Because they know sunthin’, it takes common sense to make a gooseberry pie as it ort to be. And the more a woman knows and the more justice she demands, the better for her husband. The same sperit that rebels at tyranny and injustice rebels at dirt, disorder, discomfort, and all unpleasant conditions.
I looked ahead with my mind’s eye and see them pretty college girls settled down in pleasant homes of their own, where sanitary laws prevailed, where the babies wuzn’t fed pickles and cabbage, and kep’ in air-tight enclosures. Where the husbands did not have to go outside their own homes to find cheer and comfort, and intelligent conversation, and where Love and Common Sense walked hand in hand toward Happiness and Contentment, Justice, with her blinders offen her eyes, goin’ ahead on ’em. I never liked the idee of Justice wearin’ them bandages over her eyes. She ort to have both eyes open; if anybody ever needed good eyesight she duz, to choose the straight and narrer road, lookin’ backward to see the mistakes she has made in the past, so’s to shun ’em in the future, and lookin’ all round her in the present to see where she can help matters, and lookin’ fur off in the future to the bright dawn of a Tomorrow. To the shinin’ mount of Equal Rights and full Liberty. Where she sees men and wimmen standin’ side by side with no halters or hamperin’ hitchin’ straps on either on ’em. He more gentle and considerate, and she less cowardly and emotional.
Good land! what could Justice do blind in one eye and wimmen on the blind side? But good sensible wimmen are reachin’ up and pullin’ the bandages offen her eyes. She’s in a fair way to git her eyesight. But I’m eppisodin’, and to resoom forward.
VIII.
“OLD MOM NATER LISTENIN’”
There wuz some pleasant talkin’ and jokin’ between bystanders and suffragettes, and then some good natured but keen and sensible speeches. And one pretty speaker told about the doin’s at Albany and Washington. How women’s respectful pleas for justice are treated there. How the law-makers, born and nussed by wimmen and dependent on ’em for comfort and happiness, use the wimmen’s tax money to help make laws makin’ her of no legal importance only as helpless figgers to hang taxation and punishment on.
Old Mom Nater had been listenin’ clost, her sky-blue eyes shinin’ with joy to see her own sect present such a noble appearance in the parade. But when these insults and indignities wuz brung up to her mind agin and she realized afresh how wimmen couldn’t git no more rights accorded to her than a dog or a hen, and worse. For a hen or a dog wouldn’t be taxed to raise money for turkle soup and shampain to nourish the law-makers whilst they made the laws agin ’em—Mom Nater’s eyes clouded over with indignation and resentment, and she boo-hooed right out a-cryin’. Helpless tears, of no more account than other females have shed, and will, as they set on their hard benches with idiots, lunaticks, and criminals.
Of course she wiped up her tears pretty soon, not willin’ to lose any of the wimmen’s bright speeches. But when her tear-drops fell fast, Josiah sez to me, “You’ll see them wimmen run like hikers now, wimmen always thought more of shiffon and fol-de-rols than they did of principle.”
But I sez, “Wait and see,” (we wuz under a awnin’ and protected).
But the young and pretty speaker who wore a light silk dress and exquisite bunnet, kep’ right on talkin’ jest as calmly as if she didn’t know her pretty dress wuz bein’ spilte and her bunnet gittin’ wet as sop, and I sez to Josiah:
“When wimmen are so in earnest, and want anything so much they can stand soakin’ in their best dresses, and let their Sunday bunnets be spilte on their heads, not noticin’ ’em seemin’ly, but keep right on pleadin’ for right and justice, they are in a fair way of gittin’ what they are after.”