Part 5

No, I didn't git a mite of sympathy from her, and might have knowed it, and I'd better not said a word to her about my forebodin's.

But Uncle Simon Bentley always hears my prognostics with respectful sympathy, and he said after I come out of my meditations, and asked him agin how he would feel to take a woman's name, he sez:

"Thanks to a kind and protectin' Providence, I hain't married. But never! whilst I have the sperit of manhood in me would I, Simon Bentley, ever be called Miss Polly Brown. No, I would cover that alter with my goar, before I would submit to it." And to comfort me he sez, "Josiah, mebby it won't take place in our day."

But I sez, "Simon, I see it jest ahead on us if this infringin' can't be stopped, and I don't see no way to stop it."

But sez Simon in his comfortin' way, "Your book, Josiah, that great work, you forgit that. I believe it will work wonders for our poor strugglin' sect."

"No, Simon," sez I, "I don't forgit that great work for a moment of time; it is the anchor throwed out into the heavin' water of woman's revolt that is a risin' all round us. Sometimes I hope the anchor will touch the solid bottom of man's supremacy, and hold, and then I feel boyed up. But my feelin's ebbs and flows like the mighty ocean to which I have before fittin'ly compared my emotions. We both on us heave up, and heave down. To-day I am a heavin' down. Oh, how deprested and dubersome I do feel," but I went on in tremblin' axents, "I am bound to make this tremenjous effort, and if you and I, Uncle Sime, and the rest of our sect have got to lay down in the dust to be trod on by the feet of underlin's, whilst layin' there under them high heels, I will have the conscientiousness that I have did what I could for my downtrod sect."

My feelin's overcome me so here that I took out my bandanna and wiped my eyes, and Uncle Sime hisen. He looked as cast down as I did, as we both realized our danger from the turrible doin's round us, and instinctively we took holt of hands and sot there sympathizin' for quite a spell.

But anon Uncle Sime had to go home. He lives with his niece and she sez, "if she has to support him, he has got to be promp to his meals, or go without," so he hastened off.

And I summoned up the brave dantless sperit of manhood and walked upright through the kitchen (we'd been settin' on the back stoop). I trod with a firm bold step and braved Samantha's onsympathizin' demeanor as she stood fryin' nut cakes, and retired into the welcome seclusion of the corner sacred to my literary pursuits.

Mekanically I run my hands through the dish-pan heaped with Betsy's poetry. Oh, how sad, when a man has to turn to another female (and one he has always detested) for the sympathy and understandin' denied him on his own hearthstun. And though I despise Betsy Bobbett Slimpsey as a human bein' and a female, yet when torn and wownded from infringin' and cold remarks from my own pardner, I do draw a little mite of comfort from that granny iron dish-pan, and runnin' my hand through the poetry heaped up in it, and read how she looks up to my sect, and the becomin' and reverent views she takes on us, and me in petickular. And how it has always been the goal of her life and should be to every womanly female to be united by hook or by crook to one on us, it soothed me, it brought back the dear old days when man's supremacy wuz onquestioned and he wuzn't infringed on.

And I read how she despises and looks down on the encroachments of the inferior sect to which she belongs, and how she loathes the great tide of the Feminist movement that is risin' up all over the world, threatenin' to sweep us strong males away, as frothy water, if there is enough on't will uproot giant oaks.

I read over piece after piece to cam my sperit, hurt and wownded by infringin', and my pardner's onsympathizin' words, and I picked out the follerin' one as bein' comparitively worthy a place in my great work.

This poem, writ before her marriage, I consider the most touchin'ly pathetic one of all the enormous pile on 'em I had perused. What to a feelin' mind and tender heart is more pitiful than to see a patridge hidin' his head under a maple leaf, and thinkin' his hull body is hid from the hunter? What is more affectin' than to see how Betsy tried to hide her lifelong pursuit of man, and matrimony, under the cold word, _duty_?

"Unless she see her duty plain."

Oh, what a soul of meanin' there is hid under that word, _unless_. A keen eye, and a tender heart can read between the lines her real meanin', her dantless resolve, as plain as the hunter sees the plump body and gray tail feathers of the patridge. But I will not keep the reader longer from the sad but beautiful poem.

STANZAS ON DUTY

_By Betsy Bobbett_

Unless they do their duty see Oh who would spread their sail On matrimony's cruel sea And face its angry gale? Oh Betsy Bobbett I'll remain _unless_ I see my duty plain.

Shall horses calmly brook a halter Who over fenceless pastures stray? Shall females be dragged to the altar, And down their freedom lay? No, no, B. Bobbett I'll remain, _unless_ I see my duty plain.

Beware! beware, oh rabid lover Who pines for intellect and beauty, My heart is ice to all your overtures unless I see my duty, For Betsy Bobbett I'll remain _unless_ I see my duty plain.

Come not with keys of rank and splendor My heart's cold portals to unlock, 'Tis vain to search for feelin's tender Too late you'll find you've struck a rock; For Betsy Bobbett I'll remain _unless_ I see my duty plain.

'Tis vain for you to pine and languish, I cannot soothe your bosom's pain, In vain are all your groans, your blandishments I warn you are in vain; For Betsy Bobbett I'll remain _unless_ I see my duty plain.

You needn't lay no underhanded Plots to ketch me, men desist Or in the dust you will be landed For to the last I will resist. For Betsy Bobbett I'll remain _unless_ I see my duty plain.

VII

ABOUT WIMMEN'S FOOLISH LOVE FOR PETICKULARS

How folkses emotions will sometimes rise up entirely onexpected and onbeknown to them, and git the better on 'em. Of course we male Americans have always foreboded and felt dretful about a certain subject. But this mornin' it come over me like a black flood, the realizin' sense of the enormous labor that votin' would bring onto weak delicate females, and how impossible it wuz for their fraguile constitution and puny strength to stand up under it.

Why, how many many times we statesmen have said and preached and lectured that wimmen wuzn't much more nor less than angels, and ort to be treated as such. Tender delicate flowers, to be kep' from every chillin' breeze of life that tried to blow onto 'em.

Such talk has been one of the greatest comforts of us men, and has been very affectin' and effective with lots of females. As I say I've knowed it and held forth on it for years and years, ever since this loathsome doctrine of Wimmen's Rights become so prominent in Jonesville.

But as many different emotions as I've had about it, never wuz my feelin's so wrought up as upon this occasion I speak of. My steeled pen fairly trembled in my hands, shook by my devotion to Samantha, and my determination if possible to keep her beloved and delicate form from sinkin' down under the awful fateeg of votin', and havin' Rights. I wuz so excited and strung up by my feelin's, that I felt that I must warn her agin about it that very minute, and I hollered to her to come to me to once.

I spoze my voice wuz skairful, my feelin's wuz such, and she come a hurryin' in wipin' her hands on her apron, and sez she, "For the land's sake! what is the matter, Josiah? Have you got a crick?"

"No," sez I, "I've fell into fur deeper waters than any crick. It come over me like a overwhelmin' flood, the thought of the weakness of wimmen, and the arjous and tuckerin' job of votin', and how impossible it wuz for weak wimmen to not sink down under it, and I felt I had to warn you about it this very minute, and entreat you agin to shun it as you would a pizen serpent."

"Well," sez she, "you better forebode to yourself another time. I wuz jest rensin' out my last biler of clothes, and I've got to whitewash the summer kitchen, and paint the buttery floor, and scrape the paper off overhead in the settin' room, so's to paper it to-morrow. And I guess that whitewashin' and scrapin' off that paper with a case knife overhead is as hefty a job as liftin' up a paper ballot, to say nothin' of the biler full of clothes I'm liftin' on and off, and sweatin' over the wash-tub. And I'll thank you to keep your forebodin's and warnin's to yourself in the future, and not call me offen my work." And she went out and shet the door hard.

And that's all the thanks I got for my tender feelin's and overpowerin' desire to keep hardships from her. But I knowed she wuz expectin' company, and fixin' up and preparin' for 'em, so I overlooked it in her, and I presoom to say the thought of that company and the extra good meals we wuz sure to have, had a amelioratin' effect on me. But her hashness won't stop me nor other noble tender hearted males from worryin' about the turrible hardship and labor of votin', and tryin' our best to keep the gentle delicate females we are protectin' and guardin' from plungin' into it.

But I'm so sensitive and my feelin's so easy hurt, that it must have been a minute and a half before my mind settled down agin and I could hold my steeled pen in as firm a grip as heretofore, and resoom my powerful argumentative strain.

Another reason I've argued why wimmen should not vote wuz she would act so awkward in politics she would put in so many petickulars, wimmen's minds hain't stabled, they hain't got horse sense. And they don't nor won't appreciate that good old doctrine that has always been such a comfort to me and Uncle Sime and other statesmen, that what has been always will be, and to let well enough alone. No they have got to be tinkerin' and tryin' to make things better, and interfere, and talk and tell petickulars. Now if a merchant sells 'em cloth for their fambly, instead of buyin' and payin' for it and keepin' their mouth shet as a man would, they'll feel of it and pull it to and fro, fro and to. And if it hain't what he claims it is, if it is shoddy and poor, they'll talk and talk till he has to hustle round and buy good stuff, or they won't trade with him, takin' off his profits jest by petickulars.

And if a grocer lets his eatin' stuff lay round outdoors for the flies to roost on, do you spoze they'll buy that stuff? No, their minds not bein' bigger than them fly specks, they'll hound that man till they make him cover up that stuff or bring it into the house, and every one that has got horse sense knows it makes that man extra work, but what do they care? And if he tries to make a little more money by sellin' things that hain't jest what you might call hullsome--and of course every business man understands that he wants to make all the money he can--why, the woman that buys that stuff once, and thinks it hain't what she wants to feed her fambly on, she begins to tell petickulars; she'll call it rotten, and tell how long it has been in cold storage, she'll say "to lessen population and increase some millionaire's revenue." And she'll call his canned vegetables mouldy, and tell how his canned meat smells, and how it made her children sick, and how Eben Purdy's little girl died after eatin' it, and how it took off old Miss Lanfear.

All these little petickulars she has to dwell on with other wimmen till she gits 'em all rousted up and there will be a dozen talkin' at one time, sez I, and sez he, and sez she, and sez they. And they'll keep it up and jest boycote that man till he has to keep hullsome goods that cost him most as much agin, and of course cuts down his profits, but they don't think of that.

And how them wimmen found fault with the decision of the Supreme court, that pizen could be used to bleach flour, when they knew the Supreme court is composed of the very smartest men in the Nation. And they knowed them supreme men didn't approve of usin' enough pizen in it to kill the aged and infants.

But they had to argy and boast that if they wuz supreme wimmen, they wouldn't had a mite of pizen put into bread, jest as if grown folks can't stand a little pizen now and then. But you can see plain that they claim that wimmen can manage the home and food bizness better than men, and want to find fault with men and git the upper hands on 'em.

And it is jest so with milk. A fool ort to know that it makes a man as much agin work to fuss and clean off his cows and his stables every day, and keep his milk absolutely clean. But what do they care if a man breaks his back cleanin' his stables and washin' off his cows' tits. They'll talk and put in every little petickular about how many babies wuz killed by his bad milk, and how many folks got tomain from it, till they carry the day and git the milk they want. Another man made to toe the mark by petickulars.

And it is jest so with stuff throwed into the street--why, a man can't call his soul his own, and throw a old cabbage or rotten potato into the street without their interferin' with him, and makin' him clean up his primises and keep a covered garbage can.

Now jest imagine what that meddlin' interferin' sperit would be if carried into politics, if public officials wuz a prey to woman's petickulars. Now spozin' a man wuz nominated for some high office that hain't mebby jest exactly square. For as Uncle Sime sez, "What man is square in public life? No," he sez, "you'll find 'em every shape and size, except 4 by 4."

But wimmen can't accept that scientific statement, made by folks that know, that men are made in such a way that public life and politics wears and rubs on their square corners, and digs into and destroys their shape, so as Uncle Sime sez, "They can't help bein' crooked."

But wimmen's brains hain't strong enough, and their naters and consciences hain't elastic enough to comprehend such matters. They always have and always will pay more attention to them little petickulars of Right and Wrong than men have time to. As I've said before, they can't see big, they see little. They'll talk it over together how many million dollars is made by the White Slave trade every year, ketchin' sweet young girls, they'll say by the net of their love, by drink, by pizened needles, flattery, lies, treachery, takin' 'em from health, home and happiness, and throwin' 'em to the lions of Lust and Greed, into livin' deaths.

Oh, yes, they'll put in all the petickulars. And they'll ask how many millions wuz made by highway graft, tax-payers wadin' through mud, whilst high officials, contractors and public grabbers stuff the tax-payer's money in their pockets. And they'll bring up stories about all the other big corporations and money grabbers.

And how much blood money is made yearly by whiskey sellin'? That is the main fountain their petickulars gush from. Now if a smart hustlin' saloon keeper is nominated for some high office and wimmen could vote, what would be the consequence? Why, they would jest onloose them petickulars onto him and he would be washed completely away on 'em.

They wouldn't know any better than to peek and pry into his bizness, and run it down to the lowest notch. Jest as if a bizness that is good enough for the U.S. Govermunt isn't good enough for them. No, their naters bein' such, and they've got such itchin' ears, they'll pry round into every crook and turn of that man's bizness, and talk about it till they git the hull community riled up. The hull wimmen crew will pin on their white ribbings, and git their heads together, tellin' some story agin him, and the bizness he represents, and go into all the petickulars, sez I, and sez he, and sez she, and sez they.

"Le'me see," sez they, "when wuz it he got Hen Daggett so drunk that he went home and whipped his wife, and most killed her and her next baby wuz born a fool.

"And what time o' night wuz it, wuz it ten or twelve, that he got old Chawgo's boy crazy drunk and wantin' to git rid on him, histed him up on his motorcycle and started him for home, and he didn't go half a mile before he fell off and wuz killed.

"And what time of year wuz it, wuz it late in the spring or early in the summer, that them two Wizzel girls wuz took from his saloon drugged and unconscious, and not a hide or hair on 'em seen sence.

"And le'me see, wuz it on a Monday or a Tuesday, that them two men got into a drunken fight in his saloon and both on 'em got killed. No, it wuz on a Wednesday, for I remember I cut my bib apron wrong, I cut it ketrin ways, and jest as I wuz cuttin' it over, I hearn of that big railroad smash-up where two hundred got killed and maimed by a drunken engineer."

Them wimmen would bring up all them little petickulars agin that man, and his bizness lection day, jest to be mean, and to beat him. Every man and woman whiskey had destroyed, all the crime and agony and poverty it has caused, every fambly wrecked by it, every young man ruined, every young girl who went through the saloon into destruction, and the one hundred thousand deaths caused by it every year. They wouldn't know enough to keep their mouths shet at this time when it wuz so important to have 'em shet up; they'd jest clutter up the road to the pole with petickulars. And no matter how flourishin' a bizness that man wuz doin', and how much money he wuz makin', and how much he wuz willin' to pay for votes, helpin' the male community in this way, they'd carry the day agin him.

They can't seem to realize what a loss in propputy it is to the man they're a houndin'. And if you twit 'em of it they'll twit back and ask, What of the one billion, four hundred million dollars loss to the country every year, caused by strong drink, and ask you if you know that as many Americans are killed every year by it as has been killed in all the battles of the world since time begun. Havin' to ask all these little leadin' questions at jest that onconvenient time and take the advantage on him.

And then when they git him turned down and some favorite religious man elected in his place, oh, how their tongues would run agin, tellin' of all the good things he'd done and would do; agin it would be sez I, and sez he, and sez she, and sez they. Wimmen can't seem to learn to set still to home, and knit, no, they have got to meddle and interfere with men's bizness, as fur as they can, and woe be to us if they ever cut loose and run furder.

Why the Hullsale Liquor Dealers' Association will agree with every word I've said. They know what females are, and what they can do when they git their white ribbings on, and are banded together agin 'em, and they begin to tell petickulars. That's what makes 'em fight so agin Woman's Suffrage. They know where they and their bizness would be after a few years of wimmen's petickulars and votin', and they're willin' to pay well them that help 'em.

As I've intimidated before, to a smart hustlin' bizness man who looks out for his own interest, it is absolutely appallin' to see how Woman Suffragists stand in their own light. But in my talk about the shiftless ways of these wimmen, and their tetotle inability to see where their interests lays, I want to make a honorable exception of the modest retirin' She Auntys. Them wimmen, though females, have got some good horse sense; they know which side their bread is buttered and they lay out to keep it right side up. They know who helps butter that bread. They know it is better to ride round in palace cars to their lectures agin Female Suffrage, helped by them who hate that cause like pizen, than it is to walk afoot. And they know enough to grasp special priveliges, and enjoy 'em, and they lay out to help the ones that help them.

Liquor dealers have got oceans of horse sense, and oceans of money, and they let that money flow along where it will do the most good, into female channels if necessary. Anything to dam up the big waters of Reform from risin' up and washin' 'em away, and stop Woman Suffragists from ruinin' their bizness, and tellin' petickulars and votin'. And I'll ask this question of any man or woman with the brains of a angleworm or caterpillar--Hain't it easier to float along with the current, than to fight agin it and go in the other direction? Why a fool ort to know it is.

You won't ketch them She Auntys a peekin' round huntin' for every little petickular about what the Liquor Dealers' Association stands for, and talk and tattle about the effects of liquor sellin', no indeed. And I want to say and own up that when I find a spark of horse sense in a female, I'm willin' to own up to seein' that spark shinin' out agin the background of females' nateral ignorance and folly. We Jonesvillians reconize smartness and horse sense, and I want to encourage and happify them She Auntys by sayin', that the Creation Searchin' Society of Jonesville will never be found throwin' out no slurs agin them. Neither will I as a male man, and a celebrated author, ever be found mockin' and sneerin' at 'em.

Of course they are females, but considerin' the limited amount of brains that females have and their scurcity of horse sense, they have done and are doin' the best they can. The Creation Searchin' Society of Jonesville and the Liquor Dealers' Association stand up hand in hand, with me in the midst, and publicly reconize their humble helpfulness, and what more in the way of honor can any human female ask for?

I always despised petickulars, every male man duz. It's nateral when our minds are took up with big things, big thoughts, petickulars jar on us; we hain't got the time for 'em in our busy lives. But I believe few of my bretheren can say what I can, that petickulars come within one of bein' the death on 'em.

The way on't wuz Samantha wuz to Tirzah Ann's visitin' and wuz took bed sick there, and right while I wuz stark livin' alone, I wuz took down with voylent pains runnin' up and down my spinal collar, and hull body.

But the neighborin' wimmen, friends of Samantha, I will say done all they could for me, they flocked in and filled me up with milk porridge, chicken broth, etc., and sot up with me nights and waited on me, helped by their various husbands. And I should got along all right if it hadn't been for the endless swarm of petickulars they driv into my room.

Talk, talk, talk, and tellin' petickulars, some on 'em smaller than the end of a nat's toe nail.

And one day when I'd been made almost delerious by 'em, I made out to open the stand draw at the head of my bed and git out a pad and pencil, and writ the follerin' verses which come from the very bottom of my soul, Heaven knows!

OWED TO PETICKULARS

_By Josiah Allen, Esq._

I've been bed-sick and very bad, And pains and chills and cramps I've had; And at Tirzah's Samantha come suddenly down With pleuresy pains from heel to crown, She couldn't git home with her plaguey crick-- So they never let her know I wuz sick. But the neighbors turned out good and true And stood by me to help me through, They come alone, and they come in pairs, They come with mules, and they come with mares; And I felt the goodness that in 'em lay And treated 'em well both night and day, Till they brung in them petickulars.

They come from fur, and they come from near, With new wild remedies strange and queer-- My mouth wuz a open and burnin' road Down which the streams of their medicines flowed; Streams of worm-wood and oil of tar, And onions, and warnuts, and goose, and bar; But my mean wuz a christian's all the while-- I sithed and swallered and tried to smile-- Till they brung in them petickulars.