your insides into a state o' disease and deformity, torturin' your
heart down so's the blood can't circulate, and your lungs so's you
can't breathe, it is nothin' but slow murder anyway, and if I ever
take it into my head to kill myself, Alminy Hagidone, I haint a
goin' to do it in a way of perfect torture and torment to me, I'd
ruther be drownded."

She quailed, and I sez, "I am one that is goin' to take good long
breaths to the very last." She see I wuz like iron aginst the
idee of bein' drawed in, and tapered, and she desisted. I s'pose
I did look skairful. But she seemed still to cling to the idee of
low necks and trains, and she sez sort a rebukingly:

"You ortn't to go to Saratoga if you haint willin' to do as the
rest do. I spose," sez she dreamily, "the streets are full of
wimmen a walkin' up and down with long trains a hangin' down and
sweepin' the streets, and ev'ry one on 'em with low necks and
short sleeves, and all on 'em a flirting with some man"

"Truly," sez I, "if that is so, that is why the idee come to me.
I am needed there. I have a high mission to perform about. But I
don't believe it is so."

"Then you won't have it made with a long train?" sez she, a holdin'
up a breadth of the alpacky in front of me, to measure the skirt.

"No mom!" sez I, and there wuz both dignity and deep resolve in
that "mom." It wuz as firm and stern principled a "mom" as I ever
see, though I say it that shouldn't. And I see it skairt her.
She measured off the breadths kinder trembly, and seemed so