Samantha at Saratoga by Marietta Holley
page 96 of 299 (32%)
page 96 of 299 (32%)
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Oh! I felt that it would be a happy hour for Samantha when she
could bile her potatoes by the heat of that large noble fire-place. And more than that, far more wuz the thought that heat might become, in the future, as cheap as cold. That the little cold hands that freeze every winter in the big cities, could be stretched out before the big generous warmth of that noble fire-place. And who built that fire in the first place? Who laid the first sticks on the handirons, and put the match to it? Who wuz it that did it, and how did he look, and when wuz he born, and why, and where? These, and many other thoughts of similar size and shape, filled my brane almost full enough to lift up the bunnet, that reposed gracefully on my foretop, as I stood and held the sparklin' glass in my hands. Sparkle! sparkle! sparkle! what wuz it, it wuz a tryin' to say to me and couldn't? Good land! I couldn't tell, and Josiah couldn't, I knew instinctively he couldn't, though I didn't ask him. No, I turned and looked at that beloved man, for truly I had for the time bein' been by the side of myself, and I see that he wuz a drinkin' lavishly of the noble water. I see that he wuz a drinkin' more than wuz for his good, his linement showed it, and sez I, for he wuz a liftin' another tumbler full onto his lips, sez I, "Pause, Josiah Allen, and don't imbibe too much." "Why," he whispered, "you can drink all you are a mind to for 5 cents. I am bound for once, Samantha Allen, to get the worth of my money." |
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