So it wus decided, that I should start in the morning, and Cicely come on in a few days: she was all boyed up with the thought that at this meetin" she could get some help and hope for the boy.
But, after Cicely went to bed, I sot there, and got to thinkin" about the new spellin", and felt that I approved of it. My mind is such that instantly I can weigh and decide.
I took some of these words, photograph, philosophy, etc., in one hand, and in the other I took filosify and fotograf; and as I hefted "em, I see the latter was easier to carry. I see they would make our language easier to learn by children and foreigners; it would lop off a lot of silent letters of no earthly use; it would make far less labor in writin", in printin", in cost of type, and would be better every way.
Cicely said a good many was opposed to it on account of bein" attached to the old way. But I don"t feel so, though I love the old things with a love that makes my heart ache sometimes when changes come. But my reason tells me that it hain"t best to be attached to the old way if the new is better.
Now, I s"pose our old 4 fathers was attached to the idee of hitchin" an ox onto a wagon, and ridin" after it. And our old 4 mothers liked the idee of bein" perched up on a pillion behind the old 4 fathers. I s"pose they hated the idee of gettin" off of that pillion, and onhitchin" that ox. But they had to, they had to get down, and get up into phaetons and railway cars, and steamboats.
And I s"pose them old 4 people (likely creeters they wuz too) hated the idee of usin" matches; used to love to strike fire with a flint, and trample off a mild to a neighber"s on January mornin"s (and their mornin"s was very early) to borrow some coals if they had lost their flint. I s"pose they had got attached to that flint, some of "em, and hated to give it up, thought it would be lonesome. But they had to; and the flint didn"t care, it knew matches was better. The calm, everlasting forces of Nature don"t murmur or rebel when they are changed for newer, greater helps. No: it is only human bein"s who complain, and have the heartache, because they are so sot.
[Ill.u.s.tration: OUR 4 PARENTS.]
But whether we murmur, or whether we are calm, whether we like it, or whether we don"t, we have to move our tents. We are only campin" out, here; and we have to move our tents along, and let the new things push us out of the way. The old things now, are the new ones of the past; and what seems new to us, will soon be the old.
Why, how long does it seem, only a minute, since we was a buildin" moss houses down in the woods back of the old schoolhouse? Beautiful, fresh rooms, carpeted with the green moss, with bright young faces bendin" down over "em. Where are they now? The dust of how many years-I don"t want to think how many-has sifted down over them velvet-carpeted mansions, turned them into dust.
And the same dust has sprinkled down onto the happy heads of the fresh, bright-faced little group gathered there.
[Ill.u.s.tration: BORROWING COALS.]
Charley, and Alice! oh! the dust is very deep on her head,-the dust that shall at last lay over all our heads. And Louis! Bright blue eyes there may be to-day, old Time, but none truer and tenderer than his. But long ago, oh! long ago, the dust covered you-the dust that is older than the pyramids, old, and yet new; for on some mysterious breeze it was wafted to you, it drifted down, and covered the blue eyes and the brown eyes, hid the bright faces forever.
And the years have sprinkled down into Charley"s grave business head tiresome dust of dividends and railway shares. Kate and Janet, and Will and Helen and Harry-where are you all to-day, I wonder? But though I do not know that, I do know this,-that Time has not stood still with any of you. The years have moved you along, hustled you forward, as they swept by. You have had to move along, and let other bright faces stand in front of you.
You are all buildin" houses to-day that you think are more endurin". But what you build to-day-hopes built upon worldly wealth, worldly fame, household affection, political success-ah I will they not pa.s.s away like the green moss houses down in the woods back of the old schoolhouse?
Yes, they, too, will pa.s.s away, so utterly that only their dust will remain. But G.o.d grant that we may all meet, happy children again, young with the new life of the immortals, on some happy playground of the heavenly life!
But poor little houses of moss and cedar boughs, you are broken down years and years ago, trampled down into dust, and the dust blown away by the rushin" years. Blown away, but gathered up agin by careful old Nature, nourishin" with it a newer, fresher growth.
I don"t s"pose any of us really hanker after growin" old; sometimes I kinder hate to; and so I told Josiah one day.
And he says, "Why, we hain"t the only ones that is growin" old. Why, everybody is as old as we be, that wuz born, at the same time; and lots of folks are older. Why, there is uncle Nate Gowdey, and aunt Seeny: they are as old agin, almost."
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE OLD SCHOOLHOUSE]
Says I, "That is a great comfort to meditate on, Josiah; but it don"t take away all the sting of growin" old."
And he said "he didn"t care a dumb about it, if he didn"t have to work so hard." He said "he"d fairly love to grow old if he could do it easy, kinder set down to it."
(Now, that man don"t work so very hard. But don"t tell him I said so: he"s real fractious on that subject, caused, I think, by rheumatiz, and mebby the Plan.)
I told Josiah that it wouldn"t make growin" old any easier to set down, than it would to stand up.
I don"t s"pose it makes much difference about our bodies, anyway; they are only wrappers for the soul: the real, person is within. But then, you know, you get sort o" attached to your own body, yourself, you know, if you have lived with yourself any length of time, as we have, a good many of us.
You may not be handsome, but you sort o" like your own looks, after all. Your eyes have a sort of a good look to you. Your hands are soft and white; and they are your own too, which makes "em nearer to you; they have done sights for you, and you can"t help likin" "em. And your mouth looks sort o" agreable and natural to you.
You don"t really like to see the dimpled, soft hands change into an older person"s hands; you kinder hate to change the face for an older, more care-worn face; you get sick of lookin"-gla.s.ses.
And sometimes you feel a sort of a homesick longin" for your old self-for the bright, eager face that looked back to you from the old lookin"-gla.s.s on summer mornin"s, when the winder was open out into the orchard, and the May birds was singin" amidst the apple-blows. The red lips parted with a happy smile; the bright, laughin" eyes, sort o" soft too, and wistful- wishful for the good that mebby come to you, and mebby didn"t, but which the glowin" face was sure of, on that spring morning with the May birds singin" outside, and the May birds singin" inside.
[Ill.u.s.tration: A MAY MORNING.]
Time may have brought you somethin" better-better than you dreamed of on that summer mornin". But it is different, anyhow; and you can"t help gettin" kinder homesick, longin", wantin" that pretty young face again, wantin" the heart back again that went with it.
Wall, I s"pose we shall have it back-sometime. I s"pose we shall get back our lost youth in the place where we first got it. And it is all right, anyway.
We must move on. You see, Time won"t stop to argue with us, or d.i.c.ker; and our settin" down, and coaxin" him to stop a minute, and whet his scythe, and give us a chance to get round the swath he cuts, won"t ammount to nothin" only wastin" our breath. His scythe is one that don"t need any grindstun, and his swath is one that must be cut.
No! Time won"t lean up aginst fence corners, and wipe his brow on a bandanna, and hang round. He jest moves right on-up and down, up and down. On each side of us the ripe blades fall, and the flowers; and pretty soon the swath will come right towards us, the gra.s.s-blades will fall nearer and nearer-a turn of the gleamin" scythe, and we, too, will be gone. The sunlight will rest on the turf where our shadows were, and one blade of gra.s.s will be missed out of that broad harvest-field more than we will be, when a few short years have rolled by.
The beauty and the clamor of life will go on without us. You see, we hain"t needed so much as we in our egotism think we are. The world will get along without us, while we rest in peace.
But until then we have got to move along: we can"t set down anywhere, and set there. No: if we want to be fore mothers and fore fathers, we mustn"t set still: we must give the babies a chance to be fore mothers and fore fathers too. It wouldn"t be right to keep the babies from bein" ancestors.
We must keep a movin" on. How the summer follows the spring, and the winter follows the autumn, and the years go by! And the clouds sail on through the sky, and the shadows follow each other over the gra.s.s, and the gra.s.s fadeth.
And the sun moves down the west, and the twilight follows the sun, and at last the night comes-and then the stars shine.
Strange that all this long revery of my mind should spring from that letter of my pardner"s. But so it is. Why, I sot probable 3 fourths of a hour-entirely by the side of myself. Why, I shouldn"t have sensed whether I was settin" on a sofy in a Washington boarding-house (a hard one too), or a bed of flowers in Asia Minor, or in the middle of the Desert of Sarah. Why, I shouldn"t have sensed Sarah or A. Minor at all, if they had stood right by me, I was so lost and unbeknown to myself.
But anon, or pretty nigh that time (for I know it was ten when I got into bed, and it probable took me 1/2 an hour to comb out my hair and wad it up, and ondress), I rousted up out of my revery, and realized I was Josiah Allen"s wife on a tower of Principle and Discovery. I realized I was a forerunner, and on the eve of return to the bosom of my family (a linen bosom, with five pleats on a side).
Wall, I rose betimes in the mornin", or about that time, and eat a good, n.o.ble breakfast, so"s to start feelin" well; embraced Cicely and the boy, who asked me 32 questions while I was embracin" him. I kissed him several times, with hugs according; and then I took leave of Sally and Bub Smith. I paid for my board honorable, although Sally said she would not take any pay for so short a board. But I knew, in her condition, boards of any length should be paid for. So I insisted, and the board was paid for. I also rewarded Bub Smith for his efforts at doin" my errents, in a way that made his blushes melt into a glowin" background of joyousness.
And then, havin" asked the hired man to get a covered carriage to convey my body to the depot, and my trunk, I left Washington, D.C.
The snort of the engine as it ketched sight of me, sounded friendly to me.
It seemed to say to me,- "Forerunner, your runnin" is done, and well done! Your labors of duty and anxiety is over. Soon, soon will you be with your beloved pardner at home."
Home, the dearest word that was ever said or sung.
The pa.s.sengers all looked good to me. The men"s hats looked like Josiah"s. They looked out of their eyes some as he did out of hisen: they looked good to me. There was one man upbraidin" his wife about some domestic matter, with crossness in his tone, but affectionate care and interest in his mean. Oh, how good, and sort o" natural, he did look to me! it almost seemed as if my Josiah was there by my side.
Never, never, does the cords of love fairly pull at your heart-strings, a drawin" you along towards your heart"s home, your heart"s desire, as when you have been off a movin" round on a tower. I longed for my dear home, I yearned for my Josiah.
I arrove at Jonesville as night was a lettin" down her cloudy mantilly fringed with stars (there wuzn"t a star: I jest put that in for oritory, and I don"t think it is wrong if I tell of it right away).
[Ill.u.s.tration: AT THE DEPOT.]
Evidently Josiah"s creek wus better; for he wus at the depot with the mair, to convey my body home. He wus stirred to the very depths of his heart to see me agin; but he struggled for calmness, and told me in a voice controlled by his firm will, to "hurry and get in, for the mair wus oneasy stand-in" so long."
I, too, felt that I must emulate his calmness; and I says,-
"I can"t get in no faster than I can. Do hold the mair still, or I can"t get in at all."
"Wall, wall! hain"t I a holdin" it? Jump in: there is a team behind a waitin"."