And then he went on and said political ties wuz drawin’ him, and he brung up fatherly feelin’s for the children, and cuttin’ up burdocks, and buildin’ stun walls, and etcetery. But bein’ met with plain Common Sense in front of all these things, he bust out at last with 186 the true reason: “I hain’t no more money to spend here, and I tell you so, Samantha, and I mean it!”
And I sez, “Why didn’t you say so in the first place, it would have been more noble.”
And he said a man didn’t care much about bein’ noble when they’d got down to their last cent (he’s got plenty of money, though I wouldn’t want it told on, for rich folks are always imposed upon, and charged higher).
Well, suffice it to say, we concluded to go home the next day and did so. And though I felt bad to leave the horsepitable ruff where I’d enjoyed so much kind and friendly horspitality yet to the true home lover there are always strong onseen ties that bind the heart to the old hearth stun, and they always seem to be drawin’ and tuggin’ till they draw one clear back to the aforesaid stun and chimbly. Josiah paid for our two boards like a man, and we embarked for Clayton and from thence traveled by cars and mair to our beloved home.
And right here let me dispute another wicked wrong story, we never had to pay a cent for gittin’ offen the Thousand Island Park. It is a base fabrication to say folks have to pay to git out. They let us out jest as free and easy as 187 anything, and I thought they acted kinder smilin’ and good feelin’. What a world of fibs and falsehoods we are livin’ in!
We got home in time for supper and at my companion’s request I took off the parfenalia of travel, my gray alpacky, and havin’ enrobed myself in a domestic gingham of chocklate color and a bib apron, I proceeded to help Philury git a good supper. The neighbors all flocked in to see us and congratulate us on our safe return from the perils and temptations of worldly society. And Josiah wuz indeed in his glory as he told the various deacons and church pillows that gathered round him from time to time, of all his fashionable experiences and dangerous exploits while absent.
Of course my time wuz more took up by my female friends, but anon or oftener I would ketch the sound of figgers in connection with fish that wuz astoundin’ in the extreme. But when I would draw nigh the subject would be turned and the attention of the pillows would be drawed off onto yots, summer hotels, Tabernacles, etc., etc. Well such is life. But anon the waves of excitement floatin’ out insensibly from the vortex in which we had so lately revolved round in, gradually abated and went 188 down, and the calm placid surface of life in Jonesville wuz all we could see as we looked out of our turret winders—(metafor).
Gradually the daily excitement of seein’ the milk cans pass morning and night, and the school children go whoopin’ schoolward and homeward, wuz the most highlarious excitement participated in. A few calm errents of borryin’ tea and spice, now and then a tin peddler and a agent, or a neighborhood tea drinkin’, wuz all that interrupted our days serene.
And old Miss Time, that gray headed old weaver, who is never still, but sets up there in that ancient loom of hern a weavin’, while her pardner is away mowin’ with that sharp scythe of hisen from mornin’ till night, and from night till mornin’, jest so stiddy did she keep on weavin’. Noiseless and calm would the quiet days pass into her old shuttle (which is jest as good to-day as it wuz at the creation). Silent days, quiet days, in a broad stripe, not glistenin’ or shiny, but considerable good-lookin’ after all. Then anon variegated with moon lit starry nights, blue skies, golden sunsets, deep dark, moonless midnights, all shaded off into soft shadders.
And then givin’ way to a stripe of hit or miss, 189 restless hours, days when the “Fire won’t burn the stick and the kid refuses to go,” small excitements, frustrated ambitions, etc.