Says Josiah, “I thought five dollars would buy the hull. I guess we had better be goin’ Samantha.” After we got out, I says “I guess, Josiah Allen, you wish you had heerd to me.”
“Dummit! who thought they were such fools?” says he.
Says I sternly, “Josiah Allen, it scares me to think you have got to be such a profane swearer,” says I “you never swore such profane oaths in your hull life before, as you have sense you have been on your tower. What would your pasture say if he could hear you? And you call ’em fools,” says I, “I guess they haint the only fools in the world!”
“Who said they _wuz_,” says he. And then he spoke up and says he, “I guess I will go out and look at some mules, and steers.”
“Well,” says I more mildly, “Mebby you had better.” And we agreed when it was time to go home, to meet at the Department of Public Comfort.
So Josiah went to look at the live stock, (he seemed to enjoy himself better when he was in that situation) and I wandered round through them wildernesses of entrancin’ beauty, perfectly happy (as it were.) I had roamed round mebby an hour, lookin’ at the pictures and statutes that lined the walls on every side, not mindin’ the crowd a mite, some of the time a laughin’ and some of the time a cryin’ (entirely unbeknown to me.) I was a standin’ in Germany, enjoyin’ myself dretfully, for the Germans are a affectionate, social race, and their pictures of home life are exceedin’ly interestin’ and agreeable, to one who loves home as does she, whose name was once Smith. And then there was pictures that would make you smile, such as “Buying the Cradle,” and “The Disagreement.” And there was lovely landscapes, and grand and inspirin’ pictures. I had jest been a lookin’ at “Christ Appearing to Mary Magdelane,” a noble picture; our Saviour clad in white like Eternal Purity, and she rushing forward with outstretched arms and her face all lit up with joy and adoration. I had jest left this picture and was a lookin’ at “Luther Intercepted,” and thinkin’ how sort o’ lonesome the woods looked, and how sorry I was for Luther—when all of a sudden I heerd a awe-stricken whisper on the nigh side of me:
“There is the Emperor of Brazil! There is Dom Pedro!”
And lookin’ up I see a tall man with greyish whiskers and mustache, come in in a quiet way with a little book in his hand, and go to lookin’ at the pictures. For nearly three quarters of a moment I felt strange, curious, exceedingly so. But Principle showed me jest what to do, to do right, and Duty locked arms with me and bore me onwards, right up in front of that noblest of men, for I felt that I ort to make some move towards gettin’ acquainted with him. I took it right to myself; he was a literary man; I was a literary woman; he was on a tower of investigation and principle; I too, was on such a tower; and I knew if I should go to Brazil to get Brazil nuts or anything, if I should happen to go to his neighborhood to any doin’s where he was, and he shouldn’t make any move towards gettin’ acquainted with me, I should feel hurt. I shouldn’t be mad, but it would grieve me—work on my feelin’s. And so thinks’es I, I wont stand on no ceremony but do as I would be done by, and scrape acquaintance with him.