“Oh yes, he has been married a few times, or what the cold world calls marrying—he has got a wife now, but I do not believe he has found his affinity yet, though he has got several bills of divorcement from various different wimmen trying to find her. That may be his business to Jonesville, but it does not become me to speak of it.”
Says I “Betsey Bobbet!” and I spoke in a real solemn camp meetin’ tone, for I was talkin’ on deep principle; says I, “you say he is a married man—and now to say nothin’ of your own modesty if you have got any and stand up onto clear principle, how would you like to have your husband if you had one, round kissin’ other wimmen?”
“Oh,” says she, “His wife will neveh know it, neveh!”
“If it is such a pious, heavenly, thing, why not tell her of it?”
“Oh Prof. Gusheh says that some natures are too gross and earthly to comprehend how souls can meet, scorning and forgetting utterly those vile, low, clay bodies of ours. He does not think much of these clay bodies anyway.”
“These clay bodies are the best we have got,” says I, “And we have got to stay in ’em till we die, and the Lord tells us to keep ’em pure, so he can come and visit us in ’em. I don’t believe the Lord thinks much of these holy drawin’s. I know I don’t.”
Betsey sot silently twistin’ her otter colored bonnet strings, and I went on, for I felt it was my duty.
“Married men are jest as good as them that haint married for lots of purposes, such as talkin’ with on the subject of religeon, and polytix and miscelanious subjects, and helpin’ you out of a double wagon, and etcetery. But when it comes to kissin’, marryin’ spiles men in my opinion for kissin’ any other woman only jest their own wives.”
“But suppose a man has a mere clay wife?” says Betsey.
Says I, “Betsey, Josiah Allen was goin’ to buy a horse the other day that the man said was a 3 year old; he found by lookin’ at her teeth that she was pretty near 40; Josiah didn’t buy it. If a man don’t want to marry a clay woman, let him try to find one that haint clay. I think myself that he will have a hard time to find one, but he has a perfect right to hunt as long as he is a mind to—let him,” says I in a liberal tone. “Let him hire a horse and sulkey, and search the country over and over. I don’t care if he is 20 years a huntin’ and comparin’ wimmin a tryin’ to find one to suit him. But when he once makes up his mind, I say let him stand by his bargain, and make the best of it, and not try afterwards to look at her teeth.”