I told her what the Sentinal was, and says I, “I want you to go Mahala. Josiah and I are a goin’, and it will do you good to git away from home a spell; you can git some good girl to keep house for you. S’posen you go?”
She looked at me as if she thought I was as crazy as a loon.
“Go!” says she. “Go! why it will be right in fly time and spider time. Do you s’pose that anybody that haint a perfect slouch of a housekeeper would leave their house in fly time or spider web time? Thank fortin nobody can find a spider web in my house nor my wood-house. I haint one to let things go as some will, and go off on pleasure towers right in dog days.”
I see she was a twittin’ me of lettin’ things go, and bein’ off on a tower, and my high mission goared me, and principle nerved me up to give her a piece of my mind; and says I to her:
“There is cobwebs a hangin’ from your brain this minute Mahala Spicer, more’n a yard long.” Says I, “You have chased me round with a mop, and kinder limbered me up, so I feel like marchin’ forred nobly in the cause of Right;—and I say to you, and I say it in a friendly way,—that if there was ever any brightness to your intellect, there is dust over it now a inch thick. You twit me about lettin’ things go, and bein’ off on a tower; you say you wont let things go; in my way of thinkin’ you do let things go; you let all the beauty and brightness of life go; all the peace and enjoyment and repose of home go; all your husband’s and childern’s rest, and enjoyment, and love, and respect for you, go. You say you don’t even git time to look into a book from one year’s end to another. Think of that great world of delight and culture you leggo. You say you don’t find time to step or look out of doors. Jest think of God’s great picture-book that He spreads out before your blind eyes from day to day—every page filled with wonder, surprise and admiration. Think of how that book looks when the leaf is turned down to sunset, or when it is turned over to bright Indian summer and etcetery.” My tone was eloquent, very; and my hand waved out in noble waves as I went on:
“Jest think how from day to day the sun’ rises in splendor and goes down in heavenly glory; how the white clouds like feathered out chariots for the baby angels to ride out in, float over the beautiful blue sky unbeknown to you; how the winds kinder rustle the green leaves in the woods, and the sun shoots down her gold arrers through ’em, a chasin’ the cool shadders over the green moss, and never catchin’ of ’em. How the white lilys fatigue their sweet selves a perfumin’ the air and the roses and pinks blush crimson at their own prettiness, and the violets hide their blue eyes down under the grass, so awful pretty that they are fairly ashamed of themselves, and the ferns wave their green banners in triumphant delight to let ’em know they have found ’em out. How the lake changes to more’n forty pictures a day, every one handsomer than the other, from the time it looks kinder blue, and hazy, and dreamy in the mornin’ twilight, till the settin’ sun makes a shinin’ path on it, that seems to lead right out into that city of golden streets.
“Think what low and kinder contented songs the brook sings to the pussy willow, and what the willows whisper back to the brook. How the birds chirp and twitter and sail and sing, a well behaved melodious orkustre givin’ free tickets to everybody; and your ears as deaf as a stun to it all. Think of all these things you leggo to pore over ruffles and knife pleatin’s. You used to be a fine musician—made first-rate music—and that melodious job, the only piece of work you can begin on earth and finish up in heaven, all that happiness for yourself and family, you leggo. If you was obleeged to do all this, I should pity you; and if you was obleeged to wear yourself down to a early grave—as I see you are a doin’,—leavin’ your childern plenty of ruffles and no mother, I should pity you; but your husband is abundantly able, and more’n willin’ to hire help for you to do your work decently and comfortably, and leave you time to make your home a place of delight and rest to him and the childern. But instead of that, instead of throwin’ open the doors of your heart and your house to the free air of heaven, and the sunshine;—instead of keepin’ your husband’s and childern’s love and makin’ their happiness and hisen and your own life beautiful by culture, and sweet thoughts, and generous deeds; instead of liftin’ your eyes heavenward and seein’ with the eyes of your soul some divine ideal and pursuin’ after it, you have set your aim in life on a fly and chase that aim blindly, and prefer to go through life on all fours with a scrub rag.”
If you’ll believe it, that woman was mad; it does beat all how good advice will make some folks squirm; but as we was on the very pint of leavin’, I didn’t care a cent; and I didn’t feel in the least mite beholden to her, for they come to our house when they was first married, and stayed three weeks right along, and I guess they didn’t git treated much as she treated Josiah and me. I done well by ’em—killed a hen most every day—and made a fuss. That was before she took to chasin’ flies; she was bright as a new dollar, didn’t act like the same critter, nor he nuther; that was before he had the nip took out of him, by bein’ chased round by a mop.
I kissed the little childern all a settin still in a row—or little old wimmen I ort to say, bid Mahala a glad and happy good bye, and then we went out to the barn and took leave of Philander in the manger, and sot forred again on our tower.
