She wuz a-settin' down. Poor creeter, she wuz tired; and then agin she had seen trouble—lots of it.
Her left arm was a-restin' firm on a kind of a square block, with "The Rights of Man" carved on it, and half hidin' them words wuz a sword, which she also held in her left hand.
The rights of Man and a sword wuz held in one hand, jest as they always have been.
But, poor creeter! her right arm wuz gone—her good right hand wuz nowhere to be seen.
I don't like to talk too glib about the judgments of Providence. The bad boys don't always git drownded when they go fishin' Sundays—they often git home with long strings of trout, and lick the good boys on their way home from Sunday-school. Such is real life, too oft.
But I couldn't help sayin' to Josiah—
"Mebby if they had put onto that little monument she holds, 'The Rights of Man and Woman'—mebby she wouldn't had her arm took off."
But anyway, judgment or not, anybody could see with one eye how one-sided, and onhandy, and cramped, and maimed, and everything a Republic is who has the use of only one of her arms. Them that run could read the great lesson—
"Male and female created He them."
Both arms are needed to clasp round the old world, and hold it firm—Justice on one side, Love on the other.