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

she, “I paid 300 dollars for this dress, and it haint likely I am goin’ to miss the chance of showin’ it off to the other wimmen who will envy me the possession of it. To be sure,” says she, “it is a little lower than Americans usually wear. But in fashion, as in anything else, somebody has got to go ahead. This is the very heighth of fashion,” says she.

Says I in witherin’ and burnin’ skorn, “It is the heighth of immodesty.”

And I jest turned my back right ont’ her, and sailed out of the room. I wuzn’t a a goin’ to stand that, lawsuit or no lawsuit. I wuz all worked up in my mind, and by the side of myself, and I didn’t get over it for some time, neither.

Wall, I found my companion seated in that comfertable place, and a keepin’ my chair for me, and so I sot down by him, and truly we sot still, and see the glory, and the magnificence on every side on us. There wuz 3 piazzas about as long as from our house to Jonesville, or from Jonesville to Loontown, all filled with folks magnificently dressed, and a big garden layin’ between ’em about as big as from our house to Miss Gowdey’s, and so round crossways to Alminy Hagidone’s brother’s, and back agin’. It wuz full as fur as that, and you know well that that is a great distance.

There wuz some big noble trees, all twinklin’ full of lights, of every coler, and rows of shinin’ lights, criss-crossed every way, or that is, every beautiful way, from the high ornimental pillers of the immense house, that loomed up in the distance round us on every side, same as the mountains loom up round Loontown.

There wuz a big platform built in the middle of the garden, with sweet music discoursin’ from it the most enchantin’ strains. And the fountains wuz sprayin’ out the most beautiful colers you ever see in your life, and fallin’ down in pink, and yellow, and gold, and green, and amber, and silver water; sparklin’ down onto the green beautiful ferns and flowers that loved to grow round the big marble basin which shone white, risin’ out of the green velvet of the grass.

Josiah looked at that water, and sez he, “Samantha, I’d love to get some of that water to pass round evenin’s when we have company.” Sez he, “It would look so dressy and fashionable to pass round pink water, or light blue, or light yeller. How it would make Uncle Nate Gowdey open his eyes. I believe I shall buy some bottles of it, Samantha, to take home. What do you say? I don’t suppose it would cost such a dretful sight, do you?”

Sez he, “I s’pose all they have to do is to put pumps down into a pink spring, or a yeller one, as the case may be, and pump. And I would be willin’ to pump it up myself, if it would come cheaper.”

But my companion soon forgot to follow up the theme in lookin’ about him onto the magnificent, seen, and a seein’ the throngs of men and wimmen growin’ more and more denser, and every crowd on ’em that swept by us, and round us, and before us, a growin’ more gorgus in dress, or so it seemed to us. Gemms of every gorgus coler under the heavens and some jest the coler of the heavens when it is blue and shinin’ or when it is purplish dark in the night time, or when it is full of white fleecy clouds, or when it is a shinin’ with stars.

Why, one woman had so many diamonds on that she had a detective follerin’ her all round wherever she went. She wuz a blaze of splendor and so wuz lots of ’em, though like the stars, they differed from each other in glory.

But whatever coler their gowns wuz, in one thing they wuz most all alike—most all of ’em had waists all drawed in tight, but a bulgin’ out on each side, more or less as the case might be. Why some of them waists wuzn’t much bigger than pipe’s tails and so I told Josiah.

And he whispered back to me, and sez he, “I wonder if them wimmen with wasp waists, think that we men like the looks on ’em. They make a dumb mistake if they do. Why,” sez he, “we men know what they be; we know they are nothin’ but crushed bones and flesh.” Sez he, “I could make my own waist look jest like ’em, if I should take a rope and strap myself down.”

“Wall,” sez I, in agitated axents, “don’t you try to go into no such enterprise, Josiah Allen.”

I remembered the eppisode of the afternoon, and I sez in anxins axents, and affectionate, “Besides not lookin’ well, it is dangerous, awful dangerous. And how I should blush,” sez I, “if I wuz to see you with a leather strap or a rope round your waist under your coat, a drawin’ you in ; a changin’ your good honerable shape. And God made men’s and wimmen’s waists jest alike in the first place, and it is jest as smart for men to deform themselves in that way as it is for wimmen. But oh, the agony of my soul if I should see you a tryin’ to disfigure yourself in that way.”

“You needn’t be afraid, Samantha,” sez he, “I am dressy, and always wuz, but I haint such a fool as that, as to kill myself in perfect agony, for fashion.”

I didn’t say nothin’ but instinctively I looked down at his feet, “Oh, you needn’t look at my feet, Samantha, feet are very different from the heart, and lungs, and such. You can squeeze your feet down, and not hurt much moren the flesh and bones. But you are a destroyin’ the very seat of life when you draw your waist in as them wimmen do.”

“I know it,” sez I, “but I wouldn’t torture myself in any way if I wuz in your place.”

“I don’t lay out to,” sez he. “I haint a goin’ to wear corsets, it haint at all probable I shall, though I am better able to stand it, than wimmen be.”

“I know that,” sez I. “I know men are stronger and better able to bear the strain of bein’ drawed in and tapered.” I am reesonable, and will ever speak truthful and honest, and this I couldn’t deny and didn’t try to.

“Wall, dumb it, what makes men stronger?” sez he.

“Why,” sez I, “I s’pose one great thing is their dressin’ comfortable.”

“Wall, I am glad you know enough to know it,” sez he. “Why,” sez he, “jest imagine a man tyin’ a rope round his waist, round and round; or worse yet, take strong steel, and whalebones, and bind and choke himself down with ’em, and tottlin’ himself up on high heel slippers, the high heels comin’ right up in the ball of his foot—and then havin’ heavy skirts a holdin’ him down, tied back tight round his knees and draggin’ along on the ground at his feet—imagine me in that perdickerment, Samantha.”

I shuddered, and sez I, “Don’t bring up no such seen to harrow up my nerve.” Sez I, “You know I couldn’t stand it, to see you a facin’ life and its solemn responsibilities in that condition. It would kill me to witness your sufferin’,” sez I. And agin’ I shuddered, and agin I sithed.

And he sez, “Wall, it is jest as reasonable for a man to do it as for a woman; it is far worse and more dangerous for a woman than a man.”

“I know it,” sez I, between my sithes. “I know it, but I can’t, I can’t stand it, to have you go into it.”

“Wall, you needn’t worry, Samantha, I haint a fool. You won’t ketch men a goin’ into any such performances as this, they know too much.” And then he resumed on in a lighter agent, to get my mind still further off from his danger, for I wuz still a sithin’, frequent and deep.

Sez he, as he looked down and see some wimmen a passin’ below; sez hey “I never see such a sight in my life, a man can see more here in one evenin’ than he can in a life time at Jonesville.”

“That is so, Josiah,” sez I, “you can.” And I felt every word I said, for at that very minute a lady, or rather a female woman, passed with a dress on so low in the neck that I instinctively turned away my head, and when I looked round agin, a deep blush wuz mantlin’ the cheeks of Josiah Allen, a flushin’ up his face, clear up into his bald head.

I don’t believe I had ever been prouder of Josiah Allen, than I wuz at that minute. That blush spoke plainer than words could, of the purity and soundness of my pardner’s morals. If the whole nation had stood up in front of me at that time, and told me his morals wuz a tottlin’ I would have scorned the suggestion. No, that blush telegraphed to me right from his soul, the sweet tidin’s of his modesty and worth.

And I couldn’t refrain from sayin’ in encouragin’, happy axents, “Haint you glad now, Josiah Allen, that you listened to your pardner; haint you glad that you haint a goin’ round in a low necked coat and vest, a callin’ up the blush of skern and outraged modesty to the cheeks ‘of noble and modest men?”

“Yes,” sez he, graspin’ holt of my hand in the warmth of his gratitude, for he see what I had kep’ him from. “Yes, you wuz in the right on’t, Samantha. I see the awfulness of the peril from which you rescued of me. But never,” sez he, a lookin’ down agin over the railin’, onto some more wimmen a passin’ beneath, “never did I see what I have seen here to-night. Not,” sez he dreemily, “sense I wuz a baby.”

“Wall,” sez I, “don’t try to look, Josiah; turn your eyes away.”

And I believe he did try to—though such is the fascination of a known danger in front of you, that it is hard to keep yourself from contemplatin’ of it. But he tried to. And he tried to not look at the waltzin’ no more than he could help, and I did too. But in spite of himself he had to see how clost the young girls wuz held; how warmly the young men embraced ’em. And as he looked on, agin I see the hot blush of shame mantillied Josiah’s cheeks, and again he sez to me in almost warm axents, “I realize what you have rescued me from, Samantha.”

And I sez, “You couldn’t have looked Elder Minkley in the face, could you? if you had gone into that shameful diversion.”

“No, I couldn’t, nor into yourn nuther. I couldn’t have looked nobody in the face, if I had gone on and imposed on any young girl as they are a doin’, and insulted of her. Why,” sez he, “if it wuz my Tirzah Ann that them, men wuz a embracin’, and huggin’, and switchin’ her round, as if they didn’t have no respect for her at all,—why, if it wuz Tirzah Ann, I would tear ’em ’em from lim.”

And he looked capable on’t. He looked almost sublime (though small). And I hurried him away from the seen, for I didn’t know what would ensue and foller on, if I let him linger there longer. He looked as firm and warlike as one of our bantam fowls, a male one, when hawks are a hoverin’ over the females of the flock. And when I say Bantam I say it with no disrespect to Josiah Allen. Bantams are noble, and warlike fowls, though small boneded.

I got one more glimps of Miss Flamm jest as we left the tarven. She wuz a standin’ up in the parlor, with a tall man a standin’ up in front of her a talkin’. He seemed to be biddin’ of her good-bye, for he had holt of her hand, and be wuz a sayin’ as we went by ’em, sez he, “I am sorry not to see more of you.”

“Good land!” thinkses I, “what can the man be a thinkin’ on? the mean, miserable creeter! If there wuz ever a deadly insult gin to a woman, then wuz the time it wuz gin. Good land! good land!”

I don’t know whether Miss Flamm resented it, or not, for I hurried Josiah along. I didn’t want to expose him to no sich sights, good, innocent old creeter. So I kep’ him up on a pretty good jog till I got him home.

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