Around the World with Josiah Allen's WifeHolley, Marietta
General
Around the World with Josiah Allen's Wife
Holley, Marietta
Women travelers -- Fiction
I could see it to once, so didn't urge the matter, but left Tommy with
her and Aronette. As nigh as I could make out, the Mormons had felt
that Miss Meechim and I wuz high in authority in Gentile climes, one
on us had that air of nobility and command that is always associated
with high authority, and they felt that one on us could do their cause
much good if they could impress us favorable with the custom, so they
put their best twenty-four feet forward and did their level best to
show off their doctrine in flyin' colors. But they didn't do any good
to "one on us," nor to Miss Meechim, either; she's sound in doctrine,
though kinder weak and disagreeable in spots.
Well, we found that this family lived in splendid style, and the
husband and all his pardners acted happy whether they wuz or not. And
I d'no how or why it wuz, but when we all sot down in their large cool
parlor, Miss Meechim and I in our luxurious easy chairs, and our host
in one opposite with his wife occupyin' 'leven chairs at his sides, a
feelin' of pity swep' over me--pity for that man.
Yes, as I looked at that one lonely man, small boneded at that, and
then looked at them 'leven portly wimmen that called that man "our
husband," I pitied him like a dog. I had never thought of pityin'
Mormon men before, but had poured out all my pity and sympathy onto
the female Mormons. But havin' a mind like a oxes for strength, I
begun to see matters in a new light, and I begun to spozen to myself,
even whilst I sot there with my tongue keepin' up a light dialogue on
the weather, the country, etc., with the man and his wife ('leven on
'em). I spozed what if they should all git mad at him at one time how
wuz he goin' to bear their 'leven rages flashin' from twenty-two eyes,
snortin' from 'leven upturned noses, fallin' from 'leven angry voices,
and the angry jesters from twenty-two scornful hands. Spozein' they
all got to weepin' on his shoulder at one time how could one shoulder
blade stand it under the united weight of 'leven full-sized females,
most two ton of 'em, amidst more'n forty-four nervous sobs, for they
would naterally gin more'n two apiece. In sickness now, if they wanted
to soothe his achin' brow, and of course they would all want to, and
have the right to. But how could twenty-two hands rest on that one
small fore-top? Sixty-six rubs at the least figger, for if they
stroked his forehead at all they would want to stroke it three times
apiece, poor creeter! would not delerium ensue instead of sooth? And
spozein' they all took it into their heads to hang on his arm with
both arms fondly whilst out walkin' by moonlight, how could twenty-two
arms be accommodated by two small scrawny elbows?
It couldn't be done. And as I mused on't I spoke right out onbeknown
to me, and sez I:
"The Lord never meant it to be so; it hain't reasonable; it's aginst
common sense."
And the hull twelve sez, "What didn't the Lord mean? What wuz aginst
common sense?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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