Samantha at Saratoga

Marietta Holley (1836-1926) has been called America’s first female humorist. She was an extremely popular author and a well-known suffragette. Holley, who never married, published her first books as Josiah Allen’s Wife, only adding her own name after her success was established. She lived in an 18 room home she built in Jefferson County, New York and drove a Pierce-Arrow. Her legacy of more than 20 books has mostly been forgotten today but they are still very good reading.
I have no information about the illustrator.
When Josiah read my dedication he said “it wuz a shame to dedicate a book that it had took most a hull bottle of ink to write, to a lot of creeters that he wouldn’t have in the back door yard.”
But I explained it to him, that I didn’t mean tramps with broken hats, variegated pantaloons, ventilated shirt-sleeves, and barefooted. But I meant tramps with diamond ear-rings, and cuff-buttons, and Saratoga trunks, and big accounts at their bankers.
And he said, “Oh, shaw!”
But I went on nobly, onmindful of that shaw, as female pardners have to be, if they accomplish all the talkin’ they want to.
And sez I, “It duz seem sort o’ pitiful, don’t it, to think how sort o’ homeless the Americans are a gettin’? How the posys that blow under the winders of Home are left to waste their sweet breaths amongst the weeds, while them that used to love ’em are a climbin’ mountain tops after strange nosegays.”
The smoke that curled up from the chimbleys, a wreathin’ its way up to the heavens—all dead and gone. The bright light that shone out of the winder through the dark a tellin’ everybody that there wuz a Home, and some one a waitin’ for somebody—all dark and lonesome.
Yes, the waiter and the waited for are all a rushin’ round somewhere, on the cars, mebby, or a yot, a chasin’ Pleasure, that like as not settled right down on the eves of the old house they left, and stayed there.
I wonder if they will find her there when they go back again. Mebby they will, and then agin, mebby they won’t. For Happiness haint one to set round and lame herself a waitin’ for folks to make up their minds.