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Updated: September 16, 2025
I inquired all about the neighbors in Jonesville and Zoar and Loontown, and sez I, "I spoze Elder White is still doin' all he can for that meetin' house of hisen in Loontown, and I inquired particular about him, for Ernest White is a young man I set store by. He come from his home in Boston to visit his uncle, the banker, in East Loontown.
But in many things inferior to what hisen would have been if he'd carried it out. But I discouraged all such morbid idees and led his mind off onto sunthin' else. That evenin' whilst Josiah went out to mail a letter Blandina come into my room and sez the first thing, "Aunt Samantha, I love him passionately but my love is scorned by him." And she busted into tears.
Yes; when Columbus pinted the prow of that caraval of hisen towards the New World, the water broke on each side of it, a-washin' back towards the Old World the decayin' creeds and orders of the Old World, and the ripples that danced ahead on't, clear acrost the Atlantic, wuz a-carryin' new laws, new governments; and hoverin' over the prow as it swept on in the darkness and the dawn, onseen to any eye, not even the prophetic eye of the discoverer, hovered the great angels Liberty, Equal Rights, and Human Brotherhood.
And I cried agin, and Isabelle cried as I held her in my arms silently, and kissed her a dozen times, and I presoom more. And Mr. Freeman kissed me on my left cheek, and wrung my hand that hard that that right hand ached hard more'n a hour and a half. And I bathed it in arneky and water long enough after Isabelle had gone to her room, and Mr. Freeman to hisen.
The autumn leaves made a sort of canopy over their heads, and all round 'em wuz the soft melancholy quiet of the fall of the year. He stood there waitin' for her. "Faith!" "Richard!" I don't know how long they stood there, her little cold hands held in his big warm palms, his eyes searchin' the dear face and findin' a sacred meanin' in it, and she in hisen.
The little woman pressed towards him and I wuz drawed along in her wake by the crowd, some as a stately ship is swep' on by a small tug and the flowin' waves. And anon, after shakin' hands with her, he took my hand in hisen. A emotion swep' through me, a sort of electric current that connects New Jerusalem to Jonesville and Zoar.
I tried cotton cloth, carbide, lamb's wool blankets, Panama Canal, literatoor, X rays, hens' eggs, Standard Oil, the school mom, reciprocity, and the tariff; not a mite of change, all his idees swoshin' up against them islands, and tryin' to float off our minds there with hisen.
Why, the minister up to Zoar had told me of as many as seven relations of hisen, who, when they wuz run down and weak, and had kinder lost their minds, had jest clung to them books. In softenin' of the brain now, or bein' kicked on the head, or nateral brain weakness why, them books are invaluable, so I spoze. But to resoom.
And he sez in them deep impressive axents of hisen, "You jest try it once, and see I have sot on it, and I know." Josiah wuz sent once as a delegate to the Methodist Conference, so I spozed he did know.
Among the ploughs we see a small old-fashioned one made of wood, used by Daniel Webster when he wuz a poor farmer boy. Workin' hard at his humble work but his boyish mind, most probable, sot on sunthin' fur above, lookin' at the hard soil ahead on him that he must break up, with them wonderful, sad, eloquent eyes of hisen, and seein' visions, no doubt, and dreamin' dreams.
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