Samantha at Saratoga Part 6

Says she, "The Bible says, `Search the Sperits.'"

And I was so wore out a seein' how place after place, for three times a runnin the Bible was lifted up and held as a s.h.i.+eld before stingy creeters, to ward off the criticism of the world and their own souls, that I says to myself -- loud enough so they could hear me, mebbe, "Why is it that when anybody wants to do a mean, ungenerous act, they will try to quote a verse of Scripter to uphold 'em, jest as a wolf will pull a lock of pure white wool over his wolfish foretop, and try to look innocent and sheepish."

I don't care if they did hear me, I wuz on the step mostly when I thought it, pretty loud.

Wall, from Miss Bombus'es I went to Miss Petingill's.

Miss Petingill is a awful high-headed creeter. She come to the door herself and she said, I must excuse her for answerin' the door herself. (I never heard the door say anything and don't believe she did, it was jest one of her ways.) But she said I must excuse her as her girl wuz busy at the time.

She never mistrusted that I knew her hired girl had left, and she wuz doin' her work herself. She had ketched off her ap.r.o.n I knew, as she come through the hall, for I see it a layin' behind the door, all covered with flour. And after she had took me into the parlor, and we had set down, she discovered some spots of flour on her dress, and she said she "had been pastin' some flowers into a sc.r.a.p book to pa.s.s away the time." But I knew she had been bakin'

for she looked tired, tired to death almost, and it wuz her bakin'

day. But she would sooner have had her head took right off than to own up that she had been doin' housework -- why, they say that once when she wuz doin' her work herself, and was ketched lookin'

awful, by a strange minister, that she pa.s.sed herself off' for a hired girl and said, "Miss Petingill wasn't to home, and when pressed hard she said she hadn't "the least idee where Miss Petingill wuz."

Jest think on 't once -- and there she wuz herself. The idee!

Wall, the minute I sot down before I begun my business or anything, Miss Petingill took me to do about puttin' in Miss Bibbins President of our Missionary Society for the Relief of Indignent Heathens.

The Bibbins'es are good, very good, but poor.

Says Miss Petingill: "It seems to me as if there might be some other woman put in, that would have had more influence on the Church."

Says I, "Haint Miss Bibbins a good Christian sister, and a great worker?"

"Why yes, she wuz good, good in her place. But," she said, "the Petingills hadn't never a.s.sociated with the Bibbins'es."

And I asked her if she s'posed that would make any difference with the heathen; if the heathen would be apt to think less of Miss Bibbins because she hadn't a.s.sociated with the Petingills?

And she said, she didn't s'pose "the heathens would ever know it; it might make some difference to 'em if they did," she thought, "for it couldn't be denied," she said, "that Miss Bibbins did not move in the first circles of Jonesville."

It had been my doin's a puttin' Miss Bibbins in and I took it right to home, she meant to have me, and I asked her if she thought the Lord would condemn Miss Bibbins on the last day, because she hadn't moved in the first circles of Jonesville?

And Miss Petingill tosted her head a little, but had to own up, that she thought "He wouldn't."

"Wall, then," sez I, "do you s'pose the Lord has any objections to her working for Him now?"

"Why no, I don't know as the Lord would object."

"Wall," sez I, "we call this work the Lord's work, and if He is satisfied with Miss Bibbins, we ort to be."

But she kinder nestled round, and I see she wuzn't satisfied, but I couldn't stop to argue, and I tackled her then and there about the Smedleys. I asked her to give a pound, or pounds, as she felt disposed.

But she answered me firmly that she could't give one cent to the Smedleys, she wuz principled against it.

And I asked her, "Why?"

And she said, because the old lady wuz proud and wanted a home, and she thought that pride wuz so wicked, that it ort to be put down.

Wall, Miss Huff, Miss Cephas Huff, wouldn't give anything because one of the little Smedleys had lied to her. She wouldn't encourage lyin'.

And I told her I didn't believe she would be half so apt to reform him on an empty stomach, as after he wuz fed up. But she wouldn't yield.

Wall, Miss Daggett said she would give, and give abundant, only she didn't consider it a worthy object.

But it wuzn't nothin' only a excuse, for the object has never been found yet that she thought wuz a worthy one. Why, she wouldn't give a cent towards painting the Methodist steeple, and if that haint a high and worthy object, I don't know what is. Why, our steeple is over seventy feet from the ground. But she wouldn't help us a mite -- not a single cent.

Take such folks as them and the object never suits 'em. They won't come right out and tell the truth that they are too stingy and mean to give away a cent, but they will always put the excuse onto the object -- the object don't suit 'em.

Why, I do believe it is the livin' truth that if the angel Gabriel wuz the object, if he wuz in need and we wuz gittin' up a pound party for him -- she would find fault with Gabriel, and wouldn't give him a ounce of provisions.

Yes, I believe it -- I believe they would tost their heads and say, they always had had their thoughts about anybody that tooted so loud -- it might be all right but it didn't look well, and would be apt to make talk. Or they would say that he wuz s.h.i.+ftless and extravagant a loafin' round in the clouds, when he might go to work -- or that he might raise the money himself by selling the feathers offen his wings for down pillers -- or some of the rest of the Gabriel family might help him -- or something, or other -- anyway they would propose some way of gittin' out of givin' a cent to Gabriel. I believe it as much as I believe I live and breathe; and so does Josiah.

Wall, Miss Mooney wouldn't give anything because she thought Jane Smedley wuzn't so sick as she thought she wuz; she said "she was spleeny."

And I told Miss Mooney that when a woman was sick enough to die, I thought she ort to be called sick.

But Miss Mooney wouldn't give up, and insisted to the very last that Miss Smedley wuz hypoey and spleeny -- and thought she wuz sicker than she really wuz. And she held her head and her nose up in a very disagreeable and haughty way, and said as I left, that she never could bear to help spleeny people.

Wall, all that forenoon did I traipse through the street and not one cent did I get for the Smedleys, only Miss Gowdey said she would bring a cabbage and Miss Deacon Peed.i.c.k and Miss Ingledue partly promised a squash apiece. And I mistrusted that they give 'em more to please me than anything else.

Wall, I wuz clean discouraged and beat out, and so I told Josiah.

But he encouraged me some by sayin':

"Wall, I could have told you jest how it would be," and, "You would have done better, Samantha, to have been to home a cookin'

for your own famis.h.i.+n' family." And several more jest such inspirin' remarks as men will give to the females of their families when they are engaged in charitable enterprises.

But I got a good, a very good dinner, and it made me feel some better, and then I haint one to give up to discouragements, anyway.

So I put on a little better dress for after noon, and my best bonnet and shawl, and set sail again after dinner.

And if I ever had a lesson in not givin' up to discouragements in the first place I had it then. For whether it wuz on account of the more dressy look of my bonnet and shawl -- or whether it wuz that folks felt cleverer in the afternoon -- or whether it wuz that I had gone to the more discouragin' places in the forenoon, and the better ones in the afternoon -- or whether it wuz that I tackled on the subject in a better way than I had tackled 'em -- whether it wuz for any of these reasons, or all of 'em or somethin'

-- anyway my luck turned at noon, 12 M., and all that afternoon I had one triumph after another -- place after place did I collect pound or pounds as the case may be (or collected the promises of 'em, I mean). I did splendid, and wuz prospered perfectly amazing -- and I went home feelin' as happy and proud as a king or a zar.

And the next Tuesday evenin' we had the pound party. They concluded to have it to our house. And Thomas Jefferson and Maggie, and Tirzah Ann and Whitefield came home early in the afternoon to help trim the parlor and setin' room with evergreens and everlastin' posies, and fern leaves.

They made the room look perfectly beautiful. And they each of 'em, the two childern and their companions, brought home a motto framed in nice plush and gilt frames, which they put up on each side of the settin' room, and left them there as a present to their pa and me. They think a sight of us, the childern do -- and visey versey, and the same.

One of 'em wuz worked in gold letters on a red back-ground "Bear Ye One Another's Burdens." And the other wuz "Feed my Lambs."

They think a sight on us, the childern do -- they knew them mottoes would highly tickle their pa and me. And they did seem to kinder invigorate up all the folks that come to the party.

And they wuz seemingly legions. Why, they come, and they kept a comin'. And it did seem as if every one of 'em had tried to see who could bring the most. Why, they brought enough to keep the Smedleys comfortable all winter long. It wuz a sight to see 'em.

It wuz a curious sight, too, to set and watch what some of the folks said and done as they brought their pounds in.

I had to be to the table all the time a'most, for I wuz appointed a committee, or a board -- I s'pose it would be more proper to call myself a board, more business like. Wall, I wuz the board appointed to lay the things on -- to see that they wuz all took care of, and put where they couldn't get eat up, or any other casuality happen to 'em.

And I declare if some of the queerest lookin' creeters didn't come up to the table and talk to me. There wuz lots of 'em there that I didn't know, folks that come from Zoar, Jim Smedley's old neighborhood.