Home > Authors Index > Marietta Holley > Samantha at Coney Island > This page
Samantha at Coney Island, a novel by Marietta Holley |
||
Chapter 5. Josiah's Imagination About His Fishin' Exploits |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER FIVE. JOSIAH'S IMAGINATION ABOUT HIS FISHIN' EXPLOITS CARRIES HIM TO A PINT WHERE I HAVE TO REBUKE HIM, WHICH MAKES HIM DRETFUL HUFFY
I'd hearn that the great hotel that wuz nighest to us looked by night jest like one of the fairy palaces we read about in Arabian Nights, and one night we see it. From the ground clear up to the high ruff it wuz all ablaze with lines of flashin' light, and I sez instinctively to myself, "Jerusalem the golden!" and "Pan American Electric Tower!" And I d'no which metafor satisfied me best. 'Tennyrate this had the deep broad river flowin' on in front, reflectin' every glowin' light and buildin' another gleamin' castle down there more beautiful than the one on land. Josiah's only remark wuz "Coney Island!" Everything seems to make him think on't, from a tooth pick to a tower. Ten thousand electric lights wuz the number that lit up that one house, so I hearn. The big engine and chimney they use to turn the water into glorious light, towers up behind the hotel, and made such a noise and shook the buildin' so that folks couldn't stand it, and they jest collared that noise as Josiah would take a dog he couldn't stop barkin' by the scruff of the neck and lock it up in the stable, jest so they took that noise and rumblin' and snaked it way offen into the river in a pipe or sunthin', so it keeps jest as still now up there as if it wuzn't doin' a mite of work. Queer, hain't it? But to resoom. It wuz indeed a fair seen to turn round when you wuz about half way up the flower strewn declivity and look afar off over the wharf with its gay crowd, over the boats gaily ridin' at anchor, and behold the fairy islands risin' from the blue waves crested with castles, and mansions and cottage ruffs, chimblys and towers all set in the green of the surroundin' trees. And, off fur as the eye could see, way through between and around, wuz other beautiful islands and trees covered with spires and ruffs peepin' out of the green. And way off, way off like white specks growin' bigger every minute, wuz great ships floatin' in, and nearer still would be anon or oftener majestic ships and steamers ploughin' along through the blue waves, sailin' on and goin' right by and mindin' their own bizness. Well, when at last we did tear ourselves away from the environin' seen and walk acrost the broad piazzas and into the two immense hotels, as we looked around on the beauty of our surroundin's, nothin' but the inward sense of religious duty seemed strong enough to draw us back to Thousand Island Park, though that is good-lookin' too. But the old meetin' house with its resistless cords, and the cast-iron devotion of a pardner wound their strong links round me and I wuz more than willin' to go back at night. Josiah didn't come with us, he'd gone fishin' with another deacon he'd discovered at the Park. Well, we santered through the bizness and residence streets and went into the free library, a quaint pretty building full of good books with a memorial to Holland meetin' you the first thing, put up there by the hands of Gratitude. And we went into the old stun church, which the dead master of Bonnie Castle thought so much on and did so much for, and is full of memories of him. Whitfield thinks a sight of his writings; he sez "they dignify the commonplace, and make common things seem oncommon." Katrina, Arthur Bonniecastle, Miss Gilbert, Timothy Titcomb the philosopher, all seemed to walk up and down with Whitfield there. And while there we took a short trip to the Lake of the Isles, a lovely place, where instead of boats full of gigglin' girls with parasols, and college boys with yells and oars, the water lilies float their white perfumed sails, and Serenity and Loneliness seem to kinder drift the boat onwards, and the fashion-tired beholder loves to hasten there, away from the crowd, and rest. Every mind can be suited at the Islands, the devotee of fashion can swirl around in its vortex, and for them who don't care for it there are beautiful quiet places where that vortex don't foam and geyser round, and all crowned with the ineffable beauty of the St. Lawrence. And we sailed by the Island of Summer Land (a good name), where a beloved pastor and his children in the meetin' house settled down so long ago that Fashion hadn't found out how beautiful the Thousand Islands wuz. They come here for rest and recreation, and built their cottages along the undulatin' shore in the shape of a great letter S. It wuz a pretty spot. When the boat wuz ready to go back at night I wuz, and wuz conveyed in safety at about six p.m. to the bosom of my family. I say this poetically, for the bosom wuzn't there when I got back; it hadn't come in from fishin' yet, and when it did come it wuz cross and fraxious, for the other deacon had caught two fish and he hadn't any. He said he felt sick, and believed he wuz threatened with numony, but he wuzn't; it wuz only madness and crossness, that kinder stuffs anybody up some like tizik. Well, Whitfield found a letter that made it necessary for him to return to Jonesville to once, and of course Tirzah Ann, like the fond wife and mother she wuz, would take little Delight and go with him. But after talkin' to Josiah, Whitfield concluded they would stay over one day more to go fishin'. So the very next mornin' he got a big roomy boat, and we sot out to troll for fish. The way they do this is to hitch a line on behind the boat and let it drag through the water and catch what comes to it. And as our boat swep' on over the glassy surface of the water that lay shinin' so smooth and level, not hintin' of the rocks and depths below, I methought, "Here we be all on us, men and wimmen, fishin' on the broad sea of life, and who knows what will tackle the lines we drop down into the mysterious depths? We sail along careless and onthinkin' over rush and rapid, depth and shallow, the line draggin' along. Who knows what we may feel all of a sudden on the end of the line? Who knows what we may be ketchin' ontirely onbeknown to us? We may be ketchin' happiness, and we may be layin' holt of sorrow. A bliss may be jerked up by us out of the depth; agin a wretchedness and a heart-ache may grip holt the end of the line. Poor fishers that we be! settin' in our frail little shallop on deep waters over onknown depths, draggin' a onceasin' line along after us night and day, year in and year out. The line is sot sometimes by ourselves, but a great hand seems to be holdin' ours as we fasten on the hook, a great protectin' Power seems to be behind us, tellin' us where to drop the line, for we feel sometimes that we can't help ourselves." I wuz engaged in these deep thoughts as we glided onwards. Josiah wuz wrestlin' with his hat brim, he would have acted pert and happy if it hadn't been for that. At my request he had bought a straw hat to cover his eyes from the sun and preserve his complexion, and so fur is that man from megumness that he had got one with a brim so broad that it stood out around his face like a immense white wing, floppin' up and down with every gust of wind. He had seen some fashionable young feller wear one like it and he thought it would be very becomin' and stylish to get one for a fishin' excursion, little thinkin' of the discomfort it would give him. "Plague it all!" sez he, as it would flop up and down in front of his eyes and blind him, "what made me hear to you, goin' a-fishin' blind as a bat!" Sez I, "Why didn't you buy a megum-sized one? Why do you always go to extremes?" "To please you!" he hollered out from under his blinders. "Jest to please you, mom!" Sez I, "Josiah Allen, you know you did it for fashion, so why lay it off onto me? But," sez I, "if you'll keep still I'll fix it all right." "Keep still!" sez he, "I don't see any prospect of my doin' anything else when I can't see an inch from my nose." "Well," sez I, "push the brim back and I'll tie it down with my braize veil." "I won't wear a veil!" sez he stoutly. "No, Samantha, no money will make me rig up like a female woman right here in a fashionable summer resort, before everybody. How would a man look with a veil droopin' down and drapin' his face?" "Well," sez I, "then go your own way." But the next time a gale come from the sou'west he wuz glad to submit to my drapin' him; so I laid the brim back and tied the veil in a big bow knot under his chin. Then agin he reviled the bow, and said it would make talk. But I held firm and told him I wuzn't goin' to tear my veil tiein' it in a hard knot. And he soon forgot his discomposure in wearin' braize veils, in his happiness at the idee of ketchin' fish, so's to tell the different deacons on't when he got home. [Illustration: "_'I won't wear a veil,' sez he stoutly. But the next time a gale come from the sou'west I laid the brim back and tied the veil in a big bow knot under his chin._" (_See page 82_)] Men do love to tell fish stories. Men who are truthful on every other pint of the law, will, when they measure off with their hands how long the fish is that they ketched, stretch out that measure more'n considerable. Well, as I say, as our boat glided on between the green islands, anon in shadder and then agin out in sunny stretches of glassy seas, I looked off on the glorified distance and thought of things even furder away than that. Tirzah Ann wuz engaged in tryin' to keep the sun out of her face; she said anxiously she wuz afraid she would git a few frecks on her nose in spite of all she could do. Whitfield wuz amusin' Delight, and Josiah ever and anon speakin' of Coney Island and askin' if it wuzn't time to eat our lunch. So the play of life goes on. We didn't ketch much of anything, only I ketched considerable of a headache. Tirzah Ann ketched quite a number of frecks; she complained that she had burnt her nose. Delight did, I guess, ketch quite an amount of happiness, for the experience wuz new to her, and children can't bag any better or more agreeable game than Novelty. And Whitfield did seem to ketch considerable enjoyment; he loves to be out on the water. My pardner drew up one tiny, tiny fish out of the depths; it looked lonesome and exceedingly fragile, but oh how that man brooded over that triumph! And by the time we reached Jonesville and he related that experience to the awe-struck neighbors it wuz a thrillin' and excitin' seen he depictered, and that tiny fishlet had growed, in the fertile sile of his warm imagination, to such a length, that I told him in confidence out to one side, that if I ever hearn him go on so agin about it, and if that fish kep' a growin' to that alarmin' extent, I should have to tell its exact length; it wuz jest as long as my middle finger, for I measured it on the boat, foreseein' trouble with him in this direction. It made him dretful huffy, and he sez, "I can't help it if you do have a hand like a gorilla's." It hain't so; I never wore higher than number 7. But I have never seen him since pull out his hands so recklessly measurin' off the dimensions of that fish, or gin hints that it took two men to carry it up from the boat to the hotel, and insinuate on how many wuz nourished on it, and for how long a time. No, I broke it up. But Josiah Allen hain't the only man that stretches out the fish they have ketched, as if they wuz made of the best kind of Injy rubber. It seems nateral to men's nater to tell fibs about fish. Curious, hain't it? That is one of the curious things that lay holt of our lines. And wimmen have to see squirmin' at their feet anon or oftener, game that flops and wriggles and won't lay still and grows all the time. _ |
||