Never did the year let a lovlier day slip offen his string (containin’ jest 365) than the day my pardner and me set off on our tower. Never did a brighter light rest upon a more peaceful realm and a serener wave, than that mornin’ sun a shinin’ down on our door-yard, and the crystal waters of the canal. Sweeter winds never blew out of the west, than the fresh mornin’ breeze that sort o’ hung round our bed-room winder where we was a fixin’, and gently waved the table-cloth, as Sister Doodle shook it offen the back steps. And never, sense the Widder had been took in and done for by us, had she been in such spirits. We had hired Betsey Slimpsey knee Bobbet to do all the heaviest of the work, and the Widder seemed glad and light of heart. For though the fried ham which we had for breakfast, and the salt-suller, and the sugar-bowl, had all put her in mind of Doodle—and though reminessinces was brought up, and particulars was abroad, still she didn’t weep a tear, but seemed to think of him and life with peace and resignation.
When I got all ready to start, I looked well, and felt well. I had bought a bran new dress expressly for the occasion, a sort of a Quaker brown, or lead color. It was cotton and worsted, I don’t know really what they do call it, but it was handsome, and very nice. It cost 18 pence per yard. It was made very fashionable; had a overskirt, and a cape all trimmed round the edge with a narrow strip of the same cut on the bias. Settin’ out as I did as a martyr, I sot my foot down firmly on ruffles and puckers. But this straight and narrow strip cut crossways of the cloth and sot on plain, suited both my eyes and my principles. It was stitched on with my new sewin’ machine. Almira Hagidone come to the house and made it for me—took her pay in white beans.
The cape looked noble when it was finished, and I knew it would. I would have it cut to suit me. It didn’t look flighty and frivolous, but it had a sort of a soarin’, deep look to it. It rounded up in the back, and had long, noble tabs in front. Almira said tabs had gone out, and argued warm ag’inst ’em, but I told her I seemed to have a drawin’ towards ’em, and finally I come right out and told her firmly; says I, “tabs I will have.” So she give in and cut it tab fashion.
I had another argument about my bunnet—I had my brown silk one done over. I had a frame made to order, for I was determined to have a bunnet that shaded my face some. I told the millener plainly that one of my night-caps—cut sheep’s-head fashion—was far better to the head as a protector, than bunnets as wore by wimmen; so I give my orders, and stood by her till the frame was done; and it looked well. It was a beautiful shape behind, and had a noble, roomy look to it in front. And when I put it on, and my green veil was tied round it, and hung in long, graceful folds down on one side of it, it suited me to a T. I trimmed off the edges of my veil where it was frayed out, and hemmed it over, and run in a new lutestring-ribbin string, and it looked as good as new. Havin’ a cape like my dress, I didn’t lay out to wear anything else round me on my tower, but I took my black silk mantilla along in case of need.
There was enough left of my dress to make a new sheath for my umberell, and though some of the neighbors thought and said, (it came right straight back to me) that it was awful extravagant in me, I launched out and made it, and wasn’t sorry I did. I am very tasty naturally, and love to see things correspond. I also bought me a new pair of cotton gloves—most the color of my dress, only a little darker so’s not to show dirt—at an outlay of 27 and a ½ cents.
Josiah was dressed up as slick as I was, and looked more trimmed off, and fancy, for he would wear that red, white, and blue, neck-tie, though upheld by duty, I says to him:
“Josiah Allen; bald heads, and red and blue neck-ties don’t correspond worth a cent; it is too dressy for you, Josiah Allen.”
I meant well, but as it is too often the case in this world—as all true Reformers know—my motives wasn’t took as they was meant. And he says in a complainin’ tone:
“You haint willin’ I should look dressy, Samantha, and you never was—that is the dumb of it.”
Says I firmly, “Stop swearin’ at once, and instantly, Josiah Allen.” And then as I see he was so awful sot on it, I said no more, and we started off in 2 excellent spirits—Josiah’s spirits and mine.