Wid. D. I know Doodle would. He had to have jest what he wanted to eat at jest the time he wanted it, or it would give him the palsy; he never had the palsy, but he always said that all that kept him from it was havin’ meat vittles, or anything else he wanted, jest the minute he wanted it. Oh, what a man that was; what a linement he had on him. It hain’t no ways likely I shall ever marry agin. No, I shan’t never see another man whose linement will look to me like Mr. Doodlese’s linement.
Sam. Yes, Betsey, I believe a man would take the supper instead of the smile.
Bet. Oh, deah! such cold practical ideahs are painful to me.
Sam. Wall, if you ever have the opportunity you try both ways; let your fire go out and you and your house look like fury, and nothing to eat, and you jest stand in the door and smile. And then again you have a nice supper—stewed oysters and cream biscuit and peaches, or something else first rate, and the table all set out as nice as a pink, and the kettle singing, and you dressed up pretty, and goin’ round the house in a sensible way, and you jest watch and see which of the two ways is the most agreeable to him.
Bet. Oh, food! food! what is food to the deathless emotions of the soul? What does the aching young heart care what food it eats? Let my dear futuah companion smile on me, and that is enough.
Sam. A man can’t smile on an empty stomach, Betsey. And a man can’t eat soggy bread with little chunks of saleratus in it, and clammy potatoes, and drink dish-water tea and muddy coffee and smile; or they might give one or two sickly, deathly smiles; but depend upon it, Betsey, they couldn’t keep it up. I have seen bread, Betsey Bobbett, that was enough to break down any man’s affection, unless he had firm principle to back it up, and love’s young dream has been drounded in thick muddy coffee before now. If there hain’t anything pleasant in a man’s home how can he be attached to it? Nobody can’t, man nor women, respect what hain’t respectable, nor love what hain’t lovable. Of course men have to be corrected sometimes. I correct Josiah frequently.
Bet. How any one blessed with a deah companion can speak about correcting them, is a mystery to me.
Sam. Men have to be corrected, Betsey; there wouldn’t be no living with them unless you did.
Enter Thomas Jefferson.
Bet. Well, you can entertain such views if you will, but as for me, I will be clinging; I will be respected by men. They do so love to have wimmen clinging, that I will, until I die, carry out this belief that is so sweet to them. Until I die, I will neveh let go of this speah.