And as I see that man set at the head of the table almost completely wrapped up in dignity—like a great self-righteous damper a shettin’ off all the warmth and brightness of life from the hull on us, and a feelin’ so uncommon big over it—I declare, duty and principle kep’ a hunchin’ me so, and puttin’ me up to tackle him, that I couldn’t hardly eat. I knew the hour drew near for me to set fire to myself as a martyr, and as a Promiscous Advisor to tackle him in the cause of Right and Molly.
Most all the while we was a eatin’, the Deacon kep’ a hintin’ and a preachin’ about the wickedness and depravity of wimmen dressin’ themselves up; and every time he would say anything, he would look at Molly as if he was determined to freeze her as stiff as a poker. When we got up from the table, and sot out in the settin’-room, I see what his talk meant.
It seemed she was a makin’ a white dress for herself out of muslin—jest a finishin’ it off with some modest lookin’ lace on the neck and sleeves, and a small—a very small and reasonable amount of puckers; she could make the hull on it in a day and a half at the outside, and I could see she would look as pretty in it as a pink. When the old Deacon went to set down, he took the skirt of the dress that happened to be a layin’ over his chair, and handlin’ it with considerable the countenance he would a checkered adder, he broke out colder and frigider than ever:
“No wonder the national debt haint paid; no wonder ruin and bankruptcy are in the land, and it is wimmen’s base carnal extravagance that does it.”
“Yes,” says Josiah—who seemed to want to curry the Deacon’s favor—“it is jest as you say; wimmen is tarnal extravagant.”
Oh how he looked at Josiah; “I said _carnal_, I am not in the practice of profane swearin’.”
Oh how sorry my Josiah looked, to think he had tried to curry him down.
And then the Deacon went on about wimmen’s base and vile extravagance, as much as seventeen minutes by the clock, givin’ such a look once in a while onto my respectable overskirt, and lace head-dress, and Molly’s dress, enough to make icikles hang to ’em. I heerd him go on as long as I could, and then says I:
“No doubt some of my sect are extravagant; I dare persume to say that some of the big wimmen in Washington and New York, and other big villages of the Union, git new clothes sometimes before the old ones are wore out; I hear they say, that they have to dress up or they can’t git any attention paid to ’em from the more opposite sect; I hear they say, that the men there look down on ’em, and slight ’em, and treat ’em like perfect underlin’s if they haint dressed right up in the height of fashion. Why, they say there was a fashionable woman at Washington whose bo had wrote a witherin’ piece ag’inst wimmen’s base wicked extravagance, bewarin’ ’em, and urgin’ ’em in the name of all that was great and good to come out and wear thick shoes, and dress with republican simplicity; and she, bein’ converted by his burnin’ eloquence, and bein’ anxious to marry him, thought she could bring him to terms by follerin’ on after his advice. So she arrayed her self in a brown, high-necked alpaca dress, barren of ruffles and puckers, made to clear the floor and show her sensible calf-skin shoes, and went to a big party, expectin’ her bo would be so thankful to her for follerin’ his advice; so proud of her; so highly pleased with her behavior, that she would go home as good as married to him. But they say, when he see how she was dressed, he wouldn’t speak to her, nor look at her; it broke up the match, he treated her with awful contempt, and witherin’ scorn; and she went into extravagance more than ever; spent every cent of her property in gauzes, and bobinet lace and things, wore ’em all out, and then went to the poor-house, a victim of leanin’ too heavy onto such men’s bewares. Lost and ondone; broke down and mortified by hangin’ too blindly onto that man’s moral apron strings; I pity her, but I don’t uphold her, nor him neither; their heads was soft, both on ’em, too soft for comfort.