CHAPTER XXXII
Amongst my letters wuz one from Evangeline Noble tellin’ of her safe arrival in Africa and of the beginning of her work there, some like strikin’ a match to light a lamp in a dark suller, but different from that because the light she lit wuz liable to light other lamps, and so on and on and on till no tellin’ what a glorious brilliance would shine from the one little rushlight she wuz kindlin’. She felt it, she wuz happy with that best kind of happiness, doin’ good. She spoke of Cousin John Richard, too; he wuz not in the same place she wuz, but she hearn of him often, for his life wuz like a vase filled with the precious ointment broke at the feet of Jesus. Broken in a earthly sense, but the rich aroma sweetened the whole air about and ascended to the very heavens.
A missionary she knew had seen him just before she wrote me. He wuz working, giving his life and finding it again, useful, happy, beloved. Not a success in a worldly way; Mudd-Weakdew would have called it a dead failure. In place of a palace, Cousin John Richard could not call even the poor ruff that sheltered him his own. Instead of a retinue of servants, Cousin John Richard worked diligently with his hands to earn his daily bread; instead of stocks and bonds bringing him rich revenues, he had only the title deeds of the house of many mansions, and Mudd-Weakdew would not have accepted any deeds unless signed before a notary and sealed with our govermunt stamp. No wealth, no luxuries, not hardly the necessities of life had Cousin John Richard, whilst Mudd-Weakdew wuz steeped in the atmosphere of wealth and grandeur for which he had lived and toiled, yet Cousin John Richard wuz blissfully happy and 399 content, Mudd-Weakdew unspeakably and hopelessly wretched. Both had follored their goles and wuz settin’ on ’em, but, oh! how different they wuz––how different to themselves and them about ’em. Inspiration and help flowed from Cousin John Richard’s personality like the warm sunshine of a clear June day, or the perfume from a rare lily, brightening, sweetening and uplifting all about him, whilst from Mudd-Weakdew fell a dark shadder made up of gloom, discontent, envy, hatred. How different they wuz, how different they wuz! And Robert Strong’s gole, how different his wuz from Mudd-Weakdew’s. I methought of what Miss Meechim had said to me deplorin’ly, how different Robert Strong wuz. Yes, indeed! both on ’em had had fur different goles and pursued ’em. The onselfish road Robert Strong trod wuz leadin’ him to the house of happiness––Mudd-Weakdew’s to the house of pain and despair.
I dare presoom to say I eppisoded more’n a hour to myself about it and to Josiah, ’tennyrate Josiah got real huffy and acted, and sez in a pitiful axent:
“Samantha, I’m willin’ to hear preachin’ twice a week and can set under it like a man, but it comes kinder tough to have moralizin’ and preachin’ brung into the bosom of the family and liable to be drizzled out onto me week days, and any time, night or day.”
His axent wuz extremely hopeless and pitiful. He felt a good deal as I did in the matter, but it is a man’s nater to be more impatient and not bear the yoke so well as wimmen do. Wimmen are more used to galdin’ things than men be; I don’t blame Josiah.
I wuz glad enough to see in Vienna the stately monument to Maria Theresa, Empress of Austria Hungary. To see all about her and below her the noble forms of Wisdom, Strength, Justice and Religion. And men a-hoss back and sages and soldiers and to see her a-settin’ so calm and benine on top of the hull caboodle, it gin me proud sensations and made me glad I wuz a woman, but not haughty.
Maria Theresa wuz a likely woman; I wish she could have lived to have me encourage her by tellin’ her what I thought on her. I would said to her: