Josiah Allen's Wife as a P. A. and P. I.: Samantha at the Centennial. / Designed As a Bright and Shining Light, to Pierce the Fogs of Error and Injustice That Surround Society and Josiah, and to Bring More Clearly to View the Path That Leads Straight on to Virtue and Happiness.

by Marietta Holley

He talked so fast that I couldn’t git a chance to put in a word age ways for Josiah.

“His sewin’ machines are utterly worthless; he haint never sold one yet; he cant. His character has got out—folks know him. There was a lady tellin’ me the other day that her machine she bought of him, all fell to pieces in less than twenty-four hours after she bought it; fell onto her infant, a sweet little babe, and crippled it for life. I see your husband is havin’ a hard time of it with that colt. I will jest hitch my horse here to the fence, and go down and help him; I want to have a little talk with him before he comes back here.” So he started off on the run.

I told Josiah what he said about him, for it madded me, but Josiah took it cool. He seemed to love to set there and see them two men run. I never did see a colt act as that one did; they didn’t have time to pass a word with each other, to find out their mistake, it kep’ ’em so on a keen run. They would git it headed towards us, and then it would kick up its heels, and run into some lot, and canter round in a circle with its head up in the air, and then bring up short ag’inst the fence; and then they would leap over the fence. The first one had white pantaloons on, but he didn’t mind ’em; over he would go, right into sikuta or elderbushes, and they would wave their hats at it, and holler, and whistle, and bark like dogs, and the colt would whinner and start off again right the wrong way, and them two men would go a pantin’ after it. They had been a runnin’ nigh onto half an hour, when a good lookin’ young feller come along, and seein’ me a settin’ still and holdin’ the old mare, he up and says:

“Are you in any trouble that I can assist you?”

Says I, “We are goin’ home from Jonesville, Josiah and me, and our colt got away and—”

But Josiah interrupted me, and says he, “And them two fools a caperin’ after it, are sewin’ machine agents.”

The good lookin’ chap see all through it in a minute, and he broke out into a laugh it would have done your soul good to hear, it was so clear and hearty, and honest. But he didn’t say a word; he drove out to go by us, and we see then that he had a sewin’ machine in the buggy.

“Are you a agent?” says Josiah.

“Yes,” says he.

“What sort of a machine is this here?” says Josiah, liftin’ up the cloth from the machine in front of him.