Here built they a temple—’twas built on the plan
That he is most noble that’s most of a man;
They laid as foundations the “love of their kind”;
For strength of the structure, firm held they in mind
That no fortune or creed, but justice alone,
Should ever remain as the chief corner stone.
They builded the temple—’twas builded by men
Who were called from the shop, from the mountain and glen.
’Twas builded for men—not for some, as of yore—
’Twas builded of men, from the spires to the floor.
’Twas builded too strong for the strong to transgress,
But ’twas builded too weak, the most weak to oppress.
Pardon; let’s back to Leo’s notes, for Mr. Oseba’s modest candour better suits this prosy age.
SHE CAME—FINALLY.
“And the Lord God said, ‘It is not well that man should be alone; I will make him a help-meet for him.’”
Without irreverence, I would regard this as an excellent idea.
Mr. Oseba, say the notes, gave a most pleasing review of the domestic relations of the Outeroos, with special reference to the position of women.
The notes on this pleasing phase of the oration were full and spirited, but in boiling down some dozen pages I will array the orator’s impressions in my own garb, as though I myself had learned something on this interesting theme.
The stronger and more haughty among the Outeroos are called men, while the more frail, gentle and loquacious are called wo-man, which means that in some way these latter are to be “wooed and won” before reaching the final end of existence.
In old times, man won these fair creatures in a race for life. They “wooed them” with a bludgeon, captured, and dragged them to a hut, and chained them to the door-post until they were “persuaded” to stew the oysters. But this woman, with a shrewdness she is said to have retained even to this day, cunningly devised a trap into which she knew her “lord and master”—an epithet that has survived the wreck of empires—would place his brogan.
From the waste of the “kitchen” she fertilised the soil at the roots of a heavy grass, and it grew into a grain. She moistened a plant, and it opened into a fruit. She tamed the young animal—brought for the stew—and it became the faithful dog. By a cushion of moss she softened the log used by her lord as a pillow, and, on his return with terrapin and salmon berries, she looked into his swarthy face and smiled.