the sweet heavens ! And less peaceful than the graves of the departed, these tombs themselves are full of the ho])eless (;ries of the entombed, praying for help, praying for some strong hand to reach down and lift them out of their reeking, polluted, living death. The wliole of our fair land is covered with jest such graves: its turf is tread down by the l"ooti)rints of the mourners who go about the streets. They pray, they weep: the night is long, is long. But the morning will dawn at last. And the women, — daughters, wives, mothers, — who kneel with clasped hands beside the tombs, heaviest-eyed, deepest mourners, because most helpless. Lift up your heavy eyes : the sun is even now rising, that shall gild the sky at last. The mornin' light is even now dawnin' in SWKKT f'K'KLY. 205 tlu3 oast. It hIisiII fall liisl upon your upliftcMl brow.s, your luaycrt'iil oy(!H. Most McsscmI of (Jod, IxiaiUHO you 1oV(mI most, sorrowed most. To you sliall it \n\ glv(!U to lu-liold first tlu! tall, fair au^cl of Ut'su reel ion and JicMhMiiption, slandin' at tlui grave's mouth. Into your hands shall he j)ut tlu; key to unlock the heavy doors, where your IovcmI lias lain. The dead shall rise. T('nii)eraiie(; and Justi(;(^ and liiberty shall rise;. They shall ^^o forth to hicss our fair land. And purified and enohlcd, it shall he; IIm; hest hcloved, the faiicst land of (iod htfuc^ath th(; sun. Refuge of the o[)pressed and tempted, ins[-iration of the ho[K;less, ]i<;ht of the W(»rld. And free mothers shall clasj) their free ehiidriMi to their hearts; and fathers and mothers and children shall join in oue heavenly strain, soug of freedom and of truth. And the nations shall listen to hear how "they rose, tlu^y rose, they rose from the dead." As the tones of the sweet hymn di(Ml on the soft air, and the blessed vision passed with it; when I come down onto my feet, — for truly, I had been lifted uj), and by the side of myself, — Cicely was standin' with her brown eyes loolvin' over the waters, holdin' the hand of the boy ; and I see every thing that the song did or could mean, in the depths of her dee[), projdietic eyes. Sad eyes, too, they was, and discouraged; for the morning wus fur away — and — and the boy wus pullin' at her hand, eager to get awfiy from where he wus. The boy led us ; and we follered him up the gradual hill to the old homestead of Washington, Mount Vern.'ii. Lookin' down from the broad, high porch, you can look ' ' t P I :i- if li 4 1 F9 V^ ^11 ri f.! I f 266 SWEET CICELY. directly down through tlie trees into the river. The water calm and sort o' golden, through the green of the trees, and every thing looked peaceful and serene. There are lots of interestin' things to be seen here, — the tombs of the rest of the Washington family; the key of the Bastile, covered with the blood and misery of a foreign land ; the tree that carries us back in memory to his grave, where he rests (juietly, who disturbed the sleep of empires and kingdoms ; the furniture of Washington and his family, — the chairs they s(^t in, the tables they sot at, and the rooms where they sot ; the hai'[)iscord, that Nelly Custis and jNIrs. G. Washington harpiscorded on. But she whose name wus once Smith longed to see somethin' else fur more. What wus it? It wus not the great drawin'-rooms, the guest-chambers, the halls, the grounds, the live-stock, nor the pictures, nor the flowers. No : it wus the old garret of the mansion, the low old garret, where she sot, our Lady Washington, in her widowed dignity, with no other fire only the light of deathless love that lights palace or hovel, — sot there in the window, because she could look out from it upon the tomb of her mighty dead. Sot lookin' out upon the river that wus sweepin' along under sun and moon, bearing on every wave and ripple the glory and beauty of his name. Bearing it away from her mebby, she would sometimes sadly think, as she thought of happy days gone by ; for though souls may soar, hearts will cling. And sometimes storms would vex the river's unquiet breast; and mebby SWEET CICELY. 267 •c i THE OLD HOME OF WASHINGTON. If 1^^^' ^ 1 i ■ ' 1 :' 1 [ hu 268 SWEET CICELY. the waves would whisper to her lovin' heart, " Never more, never more." As she sot there looking out, waiting for that other river, whose waves crept nearer and nearer to her feet, — that other river, on ^^hich her soul should sail away to meet her glorious dead; that river wnich whispers "For- ever, forever ; " that river which is never unquiet, and whose waves are murmuring of nothing less beautiful than of meeting, of love, and of lasting repose. m m '■u a fli 11 CHAPTER X. When we got back from Mount Vernon, and entered our boardin'-house, Cicely went right up to her room. But I, feelin' kinder beat out (eloquent emotions are very tuckeriii' on a tower), thought I would set down a few minutes in the parlor to rest, before I mounted up the stairs to my room. But truly, as it turned out, I had better have gone right up, breath or no breath. For, while I was a settin' there, a tall, sepulchral lookin' female, that I had notie.d at the breakfast-table, come up to me ; and says she, — " I beg your pardon, mom, but I believe you are the noble and eloquent Josiah Allen's wife, and I believe you are a stoppin' here." Says I calmly, " I hain't a stoppin' — I am stopped, as it were, for a few days." " Wall," says she, " a friend of mine is comin' to-night, to my room. No. 17, to give a private seansy. And know- in' you are a great case to investigate into truths, I tliought mebby you would love to come, and witness some of our glorious spirit manifestations." I thanked her for her kindness, but told her " I guessed 269 r '.'I •1 1 si ■ if- w ^xjj rr 270 SWEET CICELY. I wouldn't go. I didn't seem to be sufferin' for a seancy." " Oh ! " says she : " it is wonderful, wonderful to see. Why, we will tie the medium up, and he will on tie him- self." " Oh ! " says I. " I have seen that done, time and agin. I used to tie Thomas J. up when he was little, and naughty ; and he would, in spite of me, ontie himself, and get away." " Who is Thomas J. ? " says she. " Josiah's child by his first wife," says I. " Wall<" says she, " if we have a good circle, and the conditions are favorable, the spirits will materialize, — come before us with a body." " Oh ! " says I. " I have seen that. Thomas J. used to dress up as a ghost, and appear to us. But he didn't seem to think the conditions wus so favorable, and he didn't seem to appear so much, after his father ketched him at it, and give him a good whippin'." And says I firmly, " I guess that would be about the way with your ghosts." And after I had said it, the idee struck me as bein' sort o' pitiful, — to go to whippin' a ghost. But she didn't seem to notice my remark, for she seemed to be a gazin' upward in a sort of a muse ; and she says, — " Oh ! would you not like to talk with your departed kindred?" "Wall, yes," says I firmly, after a minute's thought. " I would like to." " Come to-night to our seansy, and we will call 'em, and you shall talk with 'em." " Wall," says I candidly, " to tell the truth, bein' only SWEET CICELY 271 wimmen present, I'll tell you, I have got to mend my pet- ticoat to-night. My errents have took me round to such a extent, that it has got all frayed out round the bottom, and I have got to mend the fray. But, if any of my kin- dred are there, you jest mention it to 'em that she that THOMAS JEFFERSON'S GHOST. wiiz Samantha Smith is stopped at No. 16, and, if perfectly convenient, would love to see 'em. I can explain it to 'em," says I, " bein' all in the family, why I couldn't leave my room." Says she, " You are makiii' fun : you don't believe they will be there, do you ? " ^ n it:M i m f ' r\ I L ill >% v^. .0^, \t>^.,A IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) V ^ /, O L

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