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

I rubbed away on a pie plate, a musin’ in deep thought, and then I segested this to her, in pretty even tones, but earnest and deep:

“Did you ever try a mindin’ your own business, and makin’ other folks mind theirn?”

“No,” says she meekly. And she sithed as deep as I ever heerd any one sithe. “I mind my business pretty well,” says she, “but I never tried to make other folks mind theirn. I wasn’t strong enough.”

“Well,” says I, “before I leave this place, I lay out to make a change.” Says I, “many is the time I have filled the bottle you was brought up on, and I haint a goin’ to stand by and see you killed. And before I leave Shackville, the meetin’ house has got to git offen your back, or I’ll know the reason why.”

She looked considerable skairt, but I could see it made her feel better to have somebody to sort o’ lean on. And as we finished our dishes, (the buttery was full on ’em, she hadn’t had time to half wash ’em the night before,) she went on and told more of her troubles to me.

She said her husband bein’ a handsome man, the other wimmen in the church naturally took to him. She said there wasn’t a jealous hair in the hull of her back hair, or foretop, and her husband’s morals was known to her to be sound as sound could be, and she said he didn’t like it no better than she did, this bein’ follered up so uncommon close by ’em. She said it was kinder wearin’ on her to see it go on. But she meant to be reasonable, knowin’ that ministers was always took to by wimmen.

“Took to!” says I. “I should think as much!” Says I, “Wimmen are as flat as pancakes in some things, and this is one of ’em. I have seen a pack of wimmen before now, a actin’ round a minister, till their actin’ was jest as good as thoroughwort to my stomach, jest as sickenin’.” Says I, “I don’t wonder that the ’postle spoke about how beautiful minister’s feet was. I don’t wonder that he mentioned their feet in particular, for if ever there was a set of men that needed good feet in a world full of foolish wimmen, it is them.”

But Serepta sithed, and I see that she was a carryin’ the meetin’ house, (as it were.) I see that Miss Horn was on her mind, and I pitted her. She said Miss Horn was the hardest cross she had to bear. She said she would watch her chimbly for hours, to see what time they got up. And havin’ the newraligy a good deal, and settin’ up with it, watchin’ with that and her babies, she sometimes slept till late in the mornin’. And her husband would git his brain so completely rousted up a writin’ his sermons that he couldn’t quell it down, and git it quieted off so’s to rest any till most mornin’. And she said Miss Horn and her hired girl would rise at daybreak and watch her chimbly, one hour on, and one hour off, till they see the smoke come out of it, and then one of ’em would sally out to tell the exact minute to the neighborhood, while the other got the breakfast. They didn’t try to do anything else only jest cook, and tend to Serepta and the other neighbors. And their gittin’ up so early, give ’em a chance to git their housework done, and then have as many as seven hours apiece left to gossip round the neighborhood. They made it profitable, dretful, as Miss Horn told Serepta she despised lazyness.

But Serepta said it made her feel curious, when they would come in and tell her the exact minute the smoke of her cook stove rose upward, for she—bein’ in the habit of goin’ to work when she did git up—didn’t have much time to devote to the pursuit of smoke. She said it was sort o’ wearin’ on her, not so much on the account of their callin’ her lazy, which she expected and looked out for, but it made her feel as if it was war time, and she was one of the enemy. She said to think their eyes was on her chimbly jest as soon as the sun was up, a watchin’ it so close, it give her a as curious a feelin’ as she ever felt; she felt somehow as if she was under the military. She said she felt as if she was a tory more’n half the time, on this very account; it wore on her considerable.

“Why don’t you spunk up Serepta Simmons,” says I, “and tell Miss Horn and the rest of ’em, that when you git so that you haint nothin’ else to do but watch other folks’es chimblys, you will hire out for a scarecrow, and so earn a respectable livin’, and be somebody?”