Samantha at Coney Island Part 18
[Ill.u.s.tration: "_Rows of high-headed mettlesome hosses._"]
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE WONDERFUL AND MYSTERIOUS SIGHTS I SAW IN STEEPLE CHASE PARK, AND MY SEARCH THERE FOR MY PARDNER
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE WONDERFUL AND MYSTERIOUS SIGHTS I SAW IN STEEPLE CHASE PARK, AND MY SEARCH THERE FOR MY PARDNER
Steeple Chase Park is most as big as Luny Park, but is mostly one huge buildin' covered with gla.s.s, and every thing on earth or above, or under the earth, is goin' on there, acres and acres of amus.e.m.e.nts (so-called) in one gla.s.s house.
As I went in, I see a immense mirror turnin' round and round seemin'ly invitin' folks to look. But as I glanced in, I tell the truth when I say, I wuzn't much bigger round than a match, and the thinness made me look as tall as three on me.
"Oh," sez I, "has grief wore my flesh away like this? If it keeps on I shan't dast to take lemonade, for fear I shall fall into the straw and be drowned."
A bystander sez, "Look agin, mom!"
I did and I wuzn't more'n two fingers high, and wide as our barn door.
I most shrieked and sez to myself, "It has come onto me at last, grief and such doin's as I've seen here, has made me crazy as a loon." And I started away almost on a run.
All of a sudden the floor under me which looked solid as my kitchen floor begun to move back and forth with me and sideways and back, to and fro, fro and to, and I goin' with it, one foot goin' one way, and the other foot goin' somewhere else; but by a hurculaneum effort I kep' my equilebrium upright, and made out to git on solid floorin'.
But a high-headed female in a hobble skirt, the hobbles hamperin her, fell prostrate. I felt so shook up and wobblin' myself, I thought a little Scripter would stiddy me, and I sez, "Sinners stand on slippery places."
"I see they do!" she snapped out, lookin' at me; "but I can't!"
I sez to myself as I turned away, "I'll bet she meant me." But bein'
tuckered out, I sot down on a reliable-lookin' stool, the high-headed woman takin' another one by my side--there wuz a hull row of folks settin' on 'em--when, all of a sudden, I d'no how it wuz done or why, but them stools all sunk right down to the floor bearin' us with 'em onwillin'ly.
I scrambled to my feet quick as I could, and as I riz up I see right in front on me the gigantick, shameless female Bildad had as good as told me Josiah had been flirtin' with. I knowed her to once, the gaudy, flashin' lookin' creeter, bigger than three wimmen ort to be; she wuz ten feet high if she wuz a inch. As she come up to me with mincin' steps, I sez to her in skathin' axents:
"What have you done with my innocent pardner? Where is Josiah Allen?
Open your guilty breast and confess." And now I'm tellin' the livin'
truth, as she towered up in front on me, her breast did open and a man's face looked out on me. My brain tottled, but righted itself with relief, for it wuz not Josiah; it wuz probable some other woman's husband. But I sez to myself, let every woman take care of her own husband if she can; it hain't my funeral.
And I hurried off till I come out into a kinder open place with some good stiddy chairs to set down on, and some green willers hangin' down their verdant boughs over some posy beds. Nothin' made up about 'em.
Oh how good it looked to me to see sunthin' that G.o.d had made, and man hadn't d.i.c.kered with and manufactured to seem different from what it wuz. Thinks I, if I should take hold of one of these feathery green willer sprays it wouldn't turn into a serpent or try to trip me up, or wobble me down. They looked beautiful to me, and beyond 'em I could see the Ocean, another and fur greater reality, real as life, or death, or taxes, or anything else we can't escape from.
[Ill.u.s.tration: "_I'm tellin' the livin' truth, as she towered up in front on me, her breast opened and a man's face looked out on me._" (_See page 253_)]
Settin' there lookin' off on them mighty everlastin' waves, forever flowin' back and forth, forth and back, the world of the flimsy and the false seemed to pa.s.s away and the Real more nigh to me than it did in the painted land of shams and onreality I had been pa.s.sin' through.
And as I meditated on the disgraceful sight I had seen--that gaudy, guilty creeter with a man concealed in her breast. For if it wuzn't a guilty secret, why wuz the door shet and fastened tight, till the searchlight of a woman's indignant eyes brought him to light?
Thinkin' it over calmly and bein' reasonable and just, my feelin's over that female kinder softened down, and I sez to myself, what if there wuz a open winder or door into all our hearts, for outsiders to look in, what would they see? Curious sights, homely ones and beautiful, happy ones and sorrowful, and some kinder betwixt and between. Sacred spots that the nearest ones never got a glimpse on.
Eyes that look acrost the coffee pot at you every mornin' never ketched sight on 'em, nor the ones that walk up and down in them hidden gardens. Some with veiled faces mebby, some with reproachful orbs, some white and still, some pert and sa.s.sy.
Nothin' wicked, most likely; nothin' the law could touch you for; but most probable it might make trouble if them affectionate eyes opposite could behold 'em, for where love is there is jealousy, and a lovin'
woman will be jealous of a shadder or a scare-crow. It is nateral nater and can't be helped. But if she stopped to think on't, she herself has her hid-away nooks in her heart, dark or pleasant landscapes, full of them, you never ketch a glimpse on do the best you can. And jealous curosity goes deep. What would Josiah see through my heart's open door? What would I see in hisen? It most skairs me to think on't. No, it hain't best to have open doors into hearts. Lots of times it would be resky; not wrong, you know, but jest resky.
Thus I sot and eppisoded, lookin' off onto the melancholy ocean, listenin' to her deep sithes, when onbid come the agonizin' thought, "Had Josiah Allen backslid so fur and been so full of remorse and despair, that his small delicate brain had turned over with him, and he had throwed himself into the arms of the melancholy Ocean? Wuz her deep, mournful sithes preparin' me for the heart-breakin' sorrow?" I couldn't abear the thought, and I riz up and walked away. As I did so a bystander sez, "Have you been up on the Awful Tower?"
"No," sez I, "I've been through awful things, enough, accidental like, without layin' plans and climbin' up on 'em." But Hope will always hunch Anxiety out of her high chair in your head and stand up on it. I thought I would go upstairs into another part of the buildin' and mebby I might ketch a glimpse of my pardner in the dense crowd below.
And if you'll believe it, as I wuz walkin' upstairs as peaceful as our old brindle cow goin' up the south hill paster, my skirts begun to billow out till they got as big as a hogsit. I didn't care about its bein' fashion to not bulge out round the bottom of your skirts but hobble in; but I see the folks below wuz laughin' at me, and it madded me some when I hadn't done a thing, only jest walk upstairs peaceable.
And I don't know to this day what made my clothes billow out so.
But I went on and acrost to a balcony, and after I went in, a gate snapped shet behind me and I couldn't git back. And when I got to the other side there wuzn't any steps, and if I got down at all I had to slide down. I didn't like to make the venter, but had to, so I tried to forgit my specs and gray hair and fancy I wuz ten years old, in a pig-tail braid, and pantalettes tied on with my stockin's, and sot off. As I went down with lightnin' speed I hadn't time to think much, but I ricollect this thought come into my hara.s.sed brain:
Be pardners worth all the trouble I'm havin' and the dretful experiences I'm goin' through? Wouldn't it been better to let him go his length, than to suffer what I'm sufferin'? I reached the floor with such a jolt that my mind didn't answer the question; it didn't have time.
All to once, another wind sprung up from nowhere seemin'ly, and tried its best to blow off my bunnet. But thank Heaven, my good green braize veil tied round it with strong lutestring ribbon, held it on, and I see I still had holt of my trusty cotton umbrell, though the wind had blowed it open, but I shet it and grasped it firmly, thinkin' it wuz my only protector and safeguard now Josiah wuz lost, and I hastened away from that crazy spot.
[Ill.u.s.tration: "_As I went down with lightnin' speed I had'nt time to think much._" (_See page 258_)]
As I pa.s.sed on I see a hull lot of long ropes danglin' down. On top of 'em wuz a trolley, and folks would hang onto the handle and slide hundreds of feet through the air. But I didn't venter. Disinclination and rumatiz both made me waive off overtures to try it.
Pretty soon I come to a huge turn-table, big as our barn floor. It wuz still and harmless lookin' when I first see it, and a lot of folks got onto it, thinkin' I spoze it looked so shiny and good they'd like to patronize it. But pretty soon it begun to move, and then to turn faster and faster till the folks couldn't keep their seats and one by one they wuz throwed off, and went down through a hole in the floor I know not where.
As I see 'em disappear one by one in the depths below, thinks I, is that where Josiah Allen has disappeared to? Who knows but he is moulderin' in some underground dungeon, mournin' and pinin' for me and his native land. Of course Reason told me that he couldn't moulder much in two days, but I wuz too much wrought up to listen to Reason, and as I see 'em slide down and disappear, onbeknown to myself I spoke out loud and sez:
"Can it be that Josiah is incarcerated in some dungeon below? If he is, I will find and release him or perish with him."
A woman who looked as if she belonged there, hearn me and sez, "Who is Josiah?" "My pardner," sez I, and I continued, "You have a kind face, mom; have you seen him? Have you seen Josiah Allen?"
[Ill.u.s.tration: "_Pretty soon it begun to move and one by one they wuz throwed off and went down I know not where._" (_See page 260_)]
"Describe him," sez she, "there wuz a man here just now hunting for some woman."
"Oh, he is very beautiful!"
"Young?" sez she.
"Well, no; about my age or a little older."
"Light complexion? Dark hair and eyes? Stylish dressed?"
"No, wrinkled complexion, bald, and what few hairs he's got, gray."
She smiled; she couldn't see the beauty Love had gilded his image with.
Sez I, "If he's incarcerated in some dungeon below, I too will mount the turn-table of torture, and share his fate or perish on the turn table."