Samantha at Saratoga by Marietta Holley (i read a book txt) 📖

Wall, we hadn’t been to Saratoga long before Aunt Polly Pixley came over to see us, for Aunt Polly had been as good as her word and had come to Saratoga, to her 2d cousins, the Mr. Pixley’ses, where Ardelia wuz a stopping. Ardelia herself is a distant relation to Aunt Polly, quite distant, about 40 or 50 miles distant when they are both to home.

Wall, the change in Aunt Polly is wonderful, perfectly wonderful. She don’t look like the same woman.

She took her knittin’ work and come in the forenoon, for a all day’s visit, jest as she wuz used to in the country, good old soul - and I took her right to my room and done well by her, and we talked considerable about other wimmen, not runnin’ talk, but good plain talk.

She thinks a sight of the Saratoga water, and well she may, if that is what has brung her up, for she wuz always sick in Jonesville, kinder bedrid. And when she sot out for Saratoga she had to have a piller to put on the seat behind her to sort a prop her up (hen’s feather).

And now, she told me she got up early every mornin’ and walked down to the spring for a drink of the water - walked afoot. And she sez, “It is astonishin’ how much good that water is a doin’ me; for,” sez she, “when I am to home I don’t stir out of the house from one day’s end to the other; and here,” sez she, “I set out doors all day a’most, a listenin’ to the music in the park mornin’ and evenin’ I hear every strain on’t.”

Aunt Polly is the greatest one for music I ever see, or hearn on. And I sez to her, “Don’t you believe that one great thing that is helpin’ you, is bein’ where you are kep’ gay and cheerful, - by music and good company; and bein’ out so much in the sunshine and pure air.” (Better air than Saratoga has got never wuz made; that is my opinion and Josiah’s too.) And sez I, “I lay a good deal to that air.”

“No,” she said, “it wuz the water.”

Sez I, “The water is good, I don’t make no doubts on’t.” But I continued calmly - for though I never dispute, I do most always maintain my opinion - and I sez again calmly, “There has been a great change in you for the better, sense you come here, Miss Pixley. But some on’t I lay to your bein’ where things are so much more cheerful and happyfyin’. You say you haint heerd a strain of music except a base viol for over 14 years before you come here. And though base viols if played right may be melodious, yet Sam Pixley’s base viol wuz a old one, and sort a cracked and grumbly in tone, and he wuzn’t much of a player anyway, and to me, base viols always sounded kinder base anyway.”

And sez I, “Don’t you believe a gettin’ out of your little low dark rooms, shaded by Pollard willers and grave stuns, and gettin’ out onto a place where you can heer sweet music from mornin’ till night, a liftin’ you up and makin’ you happier - don’t you believe that has sunthin’ to do with your feelin’ so much better - that and the pure sweet air of the mountains comin’ down and bein’ softened and enriched by the breath of the valley, and the minerals, makin’ a balmy atmosphere most full of balm - I lay a good deal to that.”

“Oh no,” sez she, “it is the water.”

“Yes,” sez I, in a very polite way, - I will be polite, “the water is good, first rate.”

But at that very minute, word come to her that she had company, and she sot sail homewards immegetly, and to once.

And now I don’t care anything for the last word, some wimmen do, but I don’t. But I sez to her, as I watched her a goin’ down the stairway, steppin’ out like a girl almost, sez I, “How well you do seem, Aunt Polly; and I lay a good deal on’t to that air.”

Now who would have thought she would speak out from the bottom of the stairway and say, “No, it is the water?”

Wall, the water is good, there haint no doubt, and anyway, through the water and the air, and bein’ took out of her home cares, and old surroundin’s onto a brght happy place, the change in Polly Pixley is sunthin’ to be wondered at.

Yes, the water is good. And it is dretful smart, knowin’ water too. Why, wouldn’t anybody think that when it all comes from the same place, or pretty nigh the same place anyway, that they would get kinder flustrated and mixed up once in a while?

But they don’t. These hundreds and thousands of years, and I don’t know how much longer, they have kep’ themselves separate from each other, livin’ nigh neighbors there down under the ground, but never neighborin’ with each other, or intermarryin’ in each other’s families. No, they have kep’ themselves apart, livin’ exclosive down below and bubblin’ up exclosive.

They know how to make each other keep their proper distance, and I s’pose through all the centuries to come they will bubble up, right side by side, entirely different from each other.

Curius, hain’t it? Dretful smart, knowin’ waters they be, fairly sparklin’ and flashin’ with light and brightness, and intelligence. They are for the healin’ and refreshin’ of ,the nations, and the nations are all here this summer, a bein’ healed by ’em. But still I lay a good deal to that air.

Amongst the things that Aunt Polly told me about wimmen that day, wuz this, that Ardelia Tutt had got a new Bo, Bial Flamburg, by name.

She said Mr. Flamburg had asked Ardelia’s 3d cousin to introduce him to her, and from that time his attentions to her had been unremittent, voyalent, and close. She said that to all human appearance he wuz in love with her from his hat band down to his boots and she didn’t know what the result would be, though she felt that the situation wuz dangerus, and more’n probable Abram Gee had more trouble ahead on him. (Aunt Polly jest worships Abram Gee, jest as everybody duz that gets to know him well.) And I too, felt that the situation wuz dubersome. For Ardelia I knew wuz one of the soft little wimmen that has got to have men a trailin’ round after ’em; and her bein’ so uncommon tender hearted, and Mr. Flamburg so deep in love, I feared the result.

Wall, I wuz jest a thinkin’ of this that day after dinner when Josiah proposed a walk, so we sot out. He proposed we should walk through the park, so we did. The air wuz heavenly sweet and that park is one of the most restful and beautiful places this side of Heaven, or so it seemed to us that pleasant afternoon. The music was very soft and sweet that day, sweet with a undertone of sadness, some like a great sorrowful soul in a beautiful body.

The balmy south wind whispered through the branches of the bendin’ trees on the hill where we sot. The light was a shinin’ and a siftin’ down through the green leaves, in a soft golden haze, and the music seemed to go right up into them shadowy, shinin’ pathways of golden misty light, a climbin’ up on them shadowy steps of mist and gold, and amber, up, up into the soft depths of the blue overhead - up to the abode of melody and love.

Down the hill in the beautiful little valley, all amongst the fountains and windin’ walks and white statutes, and green, green, grass, little children wuz a playin’. Sweet little toddlers, jest able to walk about, and bolder spirits, though small, a trudgin’ about with little canes, and jumpin’ round, and havin’ a good time.

Little boys and little girls (beautiful creeters, the hull on ’em), for if their faces, every one on ’em, wuzn’t jest perfect! They all had the beauty of childhood and happiness. And crowds of older folks wuz there. And some happy young couples, youths and maidens, wuz a settin’ round, and a wanderin’ off by themselves, and amongst them we see the form of Ardelia, and a young man by her side.

She wuz a leanin’ on the stun railin’ that fences in the trout pond. She wuz evidently a lookin’ down pensively at the shinin’ dartin’ figures of the trout, a movin’ round down in the cool waters.

I wuzn’t nigh enough to ’em to see really how her companion looked, but even at that distance I recognized a certain air and atmosphere a surroundin’ Ardelia that I knew meant poetry.

And Josiah recognized it too, and he sez to me, “We may as well go round the hill and out to the road that way,” sez he, (a pointin’ to the way furthest from Ardelia) “and we may as well be a goin’.”

That man abhors poetry.

Wall, we wandered down into the high way and havin’ most the hull afternoon before us, we kinder sauntered round amongst the stores that wuz pretty nigh to where we wuz. There is some likely good lookin’ stores kep’ by the natives, as they call the stiddy dwellers in Saratoga. Good lookin’ respectable stores full of comfort and consolation, for the outer or inner man or woman. (I speak it in a mortal sense).

But with the hundred thousand summer dwellers, who flock here with the summer birds, and go out before the swallers go south, there comes lots of summer stores, and summer shops, and picture studios, etc., etc. Like big summer bird’s-nests, all full and a runnin’ over with summer wealth, to be blowed down by the autumn winds. These shops are full of everything elegant and beautiful and useful. The most gorgeous vases and plaks and chiner ware of every description and color, and books, and jewelry, and rugs, and fans, and parasols, and embroideries, and laces, and etc., etc., etc.

And one shop seemed to be jest full of drops of light, light and sunshine, crystalized in golden, clear, tinted amber. There wuz a young female statute a standin’ up in the winder of that store with her hands outstretched and jest a drippin’ with the great glowin’ amber drops. Some wuz a hangin’ over her wings for she was a young flyin’ female. And I thought to myself it must be she would fly better with all that golden light a drippin’ about her.

Josiah liked her looks first rate. And he liked the looks of some of the pictures extremely. There wuz lots of places all full of pictures. A big collection of water colors, though as Josiah said and well said, How they could get so many colors out of water wuz a mystery to him.

But my choice out of all the pictures I see, wuz a little one called “The Sands of Dee.” It wuz “Mary a callin’ the cattle home.” The cruel treacherus water wuz a risin’ about her round bare ankles as she stood there amongst the rushes with her little milk-bucket on her arm.

Her pretty innocent face wuz a lookin’ off into the shadows, and the last ray of sunset was a fallin’ on her. Maybe it wuz the pity on’t that struck so hard as I looked at it, to know that the “cruel, crawli’n foam” wuz so soon to creep over the sweet young face and round limbs. And there seemed to be a shadow of the