Samantha at the St. Louis Exposition | Page 2

got it of Spain.
But 'tennyrate he sold it in 1803 to our country, the writin's bein'
drawed up by Thomas Jefferson, namesake of our own Thomas
Jefferson, Josiah's child by his first wife. Napoleon, or I spoze it would
sound more respectful to call him Mr. Bonaparte, he wanted money bad,

and he didn't want England to git ahead, and so he sold it to us.
He acted some as Miss Bobbett did when she sot up her niece, Mahala
Hen, in dressmakin' for fear Miss Henzy's girl would git all the custom
and git rich. She'd had words with Miss Henzy and wanted to bring
down her pride. And we bein' some like Miss Hen in sperit (she had
had trouble with Miss Henzy herself, and wuz dretful glad to have
Mahala sot up), we wuz more'n willin' to buy it of Mr. Bonaparte. You
know he didn't like England, he had had words with her, and almost
come to hands and blows, and it did come to that twelve years
afterwards.
But poor creeter! I never felt like makin' light of his reverses, for do not
we, poor mortals! have to face our Waterloo some time durin' our lives,
when we have fought the battle and lost, when the ground is covered
with slain Hopes, Ambition, Happiness, when the music is stilled, the
stringed instruments and drums broken to pieces, or givin' out only
wailin' accompaniments to the groans and cries of the dyin' layin' low
in the dust.
We marched onward in the mornin' mebby with flyin' colors towards
Victory, with gaily flutterin' banners and glorious music. Then come
the Inevitable to crush us, and though we might not be doomed to a
desert island in body, yet our souls dwell there for quite a spell.
Till mebby we learn to pick up what is left of value on the lost field, try
to mend the old instruments that never sound as they did before. Sew
with tremblin' fingers the rents in the old tattered banners which Hope
never carries agin with so high a head, and fall into the ranks and march
forward with slower, more weary steps and our sad eyes bent toward
the settin' sun.
But to stop eppisodin' and resoom. I had hearn all about how it wuz
bought and how like every new discovery, or man or woman worth
while, the Purchase had to meet opposition and ridicule, though some
prophetic souls, like Thomas Jefferson, Mr. Livingstone and others,
seemed to look forward through the mists of the future and see fertile
fields and stately cities filled with crowds of prosperous citizens, where

wuz then almost impassable swamps and forests inhabited by whoopin'
savages.
And Mr. Bonaparte himself, let us not forgit in this proud year of
fulfilled hopes and achievement and progress how he always seemed to
set store by us and his words wuz prophetic of our nation's glorious
destiny.
I had knowed all about this but Josiah seemed to delight to instruct me
as carefully as a mother would guide a prattlin' child jest beginnin' to
walk on its little feet. And some times I would resent it, and some times
when I wuz real good natured, for every human bein' no matter how
high principled, has ebbs and flows in their moral temperatures, some
times I would let him instruct me and take it meekly like a child learnin'
its A-B abs.
But to resoom. Day by day Josiah's strange actions continued, and at
intervals growin' still more and more frequent and continuous he acted,
till at last the truth oozed out of him like water out of a tub that has
been filled too full, it wuz after an extra good meal that he confided in
me.
He said the big celebration of the Louisana Purchase had set him to
thinkin' and he'd investigated his own private affairs and had
discovered important facts that had made him feel that he too must
make a celebration of the Purchase of the Allen Homestead.
"On which we are now dwellin', Samantha," sez he. "Seventy-four
acres more or less runnin' up to a stake and back agin, to wit, as the
paper sez."
Sez I, "You needn't talk like a lawyer to me, Josiah Allen, but tell me
plain as a man and a deacon what you mean."
"Well, I'm tellin' you, hain't I, fast as I can? I've found out by my own
deep research (the tin trunk wuzn't more'n a foot deep but I didn't throw
the trunk in his face), I've discovered this remarkable fact that this farm
the very year of the Louisana Purchase came into the Allen family by

purchase. My great-great-grandfather, Hatevil Allen, bought it of
Ohbejoyful Gowdey, and the papers wuz signed the very day