“When they got dirty, jest wet a towel and clean ’em off.”
But I hastened to set him right, and, sez I, “Scott never wore one of ’em. He knew too much. How do you spoze,” sez I, “you could git round and do your spring’s work a-luggin’ round a ton of old iron?” Sez I, “You couldn’t lift one of the legs on’t with both your hands, and how could you plough with one on ’em on?”
Sez Josiah dreamily—he wuzn’t hearin’ a word I said—
“If I could git it cheaper without that head-piece, I might use our coal scuttle.” Sez he, “I believe its shape is more stylish. Oh!” sez he, “what a excitement I would make a-walkin’ into the Jonesville meetin’-house with the hull thing on! how stylish and uneek it would be!
“Where is the Widder Scott?” sez he; “I’ll tackle her about it.”
Sez I, “She’s with her noble husband in a land where style and folly have no home.”
And then with deep argument I made him see that a suit of armor was not suitable for farm work or meetin’-house duties.
But he gin it up reluctant, and at the last he sez—“How it would clank and rattle as I passed round the contribution plate—how all the other deacons would open their eyes!”
But I silently led him away to where there wuz a suit of Scott’s clothes, the last ones he wore.
And I had a very large variety of emotions as I looked on the clothes that had wropped round the magician who had the power to charm the hull world with his magic pen. My emotions drownded out the talk of the guide and the remarks of Martin and Josiah. And on one side of the fireplace stood the famous mistletoe trunk, as it’s called, that poor Genevra hid herself in on her weddin’ night. The Baron’s daughter, you know, the one that her Pa called “The star of that goodly company,” meanin’, I spoze, that she looked better than any of the rest of the young folks that he’d invited in to the weddin’. Poor, pretty, young creeter! I wuz always dretful sorry for her.