But I went on and acrost to a balcony, and after I went in, a gate snapped shet behind me and I couldn’t git back. And when I got to the other side there wuzn’t any steps, and if I got down at all I had to slide down. I didn’t like to make the venter, but had to, so I tried to forgit my specs and gray hair and fancy I wuz ten years old, in a pig-tail braid, and pantalettes tied on with my stockin’s, and sot off. As I went down with lightnin’ speed I hadn’t time to think much, but I ricollect this thought come into my harassed brain:
Be pardners worth all the trouble I’m havin’ and the dretful experiences I’m goin’ through? Wouldn’t it been better to let him go his length, than to suffer what I’m sufferin’? I reached the floor with such a jolt that my mind didn’t answer the question; it didn’t have time.
All to once, another wind sprung up from nowhere seemin’ly, and tried its best to blow off my bunnet. But thank Heaven, my good green braize veil tied round it with strong lutestring ribbon, held it on, and I see I still had holt of my trusty cotton umbrell, though the wind had blowed it open, but I shet it and 259 grasped it firmly, thinkin’ it wuz my only protector and safeguard now Josiah wuz lost, and I hastened away from that crazy spot.
“As I went down with lightnin’ speed I had’nt time to think much.” (See page 258)
As I passed on I see a hull lot of long ropes danglin’ down. On top of ’em wuz a trolley, and folks would hang onto the handle and slide hundreds of feet through the air. But I didn’t venter. Disinclination and rumatiz both made me waive off overtures to try it. 260
Pretty soon I come to a huge turn-table, big as our barn floor. It wuz still and harmless lookin’ when I first see it, and a lot of folks got onto it, thinkin’ I spoze it looked so shiny and good they’d like to patronize it. But pretty soon it begun to move, and then to turn faster and faster till the folks couldn’t keep their seats and one by one they wuz throwed off, and went down through a hole in the floor I know not where.
As I see ’em disappear one by one in the depths below, thinks I, is that where Josiah Allen has disappeared to? Who knows but he is moulderin’ in some underground dungeon, mournin’ and pinin’ for me and his native land. Of course Reason told me that he couldn’t moulder much in two days, but I wuz too much wrought up to listen to Reason, and as I see ’em slide down and disappear, onbeknown to myself I spoke out loud and sez:
“Can it be that Josiah is incarcerated in some dungeon below? If he is, I will find and release him or perish with him.”