Mrs.Wade, a scared-looking little woman, stood in the hall and gave me her hand as I went in.
"Good evening, Mr .-- --," said she.
"Mr.Vandemark," said the judge.

"My body-guard, Mrs.Wade." The good lady looked at my worn, tight-fitting corduroys, at my clean boiled shirt which I had done up myself, at my heavy boots, newly greased for the occasion, and at my bright blue and red silk neckerchief, and turned to other guests.

After all I was dressed as well as some of the rest of them.

There are many who may read this account of the way the Boyds, the Burnses, the Flemings, the Creedes, the Stones and others of our county aristocracy, came to this party in alpacas, delaines, figured lawns, and even calicoes, riding on loads of hay and in lumber wagons with spring seats, who may be a little nettled when a plain old farmer tells it; but they should never mind this: the time will come when their descendants will be proud of it.

For they were the John Aldens, the Priscillas, the Miles Standishes and the Dorothy Q's of as great a society as the Pilgrim Fathers and Pilgrim Mothers set a-going: the society of the great commonwealth of Iowa.
The big supper--I guess they would call it a dinner now--served in the large room on a long table and some smaller ones, was the great event of the party.