Samantha at the St. Louis Exposition by Marietta Holley (free ebook reader for pc .txt) 📖

She wep' and cried and cried and wep', and I wep' with her, my snowy handkerchief held in one hand, the other hand tenderly caressin' the bowed head in my lap. But as she said the word Silence it brung up sunthin' I had read that very day, and I sez:

"Dear, did you ever hear of enterin' into the Silence?"

"Yes," sez Molly, liftin' her tear wet, sweet face, "I have a friend who enters into the Silence for hours, and she says that everything she greatly desires and asks for at that time, is given her. She calls it the New Thought."

"And I call it the Old Thought, Molly, older than the creation of man. And what they call Entering into the Silence, I call Waiting on the Lord. And what I call prayer, they, from what I read, most probable call waking up the solar plexus, whatever that may be. But it don't make much difference what a thing is called, the name is but a pale shadow compared to the reality. Disciples of the New Thought, Christian Scientists, Healers, Spiritualists, etc., are, I believe, reaching out and feeling for the Light as posies growin' in a dark suller send out little pale shoots huntin' for the sunlight. And so I feel kinder soft and meller towards the hull caboodle on 'em though I can't foller all their beliefs.

"For I, as a member of the M.E. meetin' house, call this great beneficient over-rulin' Power that sot the world spinnin' on its axletrees and holds it up, lest it dashes aginst the planets, and directs the flight of the tiny bird fleeing before the snows; this Mighty Force that controls us from the cradle to the grave, but which we cannot see no more than we can see His servants, the cold and wind that freezes us or the warmth and love that blesses us. This Power, that whether we scoff or pray, holds us all in the hollow of His mighty hand, I call God the Father, Son and Holy Guest, and believe it once took mortal shape and dwelt with humanity to uplift and bless it. And that love, that torture, crucifixion and death could not slay still yearns over this sad old world, still as the comforting Guest makes its home in human hearts that love and trust."

Molly sot still with her pretty head leaning aginst me and I went on, "In the story of His life and death, that volume that holds the wisdom of the old and ripened glory of the new, that holy book sez, 'He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most high shall abide under shadow of the Almighty.'

"What a place to abide in, Molly, the shadow of the All Loving, the All Mighty one, a shadow that casts glowing light instead of darkness like our earthly shadows, a pure white light in which, lookin' through the eye-glass of faith we can read the meanin' of all the sorrows and perplexities and troubles he permits us to endure, and find every word on 'em gilt edged with glory.

"Spiritualists, Christian Healers, etc., may name this what they will. Disciples of the New Thought may call it the Silence, but I shall keep right on callin' it the Secret Place of the Most High. And He who inhabits that sacred place has promised that if you reverently and obediently enter and dwell therein and trust in Him, He will give you the desire of your heart.

"So all you've got to do, Molly, is to do as he tells you to, obey and trust Him jest as the child trusts his pa, and asks him for what he wants most, you must ask Him for the desire of your heart, and if it is best for you, dear, He will bring it to pass."

"Do you think so?" sez she, brightenin' up more'n considerable.

"No, I don't think so. I know it."

Well, them consolin' words, for thought is a real thing, and I jest wropped her round with my tenderness and compassion, I guess they comforted her some, 'tennyrate she promised me sweetly that she would obey and trust, and I felt considerable better about her.

I wuz sorry for her as sorry as I could be, but I had a strong feelin' inside of my heart (mebby some wise, sweet angel whispered it to me) that everything would come out right in the end, and Molly would git the desire of her heart.

She's belonged to the meetin' house for years. But sometimes members git some shock that jars 'em and sends 'em out of the narrer road for quite a spell and they git kinder lost gropin' through the dark shadders of earthly disappointment and sorrow. Nothin' but the light that streams down from above can pierce them glooms, and I knowed by the sweet light that lit up Molly's linement that her face wuz turned in the right direction and she wouldn't look sideways, behind or before, but would seek for light and help from above.

Well, for the next week we had a busy time, goin' to the Fair most every day, sometimes all together, but not stayin' together long, for most always we'd meet Professor Todd somewhere and he and Blandina would pair off together (I jest as willin' as anybody ever wuz).

Molly had a young schoolmate who lived in St. Louis, and sometimes they would spend the day together at some reception or other. But most of the time Josiah and I paid our two attentions to the Fair stiddy, a travelin' about and seein' all we could.

And one mornin' Josiah asked me before breakfast, jest as cool as if he wuz proposin' a glass of lemonade with ice in it, if I didn't want to go to Jerusalem that mornin'.

Jerusalem! City of our Lord! Oh, my soul, think on't! As he said the words I looked at him and then some distance through him and beyond, and entirely onbeknown to myself I begun to hum over that old him:

"Jerusalem the golden, with milk and honey blest,
Beneath thy contemplation sink heart and soul oppressed.
We know not, oh, we know not what joys await us there."

And Josiah broke in and sung the last line with me (or what he called singin').

"What radiancy of glory, what bliss beyond compare."

But I knowed that singin' that time of day would be apt to draw attention, specially as Josiah's singin' wuz very base and my sulferino hain't what it wuz, and I hastened to say:

"Yes, Josiah, I want to go."

Breakfast wuz kinder late that mornin', and little Dorothy come into my room, she slep' jest acrost from us, and she begun to tell me to once about a meetin' she'd been to the night before with Aunt Pheeny. And to make talk with her I asked her what the text wuz, and she sez:

"Jesus the quilt."

Josiah wuz horrified, and it did sound bad, and he begun to reprimand her sharp, but I sez:

"Tell me all about it, Dotie."

And come to find out, it wuz "Jesus the Comforter," and her little bedspread wuz sometimes called a quilt and sometimes a comforter. And I told Josiah how necessary it wuz not to condemn children before searching into their motives. But Dotie wuz evidently thinkin' about the sermon she had hearn so lately, and she went on to ask, "Was Jesus a Jew?"

And I sez, "Yes, dear."

"Why," sez she, "I always thought Dod wuz a Presbyterium."

That wuz her Aunty Huff's persuasion, which she nachully thought couldn't be improved on.

Dotie had a little straw hat on that time o' day and I asked her what it wuz for, and she sez, "Oh, I carry my papers in it, I'm writin' a book."

Grandpa Huff always carried papers in his hat, and she copied him. I asked her what her book wuz about, and how she wuz gittin' on with it and she said:

"It wuz about a lady, a buggler and a ghost, and I've killed 'em all and that's as fur as I've got."

Killin' a ghost! a burglar and a heroine, I thought what a noble start for a sensational novel.

But the breakfast bell rung jest then, and I took the little warm hand in mine and led her down to breakfast.

Well, after breakfast Josiah and I sot out in good season for Jerusalem.

Molly wanted to go to the British Building to see a school friend of hern that she thought might be there, and Blandina offered to accompany her. They wuz goin' to stop at a number of places on the way, and we agreed to meet at noon sharp at the English Building.

We went into the walled city of Jerusalem by the Jaffa Gate, through a tall arched entrance in the stun wall. Within wuz lots of carriages and horses and camels and donkeys and men, wimmen and children, some in strange and startlin' costooms, but the first thing Josiah spoke on wuz the name of a restaurant, "A Fast," it wuz over a door clost by.

"A fast," sez he, "that don't look very encouragin' in a eatin' house.
If it wuz Brek Fast it would look more hopeful."

"You've had your breakfast, Josiah, and a good one. Don't be thinkin' of vittles so much in such a place as this."

"I shall think of what I'm a minter, and you can't break it up, mom!"

Truly he spoke the truth; I could cling to his arm, drink out of the same cup, set in the same chair, lay my head on the same piller, and yet, he might be millions of milds from me in sperit, 'round with other wimmen for all I knew. Queer, hain't it?

Yes, he wuz thinkin' of food right here in this Holy City. As for me, a perfect troop of lofty emotions wuz sweepin' through my mind, as I looked 'round me on the very same seen our Lord had looked at. Low old-fashioned stun housen such as He might have entered in, men and wimmen clad in long robes such as He wore.

And to think of seein' the Via Dolorosa, the Way of Sorrows, that He walked, carryin' the agony of humanity, and the pityin' compassion of divinity.

And the Nine Stations of the Cross where our Lord stopped to rest on that bitter journey, toiling up the steep hill carrying up the heavy cross and the woes and sins of the world, awful! beautiful Calvary! sacred, heart-breaking, holy place. How my soul burnt within me thinkin' of all this as I stood in the Holy City.

And there wuz the Tower of David, the Shepherd king. I always liked David, though I could advised him for his good in lots of things. He didn't do right by Ury, and he ortn't to had so many wives, if he'd scrimped himself a little in 'em, mebby his son, Solomon, wouldn't had so many, and one is enough, as I told Josiah.

"Yes," sez he with intense conviction in his tone. "One wife is enough for any man, heaven knows, and anybody that hankers after more than one is a fool!"

I didn't really like his axent; he'd been layin' it up, I guess what I said about vittles, but I didn't mind it.

And we went through the different quarters of the city. The little stores and bazars by the side of the street wuz full of real nice things to sell, rich Eastern woven goods, embroideries, cushions, curtains, rugs, lamps, jewels, ornaments, trinkets of all kinds, etc., etc. There is more than a hundred of these little booths and stores in Jerusalem, and all full of handsome things. I loved to look at 'em, though Josiah tried to draw me away.

Sez he, "You don't want to buy here; you can do as well agin in Jonesville tradin' off your butter and eggs, and probable git a chromo throwed in."

I didn't argy, but I bought a string of beads for Tirzah Ann and a pipe for Thomas J., the wood of which growed on the Mount of Olives, so the man said.

I told Josiah they would prize 'em high havin' come from Jerusalem.

And he said, "They never see Jerusalem," he said they wuz growed over in New Jersey, and when I asked him how he knew, he said he re_cog_nized the berries and the grain of the wood.

But he couldn't no such thing,