Samantha Among the Brethren, Complete

CHAPTER XXVI.

He wuz jest a-countin' out his money prior to puttin' it away in his tin box, and I laid the subject before him strong and eloquent, jest the wants and needs of the meetin' house, and jest how hard we female sisters wuz a-workin', and jest how much we needed some money to buy our ingregiencies with for the fair.

He set still, a-countin' out his money, but I know he heard me. There wuz four fifty dollar bills, a ten, and a five, and I felt that at the very least calculation he would hand me out the ten or the five, and mebby both on 'em.

But he laid 'em careful in the box, and then pulled out his old pocket-book out of his pocket, and handed me a ten cent piece.

I wuz mad. And I hain't a-goin' to deny that we had some words. Or at least I said some words to him, and gin him a middlin' clear idee of how I felt on the subject.

Why, the colt wuz more mine than his in the first place, and I didn't want a cent of money for myself, but only wanted it for the good of the Methodist meetin' house, which he ort to be full as interested in as I wuz.

Yes, I gin him a pretty lucid idee of what my feelin's wuz on the subject—and spozed mebby I had convinced him. I wuz a-standin' with my back to him, a-ironin' a shirt for him, when I finished up my piece of mind. And thought more'n as likely as not he'd break down and be repentent, and hand me out a ten dollar bill.

But no, he spoke out as pert and cheerful as anything and sez he:

“Samantha, I don't think it is necessary for Christians to give such a awful sight. Jest look at the widder's mit.”

I turned right round and looked at him, holdin' my flat-iron in my right hand, and sez I:

“What do you mean, Josiah Allen? What are you talkin' about?”

“Why the widder's mit that is mentioned in Scripter, and is talked about so much by Christians to this day. Most probable it wuz a odd one, I dare persume to say she had lost the mate to it. It specilly mentions that there wuzn't but one on 'em. And jest see how much that is talked over, and praised up clear down the ages, to this day. It couldn't have been worth more'n five cents, if it wuz worth that.”

“How do you spell mit, Josiah Allen?” sez I.

“Why m-i-t-e, mit.”

“I should think,” sez I, “that that spells mite.”

“Oh well, when you are a-readin' the Bible, all the best commentaters agree that you must use your own judgment. Mite! What sense is there in that? Widder's mite! There hain't any sense in it, not a mite.”

And Josiah kinder snickered here, as if he had made a dretful cute remark, bringin' the “mite” in in that way. But I didn't snicker, no, there wuzn't a shadow, or trace of anything to be heard in my linement, but solemn and bitter earnest. And I set the flat-iron down on the stove, solemn, and took up another, solemn, and went to ironin' on his shirt collar agin with solemnety and deep earnest. “No,” Josiah Allen continued, “there hain't no sense in that—but mit! there you have sense. All wimmen wear mits; they love 'em. She most probable had a good pair, and lost one on 'em, and then give the other to the church. I tell you it takes men to translate the Bible, they have such a realizin' sense of the weaknesses of wimmen, and how necessary it is to translate it in such a way as to show up them weaknesses, and quell her down, and make her know her place, make her know that man is her superior in every way, and it is her duty as well as privilege to look up to him.”

And Josiah Allen crossed his left leg over his right one, as haughty and over bearin' a-crossin' as I ever see in my life, and looked up haughtily at the stove-pipe hole in the ceilin', and resoomed,

“But, as I wuz sayin' about her mit, the widder's, you know. That is jest my idee of givin', equinomical, savin', jest as it should be.”

“Yes,” sez I, in a very dry axent, most as dry as my flat-iron, and that wuz fairly hissin' hot. “She most probable had some man to advise her, and to tell her what use the mit would be to support a big meetin' house.” Oh, how dry my axent wuz. It wuz the very dryest, and most irony one I keep by me—and I keep dretful ironikle ones to use in cases of necessity.

“Most probable,” sez Josiah, “most probable she did.” He thought I wuz praisin' men up, and he acted tickled most to death.

“Yes, some man without any doubt, advised her, told her that some other widder would lose one of hern, and give hers to the meetin' house, jest the mate to hern. That is the way I look at it,” sez he “and I mean to mention that view of mine on this subject the very next time they take up a subscription in the meetin' house and call on me.”

But I turned and faced him then with the hot flat-iron in my hand, and burnin' indignation in my eys, and sez I:

“If you mention that, Josiah Allen, in the meetin' house, or to any livin' soul on earth, I'll part with you.” And I would, if it wuz the last move I ever made.

But I gin up from that minute the idea of gettin' anything out of Josiah Allen for the fair. But I had some money of my own that I had got by sellin' three pounds of geese feathers and a bushel of dried apples, every feather picked by me, and every quarter of apple pared and peeled and strung and dried by me. It all come to upwerds of seven dollars, and I took every cent of it the next day out of my under bureau draw and carried it to the meetin' house and gin it to the treasurer, and told 'em, at the request of the hull on 'em, jest how I got the money.

And so the hull of the female sisters did, as they handed in their money, told jest how they come by it.

Sister Moss had seated three pairs of children's trouses for young Miss Gowdy, her children are very hard on their trouses (slidin' down the banesters and such). And young Miss Gowdy is onexperienced yet in mendin', so the patches won't show. And Sister Moss had got forty-seven cents for the job, and brung it all, every cent of it, with the exception of three cents she kep out to buy peppermint drops with. She has the colic fearful, and peppermint sometimes quells it.

Young Miss Gowdy wuz kep at home by some new, important business (twins). But she sent thirty-two cents, every cent of money she could rake and scrape, and that she had scrimped out of the money her husband had gin her for a woosted dress. She had sot her heart on havin' a ruffle round the bottom (he didn't give her enough for a overshirt), but she concluded to make it plain, and sent the ruffle money.

And young Sister Serena Nott had picked geese for her sister, who married a farmer up in Zoar. She had picked ten geese at two cents apiece, and Serena that tender-hearted that it wuz like pickin' the feathers offen her own back.

And then she is very timid, and skairt easy, and she owned up that while the pickin' of the geese almost broke her heart, the pickin' of the ganders almost skairt her to death. They wuz very high headed and warlike, and though she put a stockin' over their heads, they would lift 'em right up, stockin' and all, and hiss, and act, and she said she picked 'em at what seemed to her to be at the resk of her life.

But she loved the meetin' house, so she grin and bore it, as the sayin' is, and she brung the hull of her hard earned money, and handed it over to the treasurer, and everybody that is at all educated knows that twice ten is twenty. She brung twenty cents.

Sister Grimshaw had, and she owned it right out and out, got four dollars and fifty-three cents by sellin' butter on the sly. She had took it out of the butter tub when Brother Grimshaw's back wuz turned, and sold it to the neighbors for money at odd times through the year, and besides gettin' her a dress cap (for which she wuz fairly sufferin'), she gin the hull to the meetin' house.

There wuz quite dubersome looks all round the room when she handed in the money and went right out, for she had a errent to the store.

And Sister Gowdy spoke up and said she didn't exactly like to use money got in that way.

But Sister Lanfear sprunted up, and brung Jacob right into the argument, and the Isrealites who borrowed jewelry of the Egyptians, and then she brung up other old Bible characters, and held 'em up before us.

But still we some on us felt dubersome. And then another sister spoke up and said the hull property belonged to Sister Grimshaw, every mite of it, for he wuzn't worth a cent when he married her—she wuz the widder Bettenger, and had a fine property. And Grimshaw hadn't begun to earn what he had spent sense (he drinks). So, sez she, it all belongs to Sister Grimshaw, by right.

Then the sisters all begin to look less dubersome. But I sez:

“Why don't she come out openly and take the money she wants for her own use, and for church work, and charity?”

“Because he is so hard with her,” sez Sister Lanfear, “and tears round so, and cusses, and commits so much wickedness. He is willin' she should dress well—wants her to—and live well. But he don't want her to spend a cent on the meetin' house. He is a atheist, and he hain't willin' she should help on the Cause of religeon. And if he knows of her givin' any to the Cause, he makes the awfulest fuss, scolds, and swears, and threatens her, so's she has been made sick by it, time and agin.”

“Wall,” sez I, “what business is it to him what she does with her own money and her own property?”

I said this out full and square. But I confess that I did feel a little dubersome in my own mind. I felt that she ort to have took it more openly.

And Sister Grimshaw's sister Amelia, who lives with her (onmarried and older than Sister Grimshaw, though it hain't spozed to be the case, for she has hopes yet, and her age is kep). She had been and contoggled three days and a half for Miss Elder Minkley, and got fifty cents a day for contogglin'.

She had fixed over the waists of two old dresses, and contoggled a old dress skirt so's it looked most as well as new. Amelia is a good contoggler and a good Christian. And I shouldn't be surprised any day to see her snatched away by some widower or bachelder of proper age. She would be willin', so it is spozed.

Wall, Sister Henn kinder relented at the last, and brung two pairs of fowls, all picked, and tied up by their legs. And we thought it wuz kinder funny and providential that one Henn should bring four more of'em.

But we wuz tickled, for we knew we could sell 'em to the grocer man at Jonesville for upwerds of a dollar bill.

And Submit Tewksbury, what should that good little creeter bring, and we couldn't any of us hardly believe our eyes at first, and think she could part with it, but she did bring that plate. That pink edged, chiny plate, with gilt sprigs, that she had used as a memorial of Samuel Danker for so many years. Sot it up on the supper table and wept in front of it.

Wall, she knew old china like that would bring a fancy price, and she hadn't a cent of money she could bring, and she wanted to do her full part towerds helpin' the meetin' house along—so she tore up her memorial, a-weepin' on it for hours, so we spozed, and offered it up, a burnt chiny offerin' to the Lord.

Wall, I am safe to say, that nothin' that had took place that day had begun to affect us like that.

To see that good little creeter lookin' pale and considerble wan, hand in that plate and never groan over it, nor nothin', not out loud she didn't, but we spozed she kep up a silent groanin' inside of her, for we all knew the feelin' she felt for the plate.

It affected all on us fearfully.

But the treasurer took it, and thanked her almost warmly, and Submit merely sez, when she wuz thanked: “Oh, you are entirely welcome to it, and I hope it will fetch a good price, so's to help the cause along.”

And then she tried to smile a little mite. But I declare that smile wuz more pitiful than tears would have been.

Everybody has seen smiles that seemed made up, more than half, of unshed tears, and withered hopes, and disappointed dreams, etc., etc.

Submit's smile wuz of that variety, one of the very curiusest of 'em, too. Wall, she gin, I guess, about two of 'em, and then she went and sot down.

CHAPTER XXVII.

And now I am goin' to relate the very singulerist thing that ever happened in Jonesville, or the world—although it is eppisodin' to tell on it now, and also a-gettin' ahead of my story, and hitchin', as you may say, my cart in front of my horse. But it has got to be told and I don't know but I may as well tell it now as any time.

Mebby you won't believe it. I don't know as I should myself, if it wuz told to me, that is, if it come through two or three. But any way it is the livin' truth.

That very night as Submit Tewksbury sat alone at her supper table, a-lookin' at that vacent spot on the table-cloth opposite to her, where the plate laid for Samuel Danher had set for over twenty years, she heard a knock at the door, and she got up hasty and wiped away her tears and opened the door. A man stood there in the cold a-lookin' into the warm cosy little room. He didn't say nothin', he acted strange. He gin Submit a look that pierced clear to her heart (so they say). A look that had in it the crystallized love and longin' of twenty years of faithfulness and heart hunger and homesickness. It wuz a strange look.

Submit's heart begun to flutter, and her face grew red and then white, and she sez in a little fine tremblin' voice,

“Who be you?”

And he sez,

“I am Samuel Danker.”

And then they say she fainted dead away, and fell over the rockin' chair, he not bein' near enough to ketch her.

And he brung her to on a burnt feather that fell out of the chair cushion when she fell. There wuz a small hole in it, so they say, and the feather oozed out.

I don't tell this for truth, I only say that they say thus and so.

But as to Samuel's return, that I can swear to, and so can Josiah. And that they wuz married that very night of his return, that too can be swore to. A old minister who lived next door to Submit—superanuated, but life enough in him to marry 'em safe and sound, a-performin' the ceremony.

It made a great stir in Jonesville, almost enormus.

But they wuz married safe enough, and happy as two gambolin' lambs, so they say. Any way Submit looks ten years younger than she did, and I don't know but more. I don't know but she looks eleven or twelve years younger, and Samuel, why they say it is a perfect sight to see how happy he looks, and how he has renewed his age.

The hull affair wuz very pleasin' to the Jonesvillians. Why there wuzn't more'n one or two villians but what wuz fairly delighted by it, and they wuz spozed to be envius.

And I drew severel morals from it, and drew 'em quite a good ways too, over both religous and seckuler grounds.

One of the seekuler ones wuz drawed from her not settin' the table for him that night, for the first time for twenty years, givin' away the plate, and settin' on (with tears) only a stun chiny one for herself. How true it is that if a female woman keeps dressed up slick, piles of extra good cookin' on hand, and her house oncommon clean, and she sets down in a rockin' chair, lookin' down the road for company.

They don't come!

But let her on a cold mornin' leave her dishes onwashed, and her floors onswept, and put on her husband's old coat over her meanest dress, and go out (at his urgent request) to help him pick up apples before the frost spiles 'em. She a-layin' out to cook up some vittles to put on to her empty shelves when she goes into the house, she not a-dreamin' of company at that time of day.

They come!

Another moral and a more religeus one. When folks set alone sheddin' tears on their empty hands, that seem to 'em to be emptied of all hope and happiness forever. Like es not some Divine Compensation is a-standin' right on the door steps, ready to enter in and dwell with 'em.

Also that when Submit Tewksbury thought she had gin away for conscience' sake, her dearest treasure, she had a dearer one gin to her—Samuel Danker by name.

Also I drew other ones of various sizes, needless to recapitulate, for time is hastenin', and I have eppisoded too fur, and to resoom, and take up agin on my finger the thread of my discourse, that I dropped in the Methodist meetin' house at Jonesville, in front of the treasurer.

Wall, Submit brought the plate.

Sister Nash brought twenty-three cents all in pennys, tied up in the corner of a old handkercif. She is dretful poor, but she had picked up these here and there doin' little jobs for folks.

And we hadn't hardly the heart to take 'em, nor the heart to refuse takin' 'em, she wuz so set on givin' 'em. And it wuz jest so with Mahala Crane, Joe Cranes'es widder.

She, too, is poor, but a Christian, if there ever wuz one. She had made five pair of overhawls for the clothin' store in Loontown, for which she had received the princely revenue of fifty cents.

She handed the money over to the treasurer, and we wuz all on us extremely worked upon and wrought up to see her do it, for she did it with such a cheerful air. And her poor old calico dress she had on wuz so thin and wore out, and her dingy alpaca shawl wuz thin to mendin', and all darned in spots. We all felt that Mahala had ort to took the money to get her a new dress.

But we dasted none on us to say so to her. I wouldn't have been the one to tell her that for a dollar bill, she seemed to be so happy a-givin' her part towerds the fair, and for the good of the meetin' house she loved.

Wall, Sister Meachim had earned two dollars above her wages—she is a millinner by perswasion, and works at a millinner's shop in Jonesville. She had earned the two dollars by stayin' and workin' nights after the day's work wuz done.

And Sister Arvilly Lanfear had earned three dollars and twenty-eight cents by canvassin' for a book. The name of the book wuz: “The Wild, Wicked, and Warlike Deeds of Man.”

And Arvilly said she had took solid comfort a-sellin' it, though she had to wade through snow and slush half way up to her knees some of the time, a-trailin' round from house to house a-takin' orders fer it. She said she loved to sell a book that wuz full of truth from the front page to the back bindin'.

As for me I wouldn't gin a cent for the book, and I remember we had some words when she come to our house with it. I told her plain that I wouldn't buy no book that belittled my companion, or tried to—sez I, “Arvilly, men are jest as good as wimmen and no better, not a mite better.”

And Arvilly didn't like it, but I made it up to her in other ways. I gin her some lamb's wool yarn for a pair of stockin's most immegictly afterwerds, and a half bushel of but'nuts. She is dretful fond of but'nuts.

Wall, Sister Shelmadine had sold ten pounds of maple sugar, and brought the worth on it.

And Sister Henzy brung four dollars and a half, her husband had gin her for another purpose, but she took it for this, and thought there wuzn't no harm in it, as she laid out to go without the four dollars and a halt's worth. It was fine shoes he had gin the money for, and she calculated to make the old ones do.

And Sister Henzy's mother, old Miss Balch, she is eighty-three years old, and has inflamatery rheumatiz in her hands, which makes 'em all swelled up and painful. But Sister Henzy said her mother had knit three pairs of fringed mittens (the hardest work for her hands she could have laid holt of, and which must have hurt her fearful). But Miss Henzy said a neighbor had offered her five dollars fer the three pairs, and so she felt it wuz her duty to knit 'em, to help the fair along. She is a very strong Methodist, and loved to forwerd the interests of Zion.

She wuz goin' to give every cent of the money to the meetin' house, so Sister Henzy said, all but ten cents, that she had to have to get Pond's Extract with, to bathe her hands. They wuz in a fearful state. We all felt bad for old Miss Balch, and I don't believe there wuz a woman there but what gin her some different receipt fer helpin' her hands, besides sympathy, lots and lots of it, and pity.

Wall, Sister Sypher'ses husband is clost, very clost with her. She don't have anythin' to give, only her labor, as well off as they be. And now he wuz so wrapped up in that buzz saw mill business that she wouldn't have dasted to approach him any way, that is, to ask him for a cent.

Wall, what should that good little creeter do but gin all the money she had earned and saved durin' the past year or two, and had laid by for emergincies or bunnets.

She had got over two dollars and seventy-five cents, which she handed right over to the treasurer of the fair to get materials for fancy work. When they wuz got she proposed to knit three pairs of men's socks out of zephyr woosted, and she said she was goin' to try to pick enough strawberrys to buy a pair of the socks for Deacon Sypher. She said it would be a comfort for her to do it, for they would be so soft for the Deacon's feet.

Wall, Sister Gowdy wuz the last one to gin in dress gin to her by her uncle out to the Ohio. It wuz gin her to mourn for her mother-in-law in.

And what should that good, willin' creeter do but bring that dress and gin it to the fair to sell.

We hated to take it, we hated to like dogs, for we knew Sister Gowdy needed it.

But she would make us take it; she said “if her Mother Gowdy wuz alive, she would say to her,

“Sarah Ann, I'd ruther not be mourned for in bombazeen than to have the dear old meetin' house in Jonesville go to destruction. Sell the dress and mourn fer me in a black calico.”

That Sister Gowdy said would be, she knew, what Mother Gowdy would say to her if she wuz alive.

And we couldn't dispute Sarah Ann, for we all knew that old Miss Gowdy worked for the meetin' house as long as she could work for anything. She loved the Methodist meetin' house better than she loved husband or children, though she wuz a good wife and mother. She died with cramps, and her last request wuz to have this hymn sung to her funeral:

“I love thy kingdom, Lord,
The house of thine abode,
The church our dear Redeemer bought
With His most precious blood.”

The quire all loved Mother Gowdy, and sung it accordin' to her wishes, and broke down, I well remember, at the third verse—

“For her my tears shall fall,
For her my prayers ascend,
For her my toil and life be given,
Till life and toil shall end.”

The quire broke down, and the minister himself shed tears to think how she had carried out her belief all her life, and died with the thought of the church she loved on her heart and its name on her lips.

Wall, the dress would sell at the least calculation for eight dollars; the storekeeper had offered that, but Sarah Ann hoped it would bring ten to the fair.

It wuz a cross to Sarah Ann, so we could see, for she had loved Mother Gowdy dretful well, and loved the uncle who had gin it to her, and she hadn't a nice black dress to her back. But she said she hadn't lived with Mother Gowdy twenty years for nothin', and see how she would always sacrifice anything and everything but principle for the good of the meetin' house.

Sister Gowdy is a good-hearted woman, and we all on us honored her for this act of hern, though we felt it wuz almost too much for her to do it.

Wall, Sister Gowdy wuz the last one to gin in her testimony, and havin' got through relatin' our experiences we proceeded to business and paperin'.