Thinks I to myself, “Good land! was there ever such a clever critter on earth?” I handed him a clean towel, and told him I was sorry. But he smiled, and said, “it wasn’t any matter,” and wiped his sweetly smilin’ face, and handed the towel back smilin’.

The other feller never said a word, though one of the eggs broke onto the legs of his white pantaloons. Jest at this crisis, a tall man with whiskers came up, and said somethin’ to ’em, and they got up and went to the other end of the car, where there was a lot of smart lookin’ men. As they went by me the clever feller slipped on a piece of orange peel, and a most fell. But if you will believe it, the critter smiled.

I see that all of them smart lookin’ men acted dreadful reverential towards the two, and I says to a bystander behind me, “Can you tell me sir who that clever critter is, and the other one?” Says he, “That is Skyler Colfax, and General Grant.”

I rose right up in my seat, for at the mention of them two honored names, such emotions rushed onto me—that it drownded out fear, and all the shrinkin’ bashfulness of my sect, and I forgot in that wrapped moment that I wasn’t Josiah, and I advanced right onwards towards them two noble men. Every man round ’em see the lofty expression onto my face, and kinder fell back, and I walked right up and gripped Skylers’es hand with one of mine, while I held my umbrell in the other tremblin’ with emotion.

“Skyler, I am glad Tirzah Ann took ’em out too quick.”

He didn’t know what I meant, but that blessed man smiled, and agin I spoke in the same tremblin’ tones.

“I am glad they was rare done.”

Agin he smiled, and agin I spoke, and I mastered my feelin’s, with a effort, and spoke out loud and clear,

“The hen that laid them eggs, never shall do another day’s work as long as my name is Josiah Allen’s wife. I know jest which one laid ’em, for old speckle face’s eggs are so big that we always keep ’em for our own use.” Says I, “it makes me proud and happy to think I am the owner of that hen, for if it hadn’t been for them eggs, I never should have felt so well acquainted with you. If it hadn’t been for them eggs that broke onto your good and honored face, I never should have had the privilege of graspin’ holt of your hand and sayin’ to you what I now say, that though goodness and patience and faithfulness may be made light of by some, they are jest what is goin’ to carry Uncle Sam triumphant onward, with a smilin’ face, when the egg shells of uncivil war break on his honest face, and thier yelks run down into his whiskers.”

Here my feelin’s almost overcame me agin, and as he smiled at me, and spoke kinder pleasant to me—and smiled agin, I turned silently away and grasped holt of General Grant’ses hand, and says I, in still more chokin’ accents—

“Ulysses this is a proud day for Josiah Allen’s wife,” says I, “Ulysses how do you do?”

He didn’t say nothin’ but nodded kinder pleasant to me, and I says in the same almost tremblin tones for I knew he thought every thing of his relations. “How is Mr. Dents’es folks, are they all enjoying good health?” He nodded agin kinder pleasant but didn’t say a word, and I proceeded on—

“Ulysses you have freed the land from war and bloodshed. Wherever the smoke of that peaceful cigar has smoked, it has drove before it the blood red cloud of war and treason.” But says I, “that haint the main reason why I thought you ought to be President, and so I have told Josiah. I have said to Josiah more’n a hundred times that any man or woman ought to be President that knew enough not to talk when they hadn’t nothin’ to say. But—” says I, for even in that wrapped moment stern principle was the guide of J. Allen’s wife—“That was when you was run up for President the first time; I go now for Horace Greeley, and so does Josiah.”

There haint nothin’ little and envious about Ulysses Grant, he didn’t act mad a mite, he nodded to me agin as friendly as ever, and after invitin’ them both in the name of Josiah, to make it thier home with us whenever they come to Jonesville, and sendin’ my best respects to Julia and Mr. Dents’es folks, and Skylers’es wife Elliner, I retired to my seat and sot down.

When Betsey discovered who I had been talkin’ with, she looked wild at the thought, but it didn’t rouse in her, the spontanious emotions of patrotism it did in me. If a barell has been filled up with rain water, you can’t expect to tap it and have it run strong beer. When any sudden circumstance taps folks’es minds, they will run out of ’em jest what they have been filled with, no more, no less. My mind was that filled with noble emotions of admiration and patrotism, that I entirely forgot for the minute that I was J. Allen’s wife from Jonesville. But Betsey all the while remembered B. Bobbet, she also remembered her poetry. I don’t believe a few earthquakes could make her forget that, her first words was after she recovered herself,

“I will make General Grant, that deah, sweet man, a present. Everybody does, that wants to get onto the right side of him. I will give him a piece of my poetry. If I remember rightly I have got one in my satchel bag, all printed out, with a running vine around the edges. There is 45 verses of it, and it is on the war. How fortunate that I brought it along.” And as she dove her hands into her satchel bag, she continued dreamily,

“Mebby he is that liberal and generous turn with his own folks, that after he has read it, he will give it to some of his wife’s relations. Mebby there is a few widowehs among them,” and then in a still more dreamy tone she murmured, “Betsey B. Dent, Washington, D. C.” But anon or a little after, she roused out of this revery and takin’ the poetry in her hand, she started down the car, and I bein’ tired, leaned my head back against the side of the seat, and composed myself together.

I guess I had most got into a nap, when I heard a loud wrathful, eloquent voice, seemin’ly makin’ a speech to some enimy. It started me up so that I rose right up onto my feet, and looked round, and there was that noble General, standin’ up with his hands extended, layin’ it down strong and decided. I knew what it was in ½ a minute, Betsey Bobbet had done what a five years uncivel war couldn’t do, nor a admirin’ nation of 20 million souls. She had got him to makin’ a speech, while Skyler who had smiled stidely for upwards of 40 years, stood lookin’ on with a dark and awfully gloomy frown onto him.

I stood silent for some time lost in the sorrowful feelin’s the scene called forth, and then almost overcome with my pity for them, I wended my way towards them. As I drew nearer to them, I heard his words which he was pourin’ out so eloquently and fluently, “Let us have peace, Can’t we have peace?” he was yellin’ in such harrowin’ tones, that there wasn’t hardly a dry eye in my head as I listened.

“Have I escaped from the horrible danger of war, have I survived the open bullets of my enimies, and the well meanin’ but almost fatal arrows of my friends, to expier in this way? To perish by poetry? Is there no sucker for me? Can’t we have peace?” he screamed in a loud preachin’ tone as he ketched sight of me, “Can’t we have it, say?”

He was almost delerious. But I laid my hand on his agitated elbow, and says I in soothin’ tones.

“Yes Ulysses, you shall have a piece, you shall, Josiah Allen’s wife will see to it, you shall have a piece.”

And then I leaned down and whispered a few words into Betsey Bobbett’s left ear, and she turned quicker’n a flash, and gathered up her poetry and rushed into the forward car.

As she disapeared, Skyler’ses face changed from that gloomy sinister frown, and agin he put on that smile that was upwards of 40 years old, but was still so sweet and fresh that I knew it was good for another 40 years—and the General grasped me by the hand sayin’ in agitated tones,

“There was upwards of 50 of ’em, and she would read ’em.” Says I soothingly, “I wouldn’t think of it Ulysses, it is all over now. I was glad to show the gratitude the nation owes to you. I was glad of the chance to befriend you.”

“Angel!” says he almost warmly. But I interupted him by sayin’ in a tone of dignity. “I honor and respect you deeply Ulysses—but in the two names of Julia and Josiah, I must forbid your callin’ me angel, or any other pet name.”

I knew it was only his deep gratitude to me for rescuin’ him from his peril that made him say it, for he and Julia think the world of each other. And the good solid principles, colored and morally struck in with tan bark in his early life, the muddy waters of political life haint been able to wash out, nor the gilt tinsel of fashionable life to cover up and destroy. I knew that even there in Washington Avenue, among all the big men there, he loved his wife, jest as much as if it was the fashion to love ’em. I knew all this, but still I felt that I must speak as I did, for principle with J. Allen’s wife—as I have remarked more formally—is all in all.

I then turned and followed Betsey, not knowin’ but what she would be a comin’ back. What I whispered in her left ear was this, that her back hair was comin’ down, and she bein’ so bald, I knew it would fetch her down like a arrow in her breast.

They left at the next Station House, and Betsey and me proceeded onwards to New York village with no farther coincidences.

AT NEW YORK, ASTERS’ES TAVERN.

The cars didn’t bust up nor break down, which surprised me some, but which I felt was indeed a blessin’, and at ½ past six Betsey and me stood on the platform of the depott at New York village. As we stood there I would have swapped my last new cross barred muslin night cap in my satchel bag on my arm for a pair of iron ears. I should have been glad of the loan of a old pair for 16 seconds, if I couldn’t got ’em no longer, the noise was so distractin’ and awful.

Says I to myself, “Am I Josiah Allen’s wife, or am I not?” some of the time I thought I was Josiah, I was so destracted. But though inwardly so tosted up and down, I kep’ a cool demeaniour outside of me. I stood stun still, firmly graspin’ my satchel bag, my umberell and my green cap box—with my best head dress in it, till I had collected myself together, recolected what my name was, and where I was a goin’. When my senses come back I thought to myself truly Josiah wasn’t so far out of the way when he worried over old Tammany, for of all the shameless and brazen set, on the face of the earth, that set a howlin’ round Betsey Bobbet and me was the shamelessest and brazenest.

Now I am naturaily pretty offish and retirin’ in my ways, with strange men folks. I think it is becomin’ in a woman to be so, instead of bold. Now when we sot sail from Jonesville, after we got well to ridin’, a man came through the cars, a perfect stranger to me, but he reached out his hand to shake hands with me, jest as friendly and famelier as if I was his step mother. But I didn’t ketch holt of his hand, as some wimmen would, I jest folded up my arms, and says I, coolly,

“You have got the advantage of me.”

But he never took the hint, there he stood stun still in front of me holdin’ out his hand. And seein’ there was a lot of folks lookin’ on, and not wantin’ to act odd, I kinder took holt of his hand and shook it slightly, but at the same time says,

“Who under the sun you are I don’t know—but you seem determined to get acquainted with me. Mebby you are some of his folks I haint never seen—are you related to Josiah on the Allen side or on the Daggett side?” Josiah’s mother was a Daggett.

But before I could say any more he spoke up and said all he wanted was my ticket. I was glad then I had acted offish. For as I say, I don’t believe in wimmen puttin’ themselves forward and actin’ bold. Not that that stands in the way of their modistly claimin’ their honest rights. I have seen enough boldness used by a passel of girls at one huskin’ bee, or apple cut, to supply 4 presedential elections, and the same number of female caurkusses, and then have 5 or 6 baskets full left. Havein’ these modest and reserved feelin’s in my soul—as firm as firm iron—what was my feelin’s as I stood there on that platform, when a great tall villian walked up to me and yelled right up close to my bunnet,

“Will you have a bus mom?”

If that man had the privilege of livin’ several hundred years, he would say at the last 100, that he never forgot the look I gave him as he uttered these infamous words to me. It was a look calculated to scorch a man to his very soul. It was a look calculated and designed to make a man sigh for some small knot hole to creep through and hide him from the gaze of wimmen. I’ll bet 2 cents that he won’t insult another women in that way very soon. I give him a piece of my mind that he won’t forget in a hurry. I told him plainly, “That if I wasn’t a married women and a Methodist, and, was free to kiss who I was a mind to, I had jest as lives kiss a anacondy, or a boyconstructor, as him,” and I says in conclusion, “mebby you think because Josiah haint here to protect me, you can talk to me as you are a mind to. But,” says I, “if I haint got Josiah with me I have got a good stout umberell.” He quailed silently, and while he was a quailin’ I turned to Betsey, and asked her if she was ready to start along, for as true as I live and breathe, I was afraid Betsey was so of that clingin turn, that she would be a kissen’ some of them men in spite of my teeth, for thier was a lot of ’em besettin’ her for a bus. A yellin’ round her “have a bus? Have a bus?” Jest as if that was jest what Betsey and me had come from Jonesville for. The miserable—lowlived creeters.

Betsey seemed to kinder hate to go, but I started her off. For no burdock bur ever stuck to a horse’s mane, as Josiah Allen’s wife sticks to a companion, a drawin’ ’em along with her in the cause of Right. As we wended our way along, walkin’ afoot, she wanted to know what tavern I was a goin’ to put up to, and I told her “Mr. and Miss Asters’es tavern.” Says she, “If it was not jest as it was, I would ask you to go to cousin Ebenezah’s with me. But in the future it may be I shall be freer to act, than I be now. If I was a married female and had a home of my own heah, how happy I should be to welcome Jonesville to its blessed presincts. As deah Tuppah observes—”

But I interrupted her by sayin’ coolly, “Betsey, I have made up my mind to put up to Mr. Aster’ses, for Johnothan Beans’es ex-wife, Josiah’s 2nd cousin, is Miss Aster’ses hired girl.”

“Is she a widow?” says Betsey.

“She does a little in that line,” says I in a cautious tone. “She is a vegetable widow.” I wasn’t goin’ to say “grass widow” right out, though she is clear grass. For her husband, Johnothan Bean, run away with another woman 3 years ago this comin’ fall, it was all printed out in the World at the time. At that very minute we turned on to Broadway, and Betsey was a sailin’ on ahead of me in gay spirits, a laughin’, and a talkin’, and a quotin’ Tupper, jest as happy as you please. But as we turned the corner, I stopped her by ketchin’ holt of her Greek bender, and says I,

“I’d have a little respect into me, Betsey Bobbet,” says I. “Less stand still here, till the funeral procession goes by.”

So we put a funeral look onto our faces, and stood still a spell, and they streamed by. I thought my soul there was no end to the mourners. It seems as if we stood there decently and in order, with a solemn look onto our faces, becomin’ the solemn occasion, for pretty nigh ½ an hour. Finally I whispered to Betsey, and says I,

“Betsey, did you ever see such a gang of mourners in your life?”

I see her eyes looked kinder sot in her head, and she seemed to be not really sensin’ what I said. She looked strange. Finally says she, “It is a sorrowful time, I am composin’ a funeral owed, and I will repeat it to you soon.”

I wanted to get her mind off’en that idee, and I continued on a talkin’,

“It must be some awful big man that is dead. Like as not it is the Governor of the United States or some deacon or other. Do see ’em stringin’ along. But how some of the mourners are a behavin’, and how gay some of the wimmen are dressed. If I had known there was goin’ to be a funeral in the village, while I was here, some of the mourners might have had my black bombazeen dress, and my crape viel jest as well as not. I always make a practice of lendin’ ’em on funeral occasions.”

Jest then a little boy came sailin’ by, with a segar in his mouth almost as big as he was. And I ketched holt of him, and whispered to him,

“Bub who is dead?” and says I, “be you one of the mourners?”

“Yes, old lady,” says he, in a impudent tone, “I am out on a short mourn.”

If it hadn’t been for the mournful occasion, and for gettin’ off’en my dignity, I would have spanked him, then and there; he laughed so impudent at me. But I let him go on, and then I took out my snowy 25 cent linen handkerchief and wiped off my heated face, and says I to Betsey,

“I am wore out; there hain’t no end to this procession seemin’ly, we may as well go on, for I am beat out, we shall act as well as some of the mourners do any way, if we do walk on.” So we wended on. Betsey’s cousin lived not a great ways from Miss Asters’es, only it was down a little ways another street, up over a store. I told her “I guessed I wouldn’t climb up them grocery stairs, I was so tuckered out, and then Miss Aster would most probable have supper about ready, and I didn’t want to have her fuss to set the table over for me, or steep her tea over, and I felt that a cup of tea I must have.”

I was kinder dreadin’ goin’ in alone, not bein’ acquainted with Miss Aster, and I don’t know when I have been tickleder, than I was to meet Jonothan Beans’es ex-wife, right on the sidewalk. She was real glad to see me too, for I befriended her when she first went to grass, (as it was,) I took her right in for 3 weeks, and give her 2 pair of seamed stockin’s, and a lot of other things for her comfort.

She went right back with me. Of all the big houses I ever see, Mr. Asters’es house beat everything. I was determined not to act green and be a askin’ questions, and so I didn’t say a word. But I spose from the size of it, that Mr. Aster lets part of it for meetin’ houses, and mebby they have a few select schools in it, and a few lunatick asylums, I should think they would need ’em, such a noise. But I didn’t say a word.

Jonothan Beans’es ex-wife told me I must put my name down on the Register before I went to my room, I didn’t object, nor I didn’t ask no questions, but I kep’ a pretty good look out. “Register!” I knew I had heard somethin’ that sounded like that, connected with deeds, and I wasn’t goin’ to sign away my property. I didn’t know as it was so, but I did have my thoughts, that mebby somebody had told ’em I was comein’ to the village, and they was tryin’ to get me to sign away my thirds, there is so much iniquity in the world. But I kep’ my thoughts to myself, and kep’ my eyes open. I jest looked over the book pretty sharp, before I put my name down, and I see it was all right. My room was on the 5th story, and I told J. Beans’es ex-wife that how I was goin’ to climb up them stairs I didn’t know, I was so tuckered out, I was sorry the minute I said it, for I was afraid she would go and tell Miss Aster, and Miss Aster would give up her bedroom to me, or mebby she would make Mr. Aster sleep with one of the boys, and have me sleep with her, and I wouldn’t have her put herself out for the world. And I spoke up and says I,

“I guess I can weather it some way.”

And she spoke up and says she, “Here is the elevater, be carried up.”

There was a big nigger comin’ right towards us, and I thought she meant him, for they have been called such funny names ever since the war, that I thought likely “Elevater” was one of ’em. But I jest put my foot right doun to once, says I firmly,

“I haint a goin’ to be lugged up stairs by that nigger.” And then I was so afraid that he would hear it, and it would hurt his feelin’s, that I spoke right up pretty loud, and says I,

“It haint on account of the gentleman’s dark complexion at all, that I object. But I don’t think Josiah would like it, to have any other man carryin’ me round in his arms.”

But Johnothan Beans’es ex-wife explained it to me. There was a little room about as big as our smoke house, all fixed off neat as a pin, and all we had to do was to git in, and then we was histed right up in front of our room. I was awful glad to be carried up, but I have got some pity left into me, and I says to her, says I,

“Haint it awful hard for the man that is drawin’ us up?” Says I, “Is it Mr. Aster, or is it his hired man?” and says I, “does he do it with a windlass, like a well bucket? or hand over hand, like drawin’ up water out of a cistern with a pole?”

Johnothan Beans’es ex-wife said it was done by machinery, and she said, for I asked her the first thing, “that there wasn’t no funeral, that there was jest such a crowd every day.” I didn’t believe her, but I was too beat out to contend. And glad enough was I, to stretch my weary limbs in a rockin’ chair. J. Beans’es ex-wife said she would fetch me up a cup of tea, and my supper to me. She haint forgot the past.

She told me when she left me that night, to be dreadful careful about the gass, and not blow it out; she told me jest how it was done, and I’ll bet Mrs. Aster herself couldn’t do it any neater, for I thought of Josiah, and the thought of that man nerved me to do it right, so as not to die and leave him a gass widower, and a lonely man.

When I waked up in the mornin’ such a noise as I heard. Why, I have thought sometimes when I was sleepy, that our old rooster “Hail the Day” makes an awful sight of noise. But good land! if all the roosters in the United States and Boston, had roosted right under my window, they couldn’t have begun with it. My first thought as I leaped out of bed was, “Jonesville is afire.” Then recollectin’ myself, I grew calmer, and thought mebby Miss Aster had got breakfast ready, and was a hollerin’ to me. And growin’ still more composed, I gin up that the tramplin’ and hollerin’ was doun in the street. As I dressed me, I lay out my work for the day; thinks’es I, “Betsey Bobbet will be so took up with her mission to her cousin Ebenezer’s, that I shall be rid of her!” It was a sweet thought to me, and I smiled as I thought it. But alas! as the poet well observes, “How little we know what is ahead of us.” Thinks’es I, as I turned the screw and let the water outen the side of the house to wash me, (Johnothan Beans’es ex-wife had showed me how the night before,) I must do all I can this day in the cause of Right. If I get that destracted here that I am threatened with luny, and have to leave before my time comes, I will go where duty calls me first and most. I should have been glad to have looked round the village, and got acquainted with some of Miss Aster’ses neighbors, but though I felt that the neighborin’ wimmen might think I was real uppish and proud sperited, still I felt that I could better stand this importation than to desert the cause of Right for ½ a minute. I felt that Horace, although nearly perfect in every other respect, needed Josiah Allen’s wife’s influence on a subject dear to that female’s heart. And I felt that that deluded Miss Woodhull needed a true and pure principled female to show her plainly where she stood. Then I laid out to go to Isabella Beecher Hooker’ses. And the time was short, I knew with every fresh roar of destraction that come up from the street below, that the time of my stay in that village was short.

I was so almost lost in these thoughts, that I didn’t see how late it was a gettin’. I had overslept myself in the first place, bein’ so tuckered out the night before, and thinks’es I all of a sudden,

“What will Miss Aster think, my keepin’ her from eatin’ her breakfast so long?”

But inwardly, my mind was some composed by thinkin’ it was principle that had belated me. So I sailed doun stairs. I had put on my best clothes, my head-dress looked foamin’, my overskirt stood out noble round my form. And it was with a peaceful mind though some destracted by the noise, that I wended my way to the breakfast table.

But instead of all of us a settin’ to one table with Miss Aster to the head, a pourin’ out tea, there was I’ll bet, more’n a hundred little tables, with folks settin’ round ’em, a eatin’, and waiters a goin’ all round amongst ’em, a waitin’ on ’em. And every man waiter had got on one of his wives white bib aprons. Thinks’es I to myself, what a tussle I should have with Josiah, to get him to wear one of my aprons round the house when I had company; he is awful sot aginst wearin’ aprons, it is all I can do to get one on to him when he is a churnin’.

Johnothan Beans’es ex-wife ketched my eye, as I went in, and she came and sot me doun to a little table where there wasn’t nobody. And then she was drawed off by somebody and left me alone. And I spoke out loud to myself,

“I’d like to know what I am goin’ to eat, unless I lay to and eat stun china and glass ware.” And ketchin’ sight of the pepper box, I exclaimed almost convulsively,

“I never was much of a hand to eat clear pepper, and nothin’ else.”

A nigger come up to me at that minute, and said somethin’ in a frenchified accent about a cart bein’ on my plate, or somethin’ about a cart, and I see in a minute that he wanted to make out—because I come from the country—that I wanted a cart load of vittles. I don’t know when I have been madder. Says I,

“You impudent creeter, you think because I am from the country, and Josiah haint with me, that you can impose upon me. Talk to me, will you, about my wantin’ a cart load of vittles? I should be glad,” says I in a sarcastic tone, “I should be glad to get somethin’ a little more nourishin’ than a three tined fork and a towel to eat, but I don’t seem to run much chance of gettin’ on it here.”

Before he had time to say anything, J. Beans’es ex-wife came up, and said somethin’ to me about lookin’ at “Bill the Fair.” I looked down on the table, and noticed then for the first time that there was a piece of poetry layin’ there, seemin’ly cut out of some newspaper, I see that she wanted me to read it, but I told her, “That I wasn’t much of a hand for poetry anyway, and Betsey Bobbet wrote so much that it made me fairly sick of it,” and besides, says I, “I have left my specks up stairs, I forgot ’em till I got most down here.”

But jest then I happened to think, mebby she had wrote it herself, I don’t want to hurt nobody’s feelin’s, and says I, in a pleasant tone,

“I presume “Bill the Fair,” is a good piece of poetry, and if you haint no objection, I will take it home with me, and put it into Tirzah Ann’s scrap book.” She started off before I fairly got through speakin’ and I folded up the poetry and put it into my pocket, and in a minute’s time back she came with some first rate vittles. She knows what I like jest as well as I do, havin’ lived with us a spell, as I said, when she first went to grass. She knows jest what a case I am for store tea; but she asked me what kind of tea I wanted, and I spoke right out before I thought,

“Anything but sage tea, I can’t bear that.”

But then I happened to think I see they was all a drinkin’ coffee round me, I knew they was by the smell. And I thought mebby from her speakin’ to me in that way that she meant to give me a little hint that Miss Aster was out of store tea, and says I, kinder loud for she had started off. “If Miss Aster is short on it for store tea, she needn’t fuss for me, she needn’t borry any on my account, I can drink sage tea if I set out to.”

But I thought to myself, that I had rather have brought a drawin’ of tea in my pocket clear from Jonesville, than to have gone without it; while I was jest thinkin’ this, Jonothan Beans’es ex-wife came back with a first rate cup of tea, strong enough to bear up a egg.

The more I looked round and see the droves of hungry folks, the sorrier I felt for Miss Aster. And I spoke to J. Beans’es ex-wife as she brought me my last vittles, says I, “If there is a woman on the face of the hull earth I am sorry for, it is Miss Aster, how on earth can she ever cook enough to fill this drove of folks?” says I, “How can she ever stand up under it?” And carried almost away with my sympathy, I says to Jonothan Beans’es ex-wife,

“You tell Miss Aster from me that she needn’t make no fuss about the dinner at all, I will eat a picked up dinner, I had jest as lives as not, I didn’t come down here to put her out and make her any trouble.”

I heard a little noise to one side of me, and I looked round and there was a feller and two girls a snickerin’ and laughin’, right at me. They was rigged out awful fashionable, but I guess their brains had run to their hair mostly, the girls on their heads, and his’en on his face, such sights of it. But I don’t believe they was very well off, for every one of ’em had broke one eye off’en their spectacles, and they lifted up that one eye, and looked at me through it, a laughin’ at the same time as if they would split. But it didn’t put me out a bit, I glared back at ’em, as sharp as they did at me, and says I,

“Laugh away if you want to, I know what it is to cook over a hot cook stove in the summer time, it tuckers anybody out, even if they have got good help, and I am sorry for Miss Aster.”

They snickered worse than ever, and I got mad, and says I,

“I don’t wonder you laugh! there haint no more pity and humanity in the whole lot on you, than there is in a three tined pitchfork, and no wonder when you see somebody that has got a little pity and generosity into ’em, it is more of a amusement and novelty to you than a circus would be.”

As I said this, I rose up in almost fearful dignity, and sailed away from the table up to my room.

As I opened the door I heard a dreadful curious noise, a kind of a gurglin’ gushin’ sound, and when I opened the door, of all the freshets I ever see, I had forgot to turn back the little screw, and the water was a gushin’ out all over. Jonothen Beans’es ex wife, happened to come along jest then, and she sent up a nigger with a mop, and a lot of cloths, and I turned to, and helped him, she told me not to, but says I,

“Josiah Allen’s wife haint one to shirk when there is work to do,” and says I, “you tell Miss Aster, after I get through here, I had jest as lives come down and help her wash up the breakfast dishes as not,” says I, lookin’ thoughtfully at my overskirt, “I don’t really want to put my hands into the dish water on account of my dress, but I had jest as lives wipe ’em as not.”

But J. Beans’es ex wife said there wasn’t no need of my helpin’, and so after I got my room all slicked up and my bed made (she told me to leave my bed, but I wusn’t goin’ to act so slack) I sot down a minute to rest, before I set sail in the cause of Right.

I was jest a thinkin’ that Betsey Bobbet was safe in the house of mournin’, and there was a sweet and satisfied smile on my face, as I thought it, when all of a sudden the door opened, and in she walked. My heart sunk pretty near ½ an inch. But I ketched holt of my principles, and says I,

“What is the matter Betsey?” For she looked as if she had been cryin’ her eyes out. “Is your cousin no more? has Ebineezah suicided himself?”

“No moah!” says she in a indignant tone. “She is gettin’ well, and Ebineezah is as happy as a king about it, she has been takin’ cod liveh oil, and “Cherry Pectorial,” and they have cured her, I hate Cherry Pectorial, and cod liveh oil, they are nasty stuffs.”

Says I, in a insinuatin’ tone, “you are goin’ back there haint you?”

“No!” says she indignantly, “I won’t stir a step back, they are so tickled about her gettin’ bettah, that they don’t use me with no respect at all.” And there was a tear in her eye as she added in sorrowful tones, “Ebineezah told me that if it hadn’t been for that cod liveh oil, he should have been a widowah, and a lonely man to-day. No!” says she takin’ off her hat and throwin’ it in a angry fierce way onto the bed, “I won’t stir a step back, I won’t stay anotheh minute in the same house with cod liver oil, I perfectly despise it.”

I see there was no use a arguin’ with her, the arrow had struck too deep, I see my fate, Betsey had got to accompany me on my high and lofty mission. For a minute I thought wildly of escape, of gettin’ her out of the room on some errent for a minute, and then tyin’ the sheets together and lowerin’ myself down from the winder. But better feelin’s rose inside of me, Betsey was a human bein’, I, belonged to the meetin’ house. All these nobler emotions tied up my tongue, I said nothin’ but I turned and concluded the wild tumult of my feelin’s, by takin’ the gingham case off’en my umberell I was goin’ to carry with me, and puttin’ on my bunnet we started out for our promenade.

MEET DR. MARY WALKER.

No cambric needle ever had its eye sot any keener and firmer onto the North pole, than Josiah Allen’s wife had her keen gray eye aimed at the good of the Human Race, so I thought I would go and see Horace first. But Jonothan Beans’es ex-wife told me he had gone away for the day, to some great rally in a neighborin’ village. I didn’t have the least idee what she meant by “rally,” but I answered her in a bland way that “I hoped he would have good luck and get quite a mess of it,” and then says I, “It won’t make a mite of difference with me, I can go to Miss Woodhulls’es first.”

Betsey was rampent to go to the Theater, “Barnums Amusement,” and the “Centre of the Park,” and some of the meetin’ houses with big steeples, and other places of amusement. But I says to her as we wended our way on, “Betsey, these old bones of mine will repose in Jonesville to-morrer night, as the poet saith, ‘In my own delightful feather bed.’ And Betsey, they couldn’t rest there, if they looked back and see that they didn’t do all they could while here, for the advancement of the Race, and for improvin’ of my own mind.” Says I, “I didn’t come to this village for vain pleasure, I have got a high mission to perform about, and a mind to improve upon.”

I thought we would jest run in a few minutes to Miss Hookers’es, but her hired girl says to me at the door says she,

“Miss Hooker is engaged.”

I looked the hired girl full in the face, and says I,

“What of it, what if she is?”

Then says the hired girl, “She hain’t to home.”

Says I, “Why didn’t you say so, in the first out, and not go to beatin’ round the bush.” Says I, for I was determined to do all the good I could to the Human Race, “Miss Hooker is a first rate woman, and it haint a hired girl’s place to talk about her mistress’es family matters and love affairs.”

When we got to Miss Woodhulls’es we went up the front doorsteps, and I knocked to the door, Betsey says, “Ring the bell.”

Well says I, “I hain’t particuler, hand it along.” I thought mebby she had got one in her pocket, and wanted me to ring it to pass away the time, while we was standin’ on the doorstep a waitin’ for Miss Woodhull to come and open the door.

But Betsey reached by me, and took holt of a little silver nub, by the side of the door, put there for a orniment, and pulled it.

Says I, “Don’t be so impatient Betsey. She’ll be here in a minute, don’t go to foolin’ and tearin’ the house down to pass away time.”

Jest at that minute a little Black African came to the door, he looked impudent at us, and says he,

“Miss Woodhull hain’t to home,” and he shet the door right in our faces. We was jest goin’ down the doorsteps, when the door opened agin, and a little figger came out, that at the first view baffled me. Says I to myself, “Is it a man, or is it a woman?” It had a woman’s face but a man’s pantaloons. I was baffled. But Josiah Allen’s wife hain’t one to give up the ship while there is ½ a plank left. I was determined to get all the knowledge I could while on my tower. I was determined to get information on every deep and mysterious subject I could. And so I walked up to it, and says I in a low voice and polite as I could, for fear of hurtin’ its feelin’s,

“Be you a man sir? or a women mom?”

It wasn’t mad a bit, (I say it, for I didn’t know then in what gender to put it.) It looked me so pleasant in the face, and yet so searchin’ly, that I was kinder flustrated, and says I, in a kind of awe struck tone,

“I hope you won’t be offended, I only ask for information. Be you a masculine, femenine or neutral gender?”

It smiled agin, jest as pleasant as one of my glass jars of maple sugar, and then it opened its mouth and said,

“I am Dr. Mary Walker.”

I don’t know when I have been so tickled; nothin’ is sweeter than knowledge to the inquirin’ mind, when it has been baffled. Says I,

“Mary I am glad to see you,” and I give her hand such a shakin’ that it looked red as a beet when I leggo. Says I,

“I am gladder to see you than I would be to see any nephew or neice I have got in the world. I am as glad to see you as I would be to see any brother or sister of mine.”

Says she, “I can’t recall your countenance.”

Says I, “Mary, I am Josiah Allen’s wife.”

“Oh!” says she, “I have read your eloquent orations on wimmin’ havin’ a right. I am happy to make your acquaintance.” Then and there I introduced Betsey.

Says she, “Did you call to see Miss Woodhull?”

“Yes,” says I, “I wanted to talk to her, for she is in the wrong, but she haint to home.”

Says she, “she is to home, and you shall see her, a few friends of the cause, have met here to-day, but they are about all gone.” She went right up the doorsteps agin, and instead of knockin’, she ketched holt of that silver nob, that Betsey had been a foolin’ with. Mary was so excited that she didn’t really know what she was about, or else she would have made some move towards gettin’ in to the house. But it was jest as well, for that impudent faced little Black African happened to come to the door agin jest at the right time. And she spoke up kinder sharp like,

“Show these ladies into the parlor, they are friends of mine, and Miss Woodhull will be glad to see ’em.”

He looked as if he would sink, and I didn’t care if he did, clear through to the suller. I should have been glad to have seen him sunk.

I looked severe at him after I had gripped Mary’s hand, and parted with her. He held the door open awful polite, and in a kind of a apoligy way he murtered somethin’ about,

“Sposin’ Miss Woodhull was engaged.”

Says I pretty sharp, “Sposin’ she is engaged, is that any reason you should turn Betsey and me out doors?” Says I, “I didn’t keep our folks’es doors locked up when I got engaged to Josiah.” Says I, “sposen’ Miss Woodhull is engaged, she ought to have been engaged, and married, years ago.”

I was in the wrong, and I see it, and ketched holt of my principles convulsively, for I see that my indignant emotions towards that little lyin’ imp was a shakin’ ’em. I hadn’t no right to be a speakin’ aginst the woman of the house to their hired help. I felt as mean as pusley to think I had done it, and says I, mildly,

“I am glad Miss Woodhull is engaged to be married, it takes a load off’en my mind,” says I, “I presume she will settle doun and make a real likely woman.”

At that minute, a door opened right across the hall, and a man come out and shet it agin, and he ketched right holt of my arm, the first thing, and says he,

“Come, Marier Jane, or Marier Ann,” says he, “I can’t really call to mind your precise name this minute, but I think it is Marier any way, or mebby it is Mary Ann. Come, Mary Ann, it is time to be a goin’ home.”

I looked at him with almost fearful dignity, and I says to him with a air so cold that he must have thought it blowed off of Greenland’s icy mountain,

“Leggo of my arm!”

But he never budged a inch, and I jest raised my umberell, and says I, “If you don’t leggo of my arm, I’ll make you leggo.”

Then he leggo. And he stood back a little, but he looked piercin’ly and searchin’ly into my face, and says he,

“You are my wife, haint you?”

Then again I spoke with that fearful dignity, and that cold and icy air, 50 degrees under Mr. Zero it was, if it was a degree.

“No Sir! I am proud and happy to say I am not your wife, I am Josiah Allen’s wife.”

He looked real meachin’, and says he, “I beg your pardon mom, but I’ve only been married to my last wife a few hours, havin’ got a divorce from a former companion after dinner yesterday, and I have been so busy since, that I haven’t really got the run of her face yet, though I thought,” he added dreamily, “that I should know that nose agin any where.”

I see that he was imposin’ on me. But I wasn’t goin’ to have my nose throwed in my face by him, and says I, “I am aware that my nose is a pretty sizeable one. But,” says I, in about as sarcastic a voice as I ever used in my life “it is a nose that haint never been wore off, and made smaller a pokin’ into other folks’es affairs. Pokin’ round a tryin’ to find wives where there haint none.”

“But mom, I was married between daylight and dark, and—”

But I wouldn’t stay to hear another word of his apoligys, I jest turned my back onto him, when the door opened agin, and a woman came out, and I’ll be hanged if her nose didn’t look like mine—a honorable Roman. The man looked at her in a kind of a undecided way, but she walked right up and took holt of his arm, and he brightened up, and says he. “Are you goin’ home now Mary Ann?”

“Yes,” says she, “but my name haint Mary Ann, it is Mehitable.”

“Wall,” said he, “I knew there was a M in it.” And he walked off with her, with a proud and triumphant mene.

INTERVIEW WITH THEODORE AND VICTORY.

The young black African opened the door and says he, “Josiah Allen’s wife, and Betsey Bobbet, mom.” He had asked us our names jest before he opened it.

Miss Woodhull was a standin’ pretty near the door, a talkin’ with 3 wimmin as we went in. But she come forward immediatly and put out her hand. I took it in mine, and shook it a very little, mebby 3 or 4 times back and forth. But she must have felt by that cool, cautious shake, that I differed from her in her views, and had come to give her a real talkin’ to.

One of the wimmen she was a talkin’ to, had jest about as noble a lookin’ face as I ever see, with short white curls a fallin’ all round it. The beholder could see by the first glance onto that face, that she hadn’t spent all the immortal energies of her soul in makin’ clover leaf tattin’, or in cuttin’ calico up into little pieces, jest to sew ’em togather agin into blazin’ stars and sunflower bedquilts. It was the face of an earnest noble woman, who had asked God what He wanted her to do, and then hadn’t shirked out of doin’ it. Who had gripped holt of life’s plough, and hadn’t looked back because the furrows turned over pretty hard, and the stumps was thick.

She knew by experience that there was never any greensward so hard to break up, as old prejudices and customs; and no stumps so hard to get round as the ridicule and misconceptions of the world. What made her face look so calm then, when she was doin’ all this hard work? Because she knew she was makin’ a clearin’ right through the wilderness that in the future was goin’ to blossom like a rose. She was givin’ her life for others, and nobody ever did this since the days of Jesus, but what somethin’ of his peace is wrote doun on thier forwards. That is the way Elizabeth Cady Stanton looked to me, as Miss Woodhull introduced me and Betsey to her, and to the two other ladies with her.

One of the other wimmen I fell in love with at first sight, and I suppose I should have been jest so partial to her if she had been as humbly as one of the Hotentots in my old Olney’s Geography, and I’ll tell you why, because she was the sister of H. W. Beecher. As a general thing I don’t believe in settin’ folks up, because they happen to have smart relations. In the words of one of our sweetest and noblest writers, “Because a man is born in a stable it don’t make him a horse.” Not as a general thing, it don’t.

But not once in 100 years does Nature turn out such a man as H. W. B. It takes her longer than that to get her ingregiences and materials togather to make such a pure sweet nature, such a broad charity, and such a intellect as his’en. Why, if the question had been put to me before I was born, whether I would be born his sister, or the twin sister of the queen of England, I’d never give a second thought to Miss Victoria Albert, not but what I respect the Widder Albert deeply, I think she is a real nice woman. But I had ruther be his sister than to be the sister of 21 or 22 other kings. For he is a king not make by the layin’ on of earthly hands, he is God’s own annointed, and that is a royalty that can’t be upsot. So as I remarked I s’pose Isabella Beecher Hooker would have looked pretty good to me any way.

The other lady was smart and sensible lookin’, but she was some like me, she won’t never be hung for her beauty. This was Susan B. Anthony. Betsey Bobbet sot down on a chair pretty nigh the door, but I had considerable talk with Susan. The other two was awful long discussin’ some question with Miss Woodhull.

Susan said in the course of her remarks that “she had made the ‘Cause of Wimmen’s Rights,’ her husband, and was going to cleave to it till she died.”

I told her I was deeply interested in it, but I couldn’t marry myself to it, because before gettin’ acquainted with it, I had united myself to Josiah.

We had considerable reasonable and agreeable talk, such as would be expected from two such minds as mine and hern, and then the three ladies departed. And Miss Woodhull came up to me agin kinder friendly, and says she,

“I am glad to meet you Josiah Allen’s wife,” and then she invited me to set down. As I turned round to get a chair I see through a door into another room where sot several other wimmen—some up to a table, and all dreadful busy readin’ papers and writin’ letters. They looked so business-like and earnest at thier work, that I knew they could not have time to back-bite thier neighbors, and I was glad to see it. As I took my seat I see a awful handsome gentleman settin’ on a sofa—with long hair put back behind his ears,—that I hadn’t ketched sight of before. It was Theodore Tilton, and Miss Woodhull introduced him to Betsey and me. He bowed to Betsey, but he came forward and took my hand in his’en. I couldn’t refuse to take it, but I looked up in his handsome face with a look about two thirds admiration, and one of sorrow. If the handsomest and best feathered out angel, had fell right over the walls of heaven into our dooryard at Jonesville, I couldn’t have give it a more piercin’, and sort of pitiful look than I did him. I then turned and silently put my umberell in the corner and sot down. As I did so, Miss Woodhull remarked to Mr. Tilton,

“She is a Strong Wimmen’s Righter, she is one of us.”