 | Artemus Ward, his book ; with many comic
illustrations |  |
THE SHAKERS.
The Shakers is the strangest religious sex I ever
met. I'd hearn tell of 'em and I'd seen 'em, with
their broad brim'd hats and long wastid coats; but
I'd never cum into immejit contack with 'em, and
I'd sot 'em down as lackin intelleck, as I'd never
seen 'em to my Show—leastways, if they cum
they was disgised in white peple's close, so I didn't
know 'em.
But in the Spring of 18—,I got swampt in the
exterior of New York State, one dark and stormy
night, when the winds Blue pityusly, and I was
forced to tie up with the Shakers.
I was toilin threw the mud, when in the dim
vister of the futer I obsarved the gleams of a taller
candle. Tiein a hornet's nest to my off hoss's tail
to kinder encourage him, I soon reached the place.
by a tall, slick-faced, solum lookin individooal, who
turn'd out to be a Elder.
“Mr. Shaker,” sed I, “you see before you a
Babe in the Woods, so to speak, and he axes shelter
of you.”
“Yay,” sed the Shaker, and he led the way into
the house, another Shaker bein sent to put my
hosses and waggin under kiver.
A solum female, lookin sumwhat like a last year's
bean-pole stuck into a long meal bag, cum in and
axed me was I athurst and did I hunger? to which
I urbanely anserd “a few.” She went orf and I
endeverd to open a conversashun with the old man.
“Elder, I spect?” sed I.
“Yay,” he sed.
“Helth's good, I reckon?”
“Yay.”
“What's the wages of a Elder, when he understans
his bizness—or do you devote your sarvices
gratooitus?”
“Yay.”
“Stormy night, sir.”
“Yay.”
“If the storm continners there'll be a mess
underfoot, hay?”
“Yay.”
“It's onpleasant when there's a mess underfoot?”
“Yay.”
“If I may be so bold, kind sir, what's the price
of that pecooler kind of weskit you wear, incloodin
trimmins?”
“Yay!”
I pawsd a minit, and then, thinkin I'd be faseshus
with him and see how that would go, I slapt him on
the shoulder, bust into a harty larf, and told him
that as a yayer he had no livin ekal.
He jumpt up as if Bilin water had bin squirted
into his ears, groaned, rolled his eyes up tords the
sealin and sed: “You're a man of sin!” He then
walkt out of the room.
Jest then the female in the meal bag stuck her
hed into the room and statid that refreshments
she ment, the weary travler was agreeable, and I
follered her into the next room.
I sot down to the table and the female in the
meal bag pored out sum tea. She sed nothin, and
for five minutes the only live thing in that room
was a old wooden clock, which tickt in a subdood
and bashful manner in the corner. This dethly
stillness made me oneasy, and I determined to talk
to the female or bust. So sez I, “marrige is agin
your rules, I bleeve, marm?”
“Yay.”
“The sexes liv strickly apart, I spect?”
“Yay.”
“It's kinder singler,” sez I, puttin on my most
sweetest look and speakin in a winnin voice, “that
so fair a made as thou never got hitched to some
likely feller.” [N. B.—She was upards of 40
and homely as a stump fence, but I thawt I'd tickil
her.]
“I don't like men!” she sed, very short.
“Wall, I dunno,” sez I, “they're a rather
see how we could git along without 'em.”
“Us poor wimin folks would git along a grate
deal better if there was no men!”
“You'll excoos me, marm, but I dont think that
air would work. It wouldn't be regler.”
“I'm fraid of men!” she sed.
“That's onnecessary, marm. You ain't in no
danger. Don't fret yourself on that pint.”
“Here we're shot out from the sinful world.
Here all is peas. Here we air brothers and sisters.
We don't marry and consekently we hav no domestic
difficulties. Husbans don't abooze their wives —
wives don't worrit their husbans. There's no children
here to worrit us. Nothin to worrit us here.
No wicked matrimony here. Would thow like to
be a Shaker?”
“No,” sez I, “it ain't my stile.”
I had now histed in as big a load of pervishuns
as I could carry comfortable, and, leanin back in my
cheer, commenst pickin my teeth with a fork. The
female went out, leavin me all alone with the clock.
hed in at the door. “You're a man of sin!” he
sed, and groaned and went away.
Direckly thar cum in two young Shakeresses, as
putty and slick lookin gals as I ever met. It is
troo they was drest in meal bags like the old one
I'd met previsly, and their shiny, silky har was hid
from sight by long white caps, sich as I spose female
Josts wear; but their eyes sparkled like diminds,
their cheeks was like roses, and they was charmin
enuff to make a man throw stuns at his granmother,
if they axed him to. They commenst clearin away
the dishes, castin shy glances at me all the time. I
got excited. I forgot Betsy Jane in my rapter,
and sez I, “my pretty dears, how air you?”
“We air well,” they solumly sed.
“Whar's the old man?” sed I, in a soft voice.
“Of whom dost thow speak — Brother Uriah?”
“I mean the gay and festiv cuss who calls me a
man of sin. Shouldn't wonder if his name was
Uriah.”
“He has retired.”
“Wall, my pretty dears,” sez I, “let's hav sum
fun. Let's play puss in the corner. What say?”
“Air you a Shaker, sir?” they axed.
“Wall, my pretty dears, I haven't arrayed my
proud form in a long weskit yit, but if they was all
like you perhaps I'd jine 'em As it is, I'm a
Shaker pro-temporary.”
They was full of fun. I seed that at fust, only
they was a leetle skeery. I tawt 'em Puss in the
corner and sich like plase, and we had a nice time,
keepin quiet of course so the old man shouldn't
hear. When we broke up, sez I, “my pretty dears,
ear I go you hav no objections, hav you, to a innersent
kiss at partin?”
“Yay,” thay sed, and I yay'd.
I went up stairs to bed. I spose I'd bin snoozin
half a hour when I was woke up by a noise at the
door. I sot up in bed, leanin on my elbers and
rubbin my eyes, and I saw the follerin picter: The
Elder stood in the doorway, with a taller candle in
his hand. He hadn't no wearin appeerel on except
his night close, which flutterd in the breeze like a
sin!” then groaned and went away.
I went to sleep agin, and drempt of runnin orf
with the pretty little Shakeresses, mounted on my
Californy Bar. I thawt the Bar insisted on steerin
strate for my dooryard in Baldinsville and that
Betsy Jane cum out and giv us a warm recepshun
with a panfull of Bilin water. I was woke up arly
by the Elder. He sed refreshments was reddy for
me down stairs. Then sayin I was a man of sin,
he went groanin away.
As I was goin threw the entry to the room where
the vittles was, I cum across the Elder and the old
female I'd met the night before, and what d'ye
spose they was up to? Huggin and kissin like
young lovers in their gushingist state. Sez I, “my
Shaker frends, I reckon you'd better suspend the
rules, and git marrid!”
“You must excoos Brother Uriah,” sed the
female; “he's subjeck to fits and hain't got no
command over hisself when he's into 'em.”
“Sartinly,” sez I, “I've bin took that way
myself frequent.”
“You're a man of sin!” sed the Elder.
Arter breakfust my little Shaker frends cum in
agin to clear away the dishes.
“My pretty dears,” sez I, “shall we yay agin?”
“Nay,” they sed, and I nay'd.
The Shakers axed me to go to their meetin, as
they was to hav sarvices that mornin, so I put on a
clean biled rag and went. The meetin house was
as neat as a pin. The floor was white as chalk and
smooth as glass. The Shakers was all on hand, in
clean weskits and meal bags, ranged on the floor
like milingtery companies, the mails on one side of
the room and the females on tother. They commenst
clappin their hands and singin and dancin.
They danced kinder slow at fust, but as they got
warmed up they shaved it down very brisk, I tell
you. Elder Uriah, in particler, exhiberted a right
smart chance of spryness in his legs, considerin his
time of life, and as he cum a dubble shuffle near
where I sot, I rewarded him with a approvin smile
and sed: “Hunky boy! Go it, my gay and festiv
cuss!”
“You're a man of sin!” he sed, continnerin his
shuffle.
The Sperret, as they called it, then moved a
short fat Shaker to say a few remarks. He sed
they was Shakers and all was ekal. They was the
purest and seleckest peple on the yearth. Other
peple was sinful as they could be, but Shakers was
all right. Shakers was all goin kerslap to the
Promist Land, and nobody want goin to stand at
the gate to bar 'em out, if they did they'd git run
over.
The Shakers then danced and sung agin, and arter
they was threw, one of 'em axed me what I thawt
of it.
Sez I, “What duz it siggerfy?”
“What?” sez he.
“Why this jumpin up and singin? This long
weskit bizniss, and this anty-matrimony idee? My
frends, you air neat and tidy. Your lands is flowin
with milk and honey. Your brooms is fine, and
your apple sass is honest. When a man buys a
kag of apple sass of you he don't find a grate many
I'm sorry to say sum of my New Englan ancesters
used to practiss. Your garding seeds is fine, and if
I should sow 'em on the rock of Gibralter probly I
should raise a good mess of garding sass. You air
honest in your dealins. You air quiet and don't
distarb nobody. For all this I givs you credit.
But your religion is small pertaters, I must say.
You mope away your lives here in single
retchidness, and as you air all by yourselves nothing
ever conflicks with your pecooler idees, except
when Human Nater busts out among you, as
I understan she sumtimes do. [I giv Uriah a sly
wink here, which made the old feller squirm like a
speared Eel.] You wear long weskits and long
faces, and lead a gloomy life indeed. No children's
prattle is ever hearn around your harthstuns — you
air in a dreary fog all the time, and you treat the
jolly sunshine of life as tho' it was a thief, drivin it
from your doors by them weskits, and meal bags,
and pecooler noshuns of yourn. The gals among
you, sum of which air as slick pieces of caliker as
weskits which kiver honest, manly harts, while you
old heds fool yerselves with the idee that they air
fulfillin their mishun here, and air contented. Here
you air, all pend up by yerselves, talkin about the
sins of a world you don't know nothin of. Meanwhile
said world continners to resolve round on her
own axeltree onct in every 24 hours, subjeck to the
Constitution of the United States, and is a very
plesant place of residence. It's a unnatral, on-reasonable
and dismal life you're leadin here. So
it strikes me. My Shaker frends, I now bid you a
welcome adoo. You hav treated me exceedin well.
Thank you kindly, one and all.
“A base exhibiter of depraved monkeys and
onprincipled wax works!” sed Uriah.
“Hello, Uriah,” sez I, “I'd most forgot you.
Wall, look out for them fits of yourn, and don't
catch cold and die in the flour of your youth and
beauty.”
And I resoomed my jerney.
| Artemus Ward, his book ; with many comic
illustrations | |