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Updated: May 16, 2025
Ef I let my Hambletonian temper git the better o' me I'd frazzle you out finer than rye-straw inside o' three minutes, you woman-scarin', kid-killin', dash-breakin', unbroke, unshod, ungaited, pastur'-hoggin', saw-backed, shark-mouthed, hair-trunk-thrown-in-in-trade son of a bronco an' a sewin'-machine!"
I told Josiah about it when he and the boy come home; and I tell you, my eyes fairly snapped, I was that mad and rousted up about it: but he said, "He believed it was a sewin'-machine man, and wanted to sell me a feller for my sewin'-machine.
Right in there on the sewin'-machine in plain sight of all of us I saw them, and I wiped me hands and tied up me apron, and I walked in, and says I, 'I'll be obliged to you, Mr. Belmont, to put them by, and I looked at him, stiff as pork. 'Why, certainly, Mrs. Corbett, says he, smilin' at me as if I had said somethin' pleasant.
Josiah wuz dretful took with the sights of shops on either side of the narrow streets of old Cairo and all sorts of trades bein' carried on there right out doors: goldsmiths and silversmiths makin' their jewelry right there before you, and Josiah sez: "I lay out to have a shop rigged out doors to hum and make brooms and feather dusters; and why don't you, Samantha; how uneek it would be for you to have your sewin'-machine or your quiltin'-frames in the corner of the fence between us and old Bobbett's, and have a bedquilt or a crazy blanket draped behind you on the fence.
"Yes, she was one of them women folks that air so light-minded you can't anchor 'em down with a sewin'-machine, nor a dishpan, nor a husband 'n' young ones, nor no namable kind of a thing; the least wind blows 'em here 'n' blows 'em there, like dandelion puffs. As time went on, the widder got herself a beau now 'n' then; but as fast as she hooked 'em, Fiddy up 'n' took 'em away from her.
"After all, we might 's well be comfortable while we visit," she commented simply, when they found themselves adjusted as of old, "'n' come to think it over I really did hear quite a piece o' news in town. Mrs. Duruy says she's set Felicia Hemans to makin' Sam some shirts 'n' Sam is runnin' the sewin'-machine for 'em.
Thar it is on the sewin'-machine; I'll bet you ain't looked in it in a month o' Sundays." Westerfelt was laboriously keeping a straight face, but it was waxing red as blood and his eyes were protruding from their sockets and twinkling with a merriment that was a delight to Mrs. Bradley, who kept glancing at him as she talked. "What in the dev what do you mean, Marthy?" Bradley stammered.
Sweet-potato pie, an' burnt on one side the side thet's left. Yas, an' I'll leave it ag'in!" He chuckled as he took a deep bite. "Of co'se I must 'a' had 'em on when I cut the pie, or I couldn't 've saw it so distinc' 'an I finished that slice a-settin' down talkin' to her at the sewin'-machine. Ricollec' I told her how mother used to put cinnamon in hers.
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