SAMANTHA AMONG THE BRETHREN.

BY

“JOSIAH ALLEN'S WIFE”

(MARIETTA HOLLEY).

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

1890

TO

All Women

WHO WORK, TRYING TO BRING INTO DARK LIVES

THE BRIGHTNESS AND HOPE OF A

BETTER COUNTRY,

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED.

PREFACE.

Again it come to pass, in the fulness of time, that my companion, Josiah Allen, see me walk up and take my ink stand off of the manteltry piece, and carry it with a calm and majestick gait to the corner of the settin' room table devoted by me to literary pursuits. And he sez to me:

“What are you goin' to tackle now, Samantha?”

And sez I, with quite a good deal of dignity, “The Cause of Eternal Justice, Josiah Allen.”

“Anythin' else?” sez he, lookin' sort o' oneasy at me. (That man realizes his shortcomin's, I believe, a good deal of the time, he duz.)

“Yes,” sez I, “I lay out in petickuler to tackle the Meetin' House. She is in the wrong on't, and I want to set her right.”

Josiah looked sort o' relieved like, but he sez out, in a kind of a pert way, es he set there a-shellin corn for the hens:

“A Meetin' House hadn't ort to be called she—it is a he.”

And sez I, “How do you know?”

And he sez, “Because it stands to reason it is. And I'd like to know what you have got to say about him any way?”

Sez I, “That 'him' don't sound right, Josiah Allen. It sounds more right and nateral to call it 'she.' Why,” sez I, “hain't we always hearn about the Mother Church, and don't the Bible tell about the Church bein' arrayed like a bride for her husband? I never in my life hearn it called a 'he' before.”

“Oh, wall, there has always got to be a first time. And I say it sounds better. But what have you got to say about the Meetin' House, anyway?”

“I have got this to say, Josiah Allen. The Meetin' House hain't a-actin' right about wimmen. The Founder of the Church wuz born of woman. It wuz on a woman's heart that His head wuz pillowed first and last. While others slept she watched over His baby slumbers and His last sleep. A woman wuz His last thought and care. Before dawn she wuz at the door of the tomb, lookin' for His comin'. So she has stood ever sense—waitin', watchin', hopin', workin' for the comin' of Christ. Workin', waitin' for His comin' into the hearts of tempted wimmen and tempted men—fallen men and fallen wimmen—workin', waitin', toilin', nursin' the baby good in the hearts of a sinful world—weepin' pale-faced over its crucefixion—lookin' for its reserection. Oh how she has worked all through the ages!”

“Oh shaw!” sez Josiah, “some wimmen don't care about anythin' but crazy work and back combs.”

I felt took down, for I had been riz up, quite considerble, but I sez, reasonable:

“Yes, there are such wimmen, Josiah, but think of the sweet and saintly souls that have given all their lives, and hopes, and thoughts to the Meetin' House—think of the throngs to-day that crowd the aisles of the Sanctuary—there are five wimmen to one man, I believe, in all the meetin' houses to-day a-workin' in His name. True Daughters of the King, no matter what their creed may be—Catholic or Protestant.

“And while wimmen have done all this work for the Meetin' House, the Meetin' House ort to be honorable and do well by her.”

“Wall, hain't he?” sez Josiah.