Samantha Among the Brethren, Complete by Marietta Holley (the reader ebook .txt) đź“–
- Author: Marietta Holley
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Wall, we had our troubles, Josiah and me did. Trueman's wife wuz dretful disagreeable, and would argue us down, every separate thing we tried to do or say. And she seemed more high-headed and disagreeable than ever sence Joe had begun to pay attention to her. Though what earthly good his attention wuz a-goin' to do, wuz more than I could see, accordin' to her belief.
But Josiah said, “he guessed Joe wouldn't have paid her any attention, if he hadn't thought that the world wuz a-comin' to a end so soon. He guessed he wouldn't want her round if it wuz a-goin' to stand.”
Sez I, “Josiah, you are a-judgin' Joe by yourself.” And he owned up that he wuz.
Wall, the mornin' of the 30th, after Josiah and me had eat our breakfast, I proceeded to mix up my bread. I had set the yeast overnight, and I wuz a mouldin' it out into tins when Trueman's wife come down-stairs with her robe over her arm. She wanted to iron it out and press the seams.
I had baked one tin of my biscuit for breakfast, and I had kep 'em warm for Trueman's wife, for she had been out late the night before to a meetin' to Risley school-house, and didn't come down to breakfast. I had also kep some good coffee warm for her, and some toast and steak.
She laid her robe down over a chair-back, and sot down to her breakfast, but begun the first thing to find fault with me for bein' to work on that day. She sez, “The idee, of the last day of the world, and you a-bein' found makin' riz biscuit, yeast ones!” sez she.
“Wall,” sez I, “I don't know but I had jest as soon be found a-makin' riz biscuit, a-takin' care of my own household, as the Lord hes commanded me to, as to be found a-sailin' round in a book muslin Mother Hubbard.”
“It hain't a Mother Hubbard!” sez she.
“Wall,” sez I, “I said it for oritory. But it is puckered up some like them, and you know it.” Hers wuz made with a yoke.
And Josiah sot there a-fixin' his plantin' bag. He wuz a-goin' out that mornin' to plant over some corn that the crows had pulled up. And she bitterly reproved him. But he sez, “If the world don't come to a end, the corn will be needed.”
“But it will,” she sez in a cold, haughty tone.
“Wall,” sez he, “if it does, I may as well be a-doin' that as to be settin' round.” And he took his plantin' bag and went out. And then she jawed me for upholdin' him.
And sez she, as she broke open a biscuit and spread it with butter previous to eatin' it, sez she, “I should think respect, respect for the great and fearful thought of meetin' the Lord, would scare you out of the idea of goin' on with your work.”
Sez I calmly, “Does it scare you, Trueman's wife?”
“Wall, not exactly scare,” sez she, “but lift up, lift up far above bread and other kitchen work.”
And again she buttered a large slice, and I sez calmly, “I don't s'poze I should be any nearer the Lord than I am now. He sez He dwells inside of our hearts, and I don't see how He could get any nearer to us than that. And anyway, what I said to you I keep a-sayin', that I think He would approve of my goin' on calm and stiddy, a-doin' my best for the ones He put in my charge here below, my husband, my children, and my grandchildren.” (I some expected Tirzah Ann and the babe home that day to dinner.)
“Wall, you feel very diffrent from some wimmen that wuz to the school-house last night, and act very diffrent. They are good Christian females. It is a pity you wuzn't there. P'raps your hard heart would have melted, and you would have had thoughts this mornin' that would soar up above riz biscuit.”
And as she sez this she begun on her third biscuit, and poured out another cup of coffee. And I, wantin' to use her well, sez, “What did they do there?”
“Do!” sez she, “why, it wuz the most glorious meetin' we ever had. Three wimmen lay at one time perfectly speechless with the power. And some of em' screemed so you could hear 'em fer half a mile.”
I kep on a-mouldin' my bread out into biscuit (good shaped ones, too, if I do say it), and sez calmly, “Wall, I never wuz much of a screemer. I have always believed in layin' holt of the duty next to you, and doin' some things, things He has commanded. Everybody to their own way. I don't condemn yourn, but I have always seemed to believe more in the solid, practical parts of religion, than the ornimental. I have always believed more in the power of honesty, truth, and justice, than in the power they sometimes have at camp and other meetins. Howsumever,” sez I, “I don't say but what that power is powerful, to the ones that have it, only I wuz merely observin' that it never wuz my way to lay speechless or holler much—not that I consider hollerin' wrong, if you holler from principle, but I never seemed to have a call to.”
“You would be far better if you did,” sez Trueman's wife, “far better. But you hain't good enough.”
“Oh!” sez I, reasonably, “I could holler if I wanted to, but the Lord hain't deef. He sez specilly, that He hain't, and so I never could see the use in hollerin' to Him. And I never could see the use of tellin' Him in public so many things as some do. Why He knows it. He knows all these things. He don't need to have you try to enlighten Him as if you wuz His gardeen—as I have heard folks do time and time agin. He knows what we are, what we need. I am glad, Trueman's wife,” sez I, “that He can look right down into our hearts, that He is right there in 'em a-knowin' all about us, all our wants, our joys, our despairs, our temptations, our resolves, our weakness, our blindness, our defects, our regrets, our remorse, our deepest hopes, our inspiration, our triumphs, our glorys. But when He is right there, in the midst of our soul, our life, why, why should we kneel down in public and holler at Him?”
“You would be glad to if you wuz good enough,” sez she; “if you had attained unto a state of perfection, you would feel like it.”
That kinder riled me up, and I sez, “Wall, I have lived in this house with them that wuz perfect, and that is bad enough for me, without bein' one of 'em myself. For more disagreeable creeters,” sez I, a prickin' my biscuit with a fork, “more disagreeable creeters
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