Why it seemed as if the very clouds wuz full of shadowy faces a bendin’ down to hear it, and the new moon, shaped just like a boat, had glided down, down the sky to listen.
If the man of the moon was there he wuz a layin’ in the bottom of the boat, he wuzn’t in sight. But if he heard that music I’ll bet he would say he wuzn’t in the practice of hearin’ any better. And Josiah stood stun still till she had got done, and then he sort a sithed out:
“Oh, it seems as if it must be Beuler land! Do you s’pose, Samantha, Beuler land is any more beautiful?”
And I sez, “I haint a thinkin’ about Beulah.” I sez it pretty middlin’ tart, partly to hide my own feelin’s, which wuz perfectly rousted up, and partly from principle, and sez I, “Don’t for mercy’s sake call it Beuler.”
Josiah always will call it so. I’ve got a 4th cousin, Beulah Smith (my own age and unmarried up to date), and he always did and would call her Beuler. Truly in some things a pardner’s influence and encouragement fails to accomplish the ends aimed at.
Wall, it wuz after some words that I drew Josiah away from that seen of enchantment - or he me, I don’t exactly know which way it wuz - and we wended onwards in our walk.
The hull broad streets wuz full of folks, full as they could be, all on ’em perfect strangers to us and who knew what motives or weapons they wuz a carryin’ with ’em; but we knew we wuz safe, Josiah and me did, for way up over all our heads, stood a big straight soldier, a volunteer volunteerin, to see to the hull crew on ’em below, a seein’ that they behaved themselves. His age wuz seventy-seven as near as I could make out but he didn’t look more’n half that. He had kep’ his age remarkable.
Wall, it wuz, if I remember right, jest about now that we see a glitterin’ high up over our heads some writen in flame. I never see such brilliant writin, before nor don’t know as I ever shall ag’in.
And Josiah stopped stun still, and stood a lookin’ perfectly dumfoundered at it. And finally he sez, “I’d give a dollar bill if I could write like that.”