He looks as Thomas J. did when he wuz his age and I married his pa and took the child to my heart, and got his image printed there so it won’t never rub off through time or eternity. Tommy is like his pa and he hain’t like him; he has his pa’s old ways of truthfulness and honesty, and deep––why good land! there hain’t no tellin’ how deep that child is. He has got big gray-blue eyes, with long dark lashes that kinder veil his eyes when he’s thinkin’; his hair 10 is kinder dark, too, about the color his pa’s wuz, and waves and crinkles some, and in the crinkles it seems as if there wuz some gold wove into the brown. He has got a sweet mouth, and one that knows how to stay shet too; he hain’t much of a talker, only to himself; he’ll set and play and talk to himself for hours and hours, and though he’s affectionate, he’s a independent child; if he wants to know anything the worst kind he will set and wonder about it (he calls it wonner). He will say to himself, “I wonner what that means.” And sometimes he will talk to Carabi about it––that is a child of his imagination, a invisible playmate he has always had playin’ with him, talkin’ to him, and I spoze imaginin’ that Carabi replies. I have asked him sometimes, “Who is Carabi, I hearn you talkin’ to out in the yard? Where duz he come from! How duz he look?”
He always acts shy about tellin’, but if pressed hard he will say, “He looks like Carabi, and he comes from right here,” kinder sweepin’ his arms round. But he talks with him by the hour, and I declare it has made me feel fairly pokerish to hear him. But knowin’ what strange avenoos open on every side into the mysterious atmosphere about us, the strange ether world that bounds us on every pint of the compass, and not knowin’ exactly what natives walk them avenoos, I hain’t dasted to poke too much fun at him, and ’tennyrate I spozed if Tommy went a long sea-voyage Carabi would have to go too. But who wuz goin’ with Tommy? Thomas J. had got independent rich, and Maggie has come into a large property; they had means enough, but who wuz to go with him? I felt the mantilly of responsibility fallin’ on me before it fell, and I groaned in sperit––could I, could I agin tempt the weariness and danger of a long trip abroad, and alone at that? For I tackled Josiah on the subject before Thomas J. importuned me, only with his eyes, sad and beseechin’ and eloquent. And Josiah planted himself firm as a rock on his refusal.
Never, never would he stir one step on a long sea-voyage, 11 no indeed! he had had enough of water to last him through his life, he never should set foot on any water deeper than the creek, and that wuzn’t over his pumps. “But I cannot see the child die before my eyes, Josiah, and feel that I might have saved him, and yet am I to part with the pardner of my youth and middle age? Am I to leave you, Josiah?”
“I know not!” sez he wildly, “only I know that I don’t set my foot on any ship, or any furren shore agin. When I sung ‘hum agin from a furren shore’ I meant hum agin for good and all, and here I stay.”
“Oh dear me!” I sithed, “why is it that the apron strings of Duty are so often made of black crape, but yet I must cling to ’em?”
“Well,” sez Josiah, “what clingin’ I do will be to hum; I don’t go dressed up agin for months, and hang round tarvens and deepos, and I couldn’t leave the farm anyway.”
But his mean wuz wild and haggard; that man worships me. But dear little Tommy wuz pinin’ away; he must go, and to nobody but his devoted grandma would they trust him, and I knew that Philury and Ury could move right in and take care of everything, and at last I sez: “I will try to go, Thomas J., I will try to go ’way off alone with Tommy and leave your pa–––.” But here my voice choked up and I hurried out to give vent to some tears and groans that I wouldn’t harrow Thomas J. with. But strange, strange are the workin’s of Providence! wonderful are the ways them apron strings of Duty will be padded and embroidered, strange to the world’s people, but not to them that consider the wonderful material they are made of, and how they float out from that vast atmosphere jest spoke on, that lays all round us full of riches and glory and power, and beautiful surprises for them that cling to ’em whether or no. Right at this time, as if our sharp distress had tapped the universe and it run comfort, two relations of Maggie’s, on their way home from Paris to San Francisco, stopped to see their relations in Jonesville on their own sides.
Dorothy Snow, Maggie’s cousin, wuz a sweet young girl, the only child of Adonirum Snow, who left Jonesville poor as a rat, went to Californy and died independent rich. She wuz jest out of school, had been to Paris for a few months to take special studies in music and languages; a relation on her ma’s side, a kind of gardeen, travelin’ with her. Albina Meechim wuz a maiden lady from choice, so she said and I d’no as I doubted it when I got acquainted with her, for she did seem to have a chronic dislike to man, and havin’ passed danger herself her whole mind wuz sot on preventin’ Dorothy from marryin’.
They come to Maggie’s with a pretty, good natured French maid, not knowin’ of the sickness there, and Maggie wouldn’t let ’em go, as they wuz only goin’ to stay a few days. They wuz hurryin’ home to San Francisco on account of some bizness that demanded Dorothy’s presence there. But they wuz only goin’ to stop there a few days, and then goin’ to start off on another long sea-voyage clear to China, stoppin’ at Hawaii on the way. Warm climate! good for measles! My heart sunk as I hearn ’em tell on’t. Here wuz my opportunity to have company for the long sea-voyage. But could I––could I take it? Thomas Jefferson gently approached the subject ag’in. Sez he, “Mother, mebby Tommy’s life depends on it, and here is good company from your door.” I murmured sunthin’ about the expenses of such a trip.