“Who be they Thomas J.?” says I.
Says he, “It is a couple that don’t want to be gossiped about; that think marriage is sunthin’ too sacred and holy to be turned into a circus, with tinsel and folderols, and a big crowd of strangers a gazin’ on—the woman dressed up for principal performer, and the man for a clown. A couple that wants jest them they love best—”
I dropped right down into a chair and put up my gingham apron over my eyes and bust right out a cryin’, and I couldn’t have helped it, if Josiah had stood over me with a meat-axe. I knew who it was that was goin’ to be married and most probable set off for the west in the mornin’. Goin’ way off west; my boy, my Thomas Jefferson.
He come up behind me and put his hand on my shoulder and said in a kind of a tremblin’ voice—he thinks a sight of me, my boy does; and then he knows enough to know that a new life is a serious thing to set out on, even if love goes with ’em—says he:
“I thought you loved Maggy, mother.”
Says I, out from under my apron, “You know I do, Thomas Jefferson, and you ort to know your mother well enough to know she is a cryin’ for pleasure, pure enjoyment.” I wasn’t a goin’ to put no dampers onto my boy’s happiness that day, not if he sot off the next minute for the Antipithes. He stood there for a moment with his hand on my shoulder, and then he bent down and kissed me, and that was every word he said. Then he went up stairs to git ready.
It seems he had jest told his father to the barn, and Josiah come in all broke down about his goin’ off west. Maggy was my choice, and hisen, but the goin’ west was where the cast-iron entered into our very souls. But when I see my companion’s mean, I see where my duty lay, and I grasped holt of it. I knew he was completely unstrung, and I had got to string him up by my example, or he would crumple completely down on my hands. I see if I kep’ my Josiah collected together, I must keep my own composure up, and be calm. But while holdin’ up Duty and Josiah with a almost marble grip, what feelins I felt when we was on our way to the meetin’ house. What feelins I felt when I see Thomas J. and Maggy standin’ up in front of the altar, and Elder Colvin Kirk a marryin’ of ’em.
Maggy was dressed up in a white mull dress, with some lace ruffles round her neck and wrists. Not a mite of jewelry on her from head to foot, only a little pearl cross and ring that Thomas J. had give her; the ruffle round her neck was fastened in front with some sweet white poseys,—and she looked as pretty as the poseys herself, and prettier. Thomas Jefferson had on his best suit of clothes, and oh! how good he did look to me. And to think he was a goin’ way off where I couldn’t lay my eyes on him, or her either! Why, if I had leggo for a half a moment of Duty and Josiah, I should have groaned to that extent that it would have skairt ’em nearly to death.
But I held firm, and in the stoop of the meetin’-house I kissed ’em both and wished ’em well, with a almost marble composure. And with the same cast-iron command of myself, I got into the buggy and sot out for Tirzah Ann’s; she, and Whitfield and—well, it haint no matter who, but they, and Thomas J. and Maggy follerin’, and Judge Snow (he has been put in Judge and feels big about it they say) sayin’ he would join us at supper. He was in the secret of the deed, and so was Thomas Jefferson and Maggy.
But as we started off, Josiah groaned to that extent that he skairt the old mare, and I almost commanded him to control himself and be calm. But though he made a great effort, it was in vain; he groaned nearly every step of the way, and when he wasn’t a groanin’ he was a sithin’ fearful sithes. Oh! what a time I had.