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

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Author: Marietta Holley

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with lightnin’, whose whispers reach round the world, and through the Ocean? You haint see ’em, nor I haint, No, Josiah Allen, we don’t know much of anything, and we don’t know that for certain. We are all on us only poor pupils down in the Earth’s school-room, learnin’ with difficulty and heart ache the lessons God sets for us.

Tough old Experience gives us many a hard floggin’, before we learn the day’s lessons. And we find the benches hard, long before sundown. And it makes our hearts ache to see the mates we love droop their too tired heads in sleep, all round us before school is out. But we grind on at our lessons, as best we may. Learnin’ a little maybe. Havin’ to onlearn a sight, as the pinters move on towards four. Clasping hands with fellow toilers and (hard task) onclaspin’ ’em, as they go up above us, or down nearer the foot. Havin’ little ‘intermissions’ of enjoyment, soon over. But we plod on, on, and bimeby—and sometimes we think we do not care how soon—the teacher will say to us, that we can be ‘dismissed.’ And then we shall drop out of the rank of learners, and the school will go without us, jest as busily, jest as cheerfully, jest as laboriously, jest as sadly. Poor learners at the hard lessons of life. Learnin’ out of a book that is held out to us from the shadows by an onseen, inexorable hand. Settin’ on hard benches that may fall out from under us at any time. Poor ignerent creeters that we are, would it not be a too arrant folly for us to judge each other hardly, we, all on us, so deplorably ignerent, so weakly helpless?”

Sez Josiah, in earnest axcents, “Le’s walk a little faster.”

And, in lookin’ up, I see that he wuz readin’ a advertisement. I ketched sight of a picture ornamentin’ of it. It wuz Lydia Pinkham. And as I see that benine face, I found and recovered myself. Truly, I had been a soarin’ up, up, fur above Saratoga, Patent Medicines, Josiah Allen, etc., etc.

But when I found myself by the side of Josiah Allen once more, I moved onwards in silence, and soon we found ourselves right by the haven where I desired to be,—our own tried and true boardin’ house.

Truly eloquence is tuckerin’, very, especially when you are a soarin’ and a walkin’ at the same time.

Chapter XIX.
ST. CHRISTINA’S HOME.

Wall, it wuz that very afternoon, almost immegetly after dinner, that Josiah Allen invited me warmly to go with him to the Roller Coaster. And I compromised the matter by his goin’ with us first to St. Christina’s Home, and then, I told him, I would proceed with him to the place where he would be. They wuz both on one road, nigh to each other, and he consented after some words.

I felt dretfully interested in this Home, for it is a place where poor little sick children are took to, out of their miserable, stiflin’, dirty garrets, and cellars, and kep’ and made well and happy in their pleasant, home-like surroundin’s. And I thought to myself, as I looked ont on the big grounds surroundin’ it, and walked through the clean wide rooms, that the change to these children, brought out of their narrow dark homes of want and woe, into this great sunshiny Home with its clean fresh rooms, its good food, its cheery Christian atmosphere, its broad sunshiny playgrounds, must seem like enterin’ Paradise to ’em.

And I thought to myself how thankful I wuz that this pleasant House Beautiful, wuz prepared for the rest and refreshment of the poor little pilgrims, worn out so early in the march of life. And I further thinkses I, “Heaven bless the kind heart that first thought on’t, and carried out the heavenly idee.”

The children’s faces all looked, so happy, and bright, it wuz a treat to see ’em. And the face of the sister who showed us round the rooms looked as calm, and peaceful, and happy, as if her face wuz the sun from which their little lights wuz reflected.

Up amongst the rooms overhead, every one on ’em clean as a pin and sweet and orderly, wuz one room that specially attracted my attention. It wuz a small chapel where the little ones wuz took to learn their prayers and say ’em. It wuzn’t a big, barren barn of a room, such as I have often seen in similar places, and which I have always thought must impress the children with a awful sense of the immensity and lonesomeness of space, and the intangebility, and distance of the Great Spirit who inhabiteth Eternity. No, it wuz small, and cozy, and cheerful, like a home. And the stained glass window held a beautiful picture of love and charity, which might well touch the children’s hearts, sweetly and unconsciously, with the divine worth of love, and beauty, and goodness.

And I could fancy the dear, little ones kneelin’ here, and prayin’ “Our Father, who art in Heaven,” and feelin’ that He wuz indeed their Father, and not a stranger, and that Heaven wuz not fur off from ’em.

And I thought to myself “Never! never! through all their life will they get entirely away from the pure, sweet lessons they learn here.”

I enjoyed the hour I spent here with a deep, heart enjoyment, and so did Josiah. Or, that is, I guess he did, though he whispered to me from time to time, or even oftener, as we went through the buildin’, that we wuz a devourin’ time that we might be spendin’ at the Roller Coaster.

Wall, at last, greatly to my pardner’s satisfaction, we sot out for the place where he fain would be. On our way there we roamed through another Indian Encampment, a smaller one than that where we had the fearful incident of the Mermaid and Sarah.

No, it wuzn’t so big, but it had many innocent diversions and a photograph gallery, and other things for its comfert. And a standin’ up a leanin’ aginst a tree, by one of the little houses stood a Injun. He wuz one of the last left of his tribe. He seemed to be a lookin’ pensively on—and seein’ how the land that had belonged to ’em, the happy huntin’-grounds, the springs they believed the Great Spirit had gin to ’em, had all passed away into the bands of another race.

I wuz sorry for that Injun, real sorry. And thinkses I to myself, we feel considerable pert now, and lively, but who knows in another three or four hundred years, but what one of the last of our race, may be a leanin’ up aginst some new tree, right in the same spot, a watchin’ the old places passed away into other hands, mebby black hands, or some other colored ones; mebby yellow ones, who knows? I don’t, nor Josiah don’t. But my pardner wuz a hurryin’ me on, so I dropped my revery and my umberell in my haste to foller on after his footsteps.

Josiah picked up my umberell, but he couldn’t pick up my soarin’ emotions for me. No, he haint never been able, to get holt of ’em. But suffice it to say, that soon, preceded by my companion, I found myself a mountin’ the nearly precipitus stairs, that led to the Roller Coaster.

And havin’ reached the spot, who should we find there but Ardelia Tutt and Bial Flamburg. They had been on the Roller Coaster seven times in succession, and the car. And they wuz now a sittin’ down to recooperate their energies, and collect their scattered wits together. The Roller Coaster is very scatterin’ to wits that are not collected firm and sound, and cemented by strong common sense.

The reason why the Roller Coaster don’t scatter such folkses wits is supposed to be because, they don’t go on to it. Ardelia looked as if her idees wuz scattered to the four pints of the compass. As for Bial, it seemed to me, as if he never had none to scatter. But he spoke out to once, and said, he didn’t care to ride on ’em. (Bial Flamburg’s strong pint, is his truthfulness, I can’t deny that.)

Ardelia wouldn’t own up but what she enjoyed it dretfully. You know folks are most always so. If they partake of a pleasure and recreation that is doubtful in its effects, they will always say, what a high extreme of enjoyment they enjoyed a partakin’ of it. Curius, haint it? Wall, Josiah had been anticipatin’ so much enjoyment from the exercise, that I didn’t make no move to prevent him from embarkin’ on it—though it looked hazardous and dangerous in the extreme.

I looked down on the long valleys, and precipitous heights of the assents and desents, in which my pardner wuz so soon to be assentin’ and desentin’ and I trembled, and wuz jest about to urge him to forego his diversion, for the sake of his pardner’s happiness, but as I turned to expostulate with him, I see the beautiful, joyous, hopeful look on his liniment, and the words fell almost dead on my tongue. I felt that I had ruther suffer in silence than to say one word to mar that bliss.

Such is the love of pardners, and such is some of the agonies they suffer silently to save from woundin’ the more opposite one. No, I said not a word; but silently sat, and see him makin’ his preparations to embark. He see the expression onto my face, and he too wuz touched by it. He never said one word to me about embarkin’ too, which I laid to two reasons. One wuz my immovable determination not to embark on the voyage, which I had confided to him before.

And the other wuz, the added expenses of the journey if he took his companion with him.

No, I felt that he thought it wuz better we should part temporarily than that the expenditure should be doubled. But as the time drew near for him to leave me, I see by his meen that he felt bad about leavin’ me. He realized what a companion I had been to him. He realized the safety and repose he had always found at my side and the unknown dangers he wuz a rushin’ into.

And he got up and silently shook hands with me. He would have kissed me, I make no doubt, if folks hadn’t been a standin’ by. He then embarked, and with lightnin’ speed wuz bore away from me, as he dissapeared down the desent, his few gray hairs waved back, and as he went over the last precipitus hill, I heard him cry out in agonizin’ axents, “Samantha! Samantha!”

And I rushed forwards to his rescue but so lightnin’ quick wuz their movements that I met my companion a comin’ back, and I sez, the first thing, “I heard your cry, Josiah! I rushed to save you, my dear pardner.”

“Yes,” sez he, “I spoke out to you, to call your attention to the landscape, over the woods there!”

I looked at him in a curious, still sort of a way, and didn’t say nothin’ only just that look. Why, that man looked all trembly and broke up, but he kep’ on.

“Yes, it wuz beautiful and inspirin’, and I knew you wuz such a case for landscapes, I thought I would call your attention to it.”

Sez I, coldly, “You wuz skairt, Josiah Allen, and you know it.”

“Skairt! the idee of me bein’ skairt. I wuz callin’ your attention to the beauty of the view, over in the woods.”

“What wuz it?” sez I, still more coldly; for I can’t bear deceit, and coverin’ up.

“Oh, it wuz a house, and a tree, and a barn, and things.”

“A great seen to scream about,” sez I. “It would probable have stood there till you got back, but you couldn’t seem to wait.”

“No, I have noticed that you always wanted to see things to once. I have noticed it in you.”

“I could most probable have waited till you got back, to see a house and a tree.” And in still more—frigid axents, I added, “Or a barn.” And I sez, kinder sarkastikly, “You enjoyed your ride, I s’pose.”

“Immensely, it wuz perfectly beautiful! So sort a free and soarin’ like. It is jest what suits a man.”

“You’d better go right over it agin,” sez I.

“Yes,” sez the man who runs the cars. “You’d better go agin.”

“Oh no,” sez Josiah.

“Why not?” sez I.

“Why not?” sez the man.

Josiah Allen looked all around the room, and down on the grass, as if trying to find a good reasonable excuse a layin’ round loose somewhere, so’s he could

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