“Yes, E Pluribus has got pretty well off, but what do you think Madam of the rings he wears on his honored fingers? What do you think of his choosin’ Tweed for raiment? What do you think of his wearin’ such dirty clothin’ as he has wore of late, and so thin too, so awfully thin.”
I declare for’t, I was most mad to think of anybodys tryin’ to bring me down from the height I stood upon, by talkin’ about store clothes and jewelry; but bein’ very polite in my demeanor, I answered him mildly, that I didn’t believe in anybodys wearin’ dirty clothes, and I never had no opinion of Tweed, nor none of that kind of cloth; it was slazy, and liable to drop all to pieces, and I’d ruther look further and pay more for cloth that was firmer and would stand more of a strain.
“Yes,” says he, “that is jest my opinion, and I think if E Pluribus wants to preserve his health he must keep cleaner, and be a little more careful about the material he chooses to protect his honored form; and in my opinion, he would look fur better if he didn’t wear so many rings on his venerable fingers; money rings; and wheat rings; and railroad rings.” He went on and named over a hull lot of jewelry, but I thought to myself that he was makin’ a little too free to talk with a perfect stranger, and I answered him in pretty cold tones:
Says I, “I never approved of old men’s wearin’ jewelry;” and says I, in still more frigid tones, “I never, even in my young days thought a man looked any the better for wearin’ ear-rings;” then I drew Josiah onwards down a path that looked shady, and considerable still and quiet; but jest as we moved on a man standin’ in front of us spoke up in a awe struck tone, and says he:
“That gentleman that jest spoke to you was a English Lord.”
“Well,” says I, “Lord or no lord, I don’t over and above like his looks; he looks smart, but kinder mean.”
Jest then all of a sudden, on happenin’ to turn the eye of my speck onto a little bench under a shade tree, I see settin’ there a friend I knew; I see a face that telescopes are bein’ aimed at by the envious to spy out every little freckle, spot and wrinkle; (and where is there a complexion however light, that can stand firm under a telescope, and the strong glarin’ light of the present time, without showin’ a wrinkle?) It was the face of a man I respected, and almost loved, (a meetin’ house love, calm, yet firm as a settin’ hen.)