But I controlled my agony of mind. I walked round with Tommy for a spell and showed him all the beauties of the place, which wuz many, sot down with him for a spell in the big, richly-furnished parlors, but cold and lonesome 25 lookin’ after all, for the love-light of home wuz lackin’, and looked at the glittering throng passing and repassing; but the wimmen looked fur off to me and the men wuz like shadders, only one man seemed a reality to me, and he wuz small boneded and fur away. And then we went to our room. I read to Tommy for a spell out of a good little book I bought, and then hearn him say his prayers, his innocent voice askin’ for blessin’s from on high for his parents and my own beloved lonely one, and then I tucked him into his little cot and sot down and writ a letter to my dear Josiah, tears dribblin’ down onnoticed while I did so.
For we had promised to write to each other every day of our lives, else I could not, could not have borne the separation, and I also begun a letter to Philury. I laid out to put down things that I wanted her to ’tend to that I thought on from day to day after I got away, and then send it to her bime by. Sez I:
“Philury, be sure and put woolen sheets on Josiah’s bed if it grows colder, and heat the soap stun for him and see that he wears his woolen-backed vest, takin’ it off if it moderates. Tend to his morals, Philury, men are prone to backslide; start him off reg’lar to meetin’, keep clean bandannas in his pocket, let him wear his gingham neckties, he’ll cry a good deal and it haint no use to spile his silk ones. Oh, Philury! you won’t lose nothin’ if you are good to that dear man. Put salt enough on the pork when you kill, and don’t let Josiah eat too much sassage. And so no more to-night, to be continude.”
The next morning I got two letters from my pardner. He had writ a letter right there in the deepo before he went home, and also another on his arrival there. Agony wuz in every word; oh, how wuz we goin’ to bear it!
But I must not make my readers onhappy; no I must harrow them up no more, I must spread the poultice of silence on the deep gaping woond and go on with the sombry history. After breakfast Miss Meechim got a big, handsome 26 carriage, drawed by two prancin’ steeds, held in by a man buttoned up to his chin, and invited me to take Tommy and go with her and Dorothy up to the Park, which I did. They wuz eloquent in praises of that beautiful place; the smooth, broad roads, bordered with tall trees, whose slim branches stood out against the blue sky like pictures. The crowds of elegant equipages, filled with handsome lookin’ folks in galy attire that thronged them roads. The Mall, with its stately beauty, the statutes that lined the way ever and anon. The massive walls of the Museum, the beautiful lake and rivulets, spanned by handsome bridges. It wuz a fair seen, a fair seen––underneath beauty of the rarest kind, and overhead a clear, cloudless sky.
Miss Meechim wuz happy, though she didn’t like the admiring male glances at Dorothy’s fresh, young beauty, and tried to ward ’em off with her lace-trimmed muff, but couldn’t. Tommy wuz in pretty good sperits and didn’t look quite so pale as when we left home, and he wonnered at the white statutes, and kinder talked to himself, or to Carabi about ’em, and I kinder gathered from what he said that he thought they wuz ghosts, and I thought that he wuz kinder reassurin’ Carabi that they wouldn’t hurt him, and he wonnered at the mounted policemen who he took to be soldiers, and at all the beauty with which we wuz surrounded. And I––I kep’ as cheerful a face as I could on the outside, but always between me and Beauty, in whatsoever guise it appeared, wuz a bald head, a small-sized figger. Yes, it weighed but little by the steelyards, but it shaddered lovely Central Park, the most beautiful park in the world, and the hull universe for me. But I kep’ a calm frame outside; I answered Miss Meechim’s remarks mekanically and soothed her nervous apprehensions as well as I could as she glanced fearfully at male admirers by remarkin’ in a casual way to her “that New York and the hull world wuz full of pretty women and girls,” which made her look calmer, and then I fell in to once with her scheme of drivin’ up the long, handsome 27 Boolevard, acrost the long bridge, up to the tomb of Our Hero, General Grant.
Hallowed place! dear and precious to the hull country. The place where the ashes lie that wuz once the casket of that brave heart. Good husband, kind father, true friend, great General, grand Hero, sleeping here by the murmuring waters of the stream he loved, in the city of his choice, sleeping sweetly and calmly while the whole world wakes to do him honor and cherish and revere his memory.
I had big emotions here, I always did, and spoze I always shall. But, alas! true it wuz that even over the memory of that matchless Hero riz up in my heart the remembrance of one who wuz never heroic, onheeded and onthought on by his country, but––oh! how dear to me!
The memory of his words, often terse and short specially before meal-time, echoed high above the memory of him who talked with Kings and Emperors, ruled armies and hushed the seething battle-cry, and the nation’s clamor with “Let us have peace.”
But I will not agin fall into harrow, or drag my readers there, but will simply state that, in all the seens of beauty and grandeur we looked on that day––and Miss Meechim wanted to see all and everything, from magestick meetin’ houses and mansions, bearin’ the stamp of millions of dollars, beautiful arches lifted up to heroes and the national honor, even down to the Brooklyn Bridge and the Goddess of Liberty––over all that memory rained supreme.