Samantha at the St. Louis Exposition eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 219 pages of information about Samantha at the St. Louis Exposition.

“Id’no,” sez he, “and I told her so, what wimmen want rights for, or to vote; I never wanted wimmen to vote, I told her they wuz too good, they wuz too near angels to have rights.  You know I’ve always said so, Samantha, and I wuz readin’ a piece a day or two ago, writ by one of the first ministers in the country, and he said that wimmen hadn’t ort to want any rights; they ort to be riz up on a pedestal and I say so too.”

And I sez, “No, Josiah, I can’t go into that with all the rest I have to do, and it seems onreasonable in that minister to want wimmen to climb up onto pedestals when they have to do their own housework.”

“Well, I say it hain’t onreasonable.  You ort to be up on one, Samantha.”

(How much Miss Trimble must have made on him.  He wuz so oncommon clever, and he never wuz megum, poor creeter!) I didn’t really want to git into an argument at that time o’ day, but I see he wuz on the wrong tact, and I felt I must convince him, so I sez in reasonable axents: 

“I jest as lives be on a pedestal as not, I’d kinder love to if I could set, I always did enjoy bein’ riz up, if I had nothin’ to do only to stay up there some time, but wimmen have to git round so much it wouldn’t work.  How could I take a tower histed up like the car of Juggernaut or a Pope in a procession.  I couldn’t get carriers for one thing, and I wouldn’t give a cent to be carried round anyway with my dizzy spells, I should more’n as likely as not fall off.  But that hain’t the main reason I’m agin it, it is too tuckerin’ a job for wimmen.”

“Tuckerin’ to be enthroned on a pedestal with the male sect lookin’ up to you and worshippin’ you.  You call that tuckerin’?” sez he.

“Yes,” sez I, “I do.  How under the sun can I or any other woman be up on a pedestal and do our own housework, cookin’, washin’ dishes, sweepin’, moppin’, cleanin’ lamps, blackin’ stoves, washin’, ironin’, makin’ beds, quiltin’ bed quilts, gittin’ three meals a day, day after day, biled dinners and bag puddin’s and mince pies and things, to say nothin’ of custard and pumpkin pies that will slop over on the level, do the best you can; how could you keep ’em inside the crust histin’ yourself up and down?  And cleanin’ house time——­”

“Mebby,” sez I honestly, “it would come handy in whitewashin’ or fixin’ the stovepipe, but where would it be in cleanin’ mop-boards, or puttin’ down carpets, or washin’ winders, or doin’ a three weeks washin’, or bilin’ soap? or pickin’ geese?  They act like fury shot up on the barn floor.  How could you git our old gander up on a pedestal?  His temper is that fiery, to say nothin’ of settin’ or standin’ on it and holdin’ on to the old thing and pickin’ it.  And raisin’ chickens and washin’ old trousers and overalls, and cleanin’ sullers and paintin’ floors and paperin’, and droudgin’ round all the time, as a woman has to to keep her house comfortable.

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Samantha at the St. Louis Exposition from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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