Volume I Part 15 (2/2)

”Wal, then, stand still, and not be a-caperin' round so. How do you s'pose I can do anything with you a-tossin' round so?”

”Wal, don't be so aggravatin', then.”

I fixed 'em as well as I could, but they looked pretty bad, and there they was all covered with jell, too. What to do I didn't know. But finally I told him I would put my shawl onto him. So I doubled it up corner-ways as big as I could, so it almost touched the ground behind, and he walked back to the table with me. I told him it was best to tell the company all about it, but he just put his foot down that he wouldn't, and I told him if he wouldn't that he must make his own excuses to the company about wearin' the shawl. So he told 'em he always loved to wear summer shawls; he thought it made a man look so dressy.

But he looked as if he would sink all the time he was a-sayin' it. They all looked dretful curious at him, and he looked as meachin' as if he had stole sheep--and meachin'er--and he never took a minute's comfort, nor I nuther. He was sick all the way back to the sh.o.r.e, and so was I.

And jest as we got into our wagons and started for home, the rain began to pour down. The wind turned our old umberell inside out in no time. My lawn dress was most spilte before, and now I give up my bonnet. And I says to Josiah:

”This bonnet and dress are spilte, Josiah Allen, and I shall have to buy some new ones.”

”Wal, wal! who said you wouldn't?” he snapped out.

But it were on him. Oh, how the rain poured down! Josiah, havin' nothin'

but a handkerchief on his head, felt it more than I did. I had took a ap.r.o.n to put on a-gettin' dinner, and I tried to make him let me pin it on his head. But says he, firmly:

”I hain't proud and haughty, Samantha, but I do feel above ridin' out with a pink ap.r.o.n on for a hat.”

”Wal, then,” says I, ”get as wet as sop, if you had ruther.”

I didn't say no more, but there we jest sot and suffered. The rain poured down; the wind howled at us; the old mare went slow; the rheumatiz laid holt of both of us; and the thought of the new bonnet and dress was a-wearin' on Josiah, I knew.

There wasn't a house for the first seven miles, and after we got there I thought we wouldn't go in, for we had got to get home to milk anyway, and we was both as wet as we could be. After I had beset him about the ap.r.o.n, we didn't say hardly a word for as much as thirteen miles or so; but I did speak once, as he leaned forward, with the rain drippin' offen his bandanna handkerchief onto his blue pantaloons. I says to him in stern tones:

”Is this pleasure, Josiah Allen?”

He give the old mare a awful cut and says he: ”I'd like to know what you want to be so aggravatin' for?”

I didn't multiply any more words with him, only as we drove up to our doorstep, and he helped me out into a mud-puddle, I says to him:

”Mebbe you'll hear to me another time, Josiah Allen.”

And I'll bet he will. I hain't afraid to bet a ten-cent bill that that man won't never open his mouth to me again about a pleasure exertion.

A simple-hearted and truly devout country preacher, who had tasted but few of the drinks of the world, took dinner with a high-toned family, where a gla.s.s of milk punch was quietly set down by each plate. In silence and happiness this new Vicar of Wakefield quaffed his goblet, and then added, ”Madam, you should daily thank G.o.d for such a good cow.”

EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN

THE DIAMOND WEDDING

O Love! Love! Love! What times were those, Long ere the age of belles and beaux, And Brussels lace and silken hose, When, in the green Arcadian close, You married Psyche under the rose, With only the gra.s.s for bedding!

Heart to heart, and hand to hand, You followed Nature's sweet command, Roaming lovingly through the land, Nor sighed for a Diamond Wedding.

So have we read in cla.s.sic Ovid, How Hero watched for her beloved, Impa.s.sioned youth, Leander.

She was the fairest of the fair, And wrapt him round with her golden hair, Whenever he landed cold and bare, With nothing to eat and nothing to wear, And wetter than any gander; For Love was Love, and better than money; The slyer the theft, the sweeter the honey; And kissing was clover, all the world over, Wherever Cupid might wander.

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