His back wuz to the light, and his face wuz in the shadder, but I could see that it wuz dark and eager, with glowin’ eyes that seemed to light up his dark features, some as the stars light up the sky.
And he wuz dressed in a strange garb, sech as I never see before, only to the World’s Fair. Yes, in that singular moment I see the value of travel. It give me sech a turn that if I hadn’t had the advantage of seein’ jest such costooms at that place, I should most probble have swooned away right on my own doorstep.
He wuz dressed in a long, loose gown of some dark material, and had a white turban on his head. Who he wuz or where he come from was a mystery to me.
But I felt it wuz safe anyway to say, “Good-evenin’,” whoever he wuz or wherever he came from; he couldn’t object to that.
So consequently I said it—not a-knowin’ but he would address me back in Hindoo, or Sanskrit, or Greek, or sunthin’ else paganish and queer.
But he didn’t; he spoke jest as well as my Thomas Jefferson could, and when I say that, I say enough, full enough for anybody, only his voice had a little bit of a foreign axent to it, that put me in mind some of the strange odor of Maggie’s sandal-wood fan, sunthin’ that is inherient and stays in it, though it is owned in America, and has Jonesville wind in it—good, strong wind, as good as my turkey feather fan ever had.
Sez he, “Good-evening, madam. Do I address Josiah Allen’s wife?”
Sez I, “You do.”
Sez he, “Pardon this intrusion. I come on particular business.”
Whereupon I asked him to come in, and sot a chair for him.