“Samantha, my pantaloons haint suitable to wear to the Sentimental, they are all frayed out round the bottoms, and you can see your face in the knees, they are so shiny, they are as good as lookin’ glasses.”
I felt dretful well to think I had come off conqueror, and awful relieved to think my pardner’s reasons was them I could grapple with and overthrow. I see that my mission could be preformed about, my tower gone off on. And then my companion’s affectionate mean endeared him to me dretfully for the time bein’, and take it altogether I felt so dretful eloquent, I soared right up in half a minute to a height of happiness and eloquence that I hadn’t sot on for days and days, and I broke right out in a noble oriterin’ tone, and as affectionate as they make:
“Josiah Allen that pure and heavenly blossom of True Love never floated down from Eden bowers into this troublesome world, without its whiteness makin’ the soul whiter that it lighted down on. It never warmed the heart with a breath of the heavenly climate it was born in without inspirin’ that heart with a desire and a inspiration to help the beloved object.” Says I firmly, “Store clothes are not a goin’ to part my companion and happiness;” and I added—in still more lofty tones for I felt noble in spirit as I said it—“take the last churnin’ of butter Josiah Allen, and go to Jonesville and git the cloth for a new pair of pantaloons, and I will make them for you or perish on the press board.”
“Well,” says he sweetly, as he helped himself to the sweet sass, “then we will go to the Sentimental.”
(I have give up tryin’ to have Josiah call it anything but Sentimental, because I see plain after arguin’ for several weeks on it, that argument was wasted, and breath spent in vain. He says he has spelt the word over time and again, and studied on it a sight, and he knows it is as near that as anything, and he will call it Sentimental.)
Well, the very day I finished his trowsers, he broached a new idee to me. We had been a layin’ out to go on the cars, but Josiah says to me, says he:
“What do you say Samantha to goin’ with the old mare, and kinder visitin’ along the road; we have got lots of relations that live all along the way, some on my side, and some on yourn. They’ve all visited us time and again, and we haint never been nigh ’em to visit ’em. What do you say Samantha, to goin’ in our own conveniance.”
“You mean conveyance,” says I firmly.
“Well I said so didn’t I; what do you say to it, Samantha?”
Says I, “I haint a goin’ in that old buggy of ourn.”