Samantha at Saratoga Part 31

And anon we went down out of the monument, and crossed over to the good-lookin' house where the man lives who takes care of the monument, and shows off its good traits, a kind of a guardian to it. And we got a first-rate dinner there, though such is not their practice. And then he took us in a likely buggy with 2 seats, and a horse to draw it, and we sot out to see what the march of 100 years has left us of the doin's of them days.

Time has trampled out a good many of 'em, but we found some. We found the old Schuyler mansion, a settin' back amongst the trees, with the old knocker on it, that had been pulled by so many a old 4 father, carryin' tidin's of disappointment, and hope, and triumph, and encouragement, and everything. We went over the threshold wore down by the steps that had fell there for a hundred years, some light, some heavy steps.

We went into the clean, good-lookin' old kitchen, with the platters, and shinin' dressers and trays; the old-fashioned settee, half-table and half-seat. And we see the cup General Washington drinked tea out of, good old creeter. I hope the water biled and it wuz good tea, and most probable it wuz. And we see lots of arms that had been carried in the war, and cannon b.a.l.l.s, and sh.e.l.ls, and tommy-hawks, and hatchets, and arrows, and etc., etc. And down in one room all full of other curiosities and relicts, wuz the skull of a traitor. I should judge from the looks on't that besides bein' mean, he wuz a hombly man. Somebody said folks had made efforts to steal it. But Josiah whispered to me, that there wuzn't no danger from him, for he would rather be shet right up in the Tombs than to own it, in any way.

And I felt some like him. Some of his teeth had been stole, so they said. Good land! what did they want with his teeth! But it wuz a dretful interestin' spot. And I thought as I went through the big square, roomy rooms that I wouldn't swap this good old house for dozens of Queen Anns, or any other of the fashionable, furbelowed houses of to-day. The orniments of this house wuz more on the inside, and I couldn't help thinkin' that this house, compared with the modern ornimental cottages, wuz a good deal like one of our good old-fashioned foremothers in her plain gown, compared with some of the grandma's of to-day, all paint, and furbelows, and false hair.

The old 4 mothers orniments wuz on the inside, and the others wuz more up on the roof, scalloped off and gingerbreaded, and criss-crossed.

The old house wuz full of rooms fixed off beautiful. It wuz quite a treat to walk throngh'em. But the old fireplaces, and mantle tray shelves spoke to our hearts of the generations that had poked them fires, and leaned up against them mantle trays. They went ahead on us through the old rooms; I couldn't see 'em, but I felt their presence, as I follered 'em over the old thresholts their feet had worn down a hundred years ago. Their feet didn't make no sound, their petticoats and short gowns didn't rustle against the old door ways and stair cases.

The dear old grandpas in their embroidered coats, didn't cast no shadow as they crossed the sunshine that came in through the old-fashioned window panes. No, but with my mind's eye (the best eye I have got, and one that don't wear specks) I see 'em, and I follerd 'em down the narrow, steep stair case, and out into the broad light of 4 P. M., 1886.

Anon, or shortly after, we drove up on a corner of the street jest above where the Fish creek empties into the Hudson, and there, right on a tall high brick block, wuz a tablet, showin' that a tree once stood jest there, under which Burgoyne surrendered. And agin, when I thought of all that he surrendered that day, and all that America and the world gained, my emotions riz up so powerful, that they wuzn't quelled down a mite, by seein' right on the other side of the house wrote down these words, "Drugs, Oils, etc."

No, oil couldn't smooth 'em down, nor drugs drug 'em; they wuz too powerful. And they lasted jest as soarin' and eloquent as ever till we turned down a cross street, and arrove at the place, jest the identical spot where the British stacked their arms (and stacked all their pride, and their ambitious hopes with 'em). It made a high pile.

Wall, from there we went up to a house on a hill, where poor Baroness Riedesel hid with her three little children, amongst the wounded and dyin' officers of the British army, and stayed there three days and three nights, while shots and sh.e.l.ls wuz a bombardin' the little house -- and not knowin' but some of the shots had gone through her lover husband's heart, before they struck the low ruff over her head.

What do you s'pose she wuz a thinkin' on as she lay hid in that suller all them three days and three nights with her little girls'

heads in her lap? Jest the same thoughts that a mother thinks to-day, as she cowers down with the children she loves, to hide from danger; jest the same thoughts that a wife thinks today when her heart is out a facing danger and death, with the man she loves.

She faced danger, and died a hundred deaths in the thought of the danger to them she loved. I see the very splinters that the cruel sh.e.l.ls and cannon b.a.l.l.s split and tore right over her head. Good honorable splinters and not skairful to look at today, but hard, and piercin', and harrowin' through them days and nights.

Time has trampled over that calash she rode round so much in (I wish I could a seen it); but Time has ground it down into dust.

Time's hand, quiet but heavy, rested down on the shinin' heads of the three little girls, and their Pa and Ma, and pushed 'em gently but firmly down out of sight; and all of them savages who used to follow that calash as it rolled onwards, and all their canoes, and war hoops, and snowshoes, etc., etc.

Yes, that calash of Miss Riedesel has rolled away, rolled away years ago, carryin' the three little girls, their Pa and Ma and all the fears, and hopes, and dreads, and joys, and heartaches of that time it has rolled on with 'em all; on, on, down the dusty road of Oblivion, -- it has disappeared there round the turn of road, and a cloud of dust comes up into our faces, as we try to follow it. And the Injuns that used to howl round it, have all follered on the trail of that calash, and gone on, on, out of sight. Their canoes have drifted away down the blue Hudson, away off into the mist and the shadows. Curius, haint it?

And there the same hills and valleys lay, calm and placid, there is the same blue sparklin' Hudson. Dretful curius, and sort a heart breakin' to think on't -- haint it? Only jest a few more years and we, too, shall go round the turn of the road, out of sight, out of sight, and a cloud of dust will come up and hide us from the faces of them that love us, and them, too, from the eyes of a newer people.

All our hopes, all our ambitious, all our loves, our joys, our sorrows, -- all, all will be rolled away or floated away down the river, and the ripples will ripple on jest as happy; the Sunshine will kiss the hills jest as warmly, and lovin'ly; but other eyes will look on 'em, other hearts will throb and burn within 'em at the sight.

Kinder sad to think on, haint it?

XVIII.

THE SOCIAL SCIENCE MEETING.

One day Josiah and me went into a meetin' where they wuz kinder fixin' over the world, sort a repairin' of it, as you may say.

Some of the deepest, smartest speeches I ever hearn in my life, I hearn there.

You know it is a middlin' deep subject. But they rose to it.

They rose n.o.bly to it. Some wuz for repairin' it one way, and some another -- some wanted to kinder tinker it up, and make it over like. Some wanted to tear it to pieces, and build it over new. But they all meant well by the world, and n.o.body could help respectin' 'em.

I enjoyed them hours there with 'em, jest about as well as it is in my power to enjoy anything. They wuz all on 'em civilized Christian folks and philanthropists of different shades and degrees, all but one. There wuz one heathen there. A Hindoo right from Hindoostan, and I felt kinder sorry for him. A heathen sot right in the midst of them folks of refinement, and culture, who had spent their hull lives a tryin' to fix over the world, and make it good.

This poor little heathen, with a white piller case, or sunthin'

wound round his head (I s'pose he hadn't money to buy a hat), and his small black eyes lookin' out kinder side ways from his dark hombly little face, rousted up my pity, and my sympathy. There had been quite a firm speech made against allowin' foreigners on our sh.o.r.es. And this little heathen, in his broken speech, said, It all seemed so funny to him, when everybody wuz foreigners in this country, to think that them that got here first should say they owned it, and send everybody else back. And he said, It seemed funny to him, that the missionarys we sent over to his land to teach them the truth, told them all about this land of Liberty, where everybody wuz free, and everybody could earn a home for themselves, and urged 'em all to come over here, and then when they broke away from all that held 'em in their own land, and came thousands and thousands of milds, to get to this land of freedom and religion,then they wuz sent back agin, and wuzn't allowed to land. It seemed so funny.

And so it did to me. And I said to myself, I wonder if they don't lose all faith in the missionarys, and what they tell them.

I wonder if they don't have doubts about the other free country they tell 'em about. The other home they have urged 'em to prepare for, and go to. I wonder if they haint afraid, that when they have left their own country and sailed away for that home of Everlastin' freedom, they will be sent back agin, and not allowed to land.

But it comferted me quite a good deal to meditate on't, that that land didn't have no laws aginst foreign emigration. That its ruler wuz one who held the rights of the lowest, and poorest, and most ignerent of His children, of jest as much account as he did the rights of a king. Thinkses I that poor little head with the piller case on it will be jest as much looked up to, as if it wuz white and had a crown on it. And I felt real glad to think it wuz so.

But I went to every meetin' of 'em, and enjoyed every one of 'em with a deep enjoyment. And I said then, and I say now, for folks that had took such a hefty job as they had, they done well, n.o.body could do better, and if the world wuzn't improved by their talk it wuz the fault of the world, and not their'n.

And we went to meetin' on Sunday mornin' and night, and hearn good sermons. There's several high big churches at Saratoga, of every denomination, and likely folks belong to the hull on 'em: There is no danger of folks losin' their way to Heaven unless they want to, and they can go on their own favorite paths too, be they blue Presbyterian paths, or Methodist pasters, or by the Baptist boat, or the Episcopalian high way, or the Catholic covered way, or the Unitarian Broadway, or the Shadow road of Spiritualism.

No danger of their losin' their way unless they want to. And I thought to myself as I looked pensively at the different steeples, "What though there might be a good deal of'wranglin', and screechin', and puffin' off steam, at the different stations, as there must always be where so many different routes are a layin' side by side, each with its own different runners, and conductors, and porters, and managers, and blowers, still it must be, that the separate high ways would all end at last in a serener road, where the true wayfarers and the earnest pilgrims would all walk side by side, and forget the very name of the station they sot out from.

I sez as much to my companion, as we wended our way home from one of the meetin's, and he sez, "There haint but one right way, and it is a pity folks can't see it." Sez he a sithin' deep, "Why can't everybody be Methodists?"

We wuz a goin' by the 'Piscopal church then, and he sez a lookin'

at it, as if he wuz sorry for it, "What a pity that such likely folks as they be, should believe in such eronious doctrines.

Why," sez he, "I have hearn that they believe that the bread at communion is changed into sunthin' else. What a pity that they should believe anything so strange as that is, when there is a good, plain, practical, Christian belief that they might believe in, when they might be Methodists. And the Baptists now," sez he, a glancin' back at their steeple, "why can't they believe that a drop is as good as a fountain? Why do they want to believe in so much water? There haint no need on't. They might be Methodists jest as well as not, and be somebody."

And he walked along pensively and in deep thought, and I a feelin'

somewhat tuckered didn't argue with him, and silence rained about us till we got in front of the hall where the Spiritualists hold their meetin's, and we met a few a comin' out on it and then he broke out and acted mad, awful mad and skernful, and sez he angrily, "Them dumb fools believe in supernatural things. They don't have a shadow of reason or common sense to stand on. A man is a fool to gin the least attention to them, or their doin's. Why can't they believe sunthin' sensible? Why can't they jine a church that don't have anything curius in it? Nothin' but plain, common sense facts in it: Why can't they be Methodists?"

"The idee!" sez he, a breakin' out fresh. "The idee of believin'

that folks that have gone to the other world can come back agin and appear. Shaw!" sez he, dretful loud and bold. I don't believe I ever heard a louder shaw in my life than that wuz, or more kinder haughty and highheaded.

And then I spoke up, and sez, "Josiah, it is always well, to shaw in the right place, and I am afraid you haint studied on it as much as you ort. I am afraid you haint a shawin' where you ort to."

"Where should I shaw?" sez he, kinder snappish.

"Wall," sez I, "when you condemn other folkses beliefs, you ort to be careful that you haint a condemin' your own belief at the same time. Now my belief is grounded in the Methodist meetin'

house like a rock; my faith has cast its ancher there inside of her beliefs and can't be washed round by any waves of opposin'

doctrines. But I am one who can't now, nor never could, abide bigotry and intolerance either in a Pope, or a Josiah Allen.

"And when you condemn a belief simply on the ground of its bein'

miraculous and beyond your comprehension, Josiah Allen, you had better pause and consider on what the Methodist faith is founded.

"All our orthodox meetin' houses, Presbyterian, Baptist, Methodist, Episcopalian, every one on 'em, Josiah Allen, are sot down on a belief, a deathless faith in a miraculous birth, a life of supernatural events, the resurrection of the dead, His appearance after death, a belief in the graves openin' and the dead comin'

forth, a belief in three persons inhabitin' one soul, the constant presence and control of spiritual influences, the Holy Ghost, and the spirits of just men. And while you are a leanin' up against that belief, Josiah Allen, and a leanin' heavy, don't shaw at any other belief for the qualities you hold sacred in your own."

He quailed a very little, and I went on.

"If you want to shaw at it, shaw for sunthin' else in it, or else let it entirely alone. If you think it lacks active Christian force, if you think it is not aggressive in its a.s.saults at Sin, if you think it lacks faith in the Divine Head of the church, say so, do; but for mercy's sake try to shaw in the right place."

"Wall," sez he, "they are a low set that follers it up mostly, and you know it." And his head was right up in the air, and he looked very skernful.

But I sez, "Josiah Allen, you are a shawin' agin in the wrong place," sez I. "If what you say is true, remember that 1800 years ago, the same cry wuz riz up by Pharisees, `He eats with Publicans and sinners.' They would not have a king who came in the guise of the poor, they scerned a spiritual truth that did not sparkle with worldly l.u.s.tre.