Part 2

The next subject allied the last, on to which I have been trying my train of thoughts to switch, Is one to which a common word is applied, That just as well fits many other things beside; But the meaning of which comes easily when tried; And seems to pop into your heads with no upheaval, Is that natural crime called “the social evil.” Now, I did not make people and neither did you, But if a certain inspired book be true, Some one made man for a start, And then chopped out him a piece near his heart, And constructed another of a little different sort. If this be true the “some one” must be divinity For, ever since, there has been a mysterious affinity, Between the two kinds in every community. On this subject we must not too widely roam, Because it might bring some trouble home, To some of you married men who every now and then Feel like jumping out of your own pen. Legislation and investigation and even humiliation, Over all creation, in homes of every station, Among peoples of every tribe and nation, Have to this offense brought emancipation. Women have been burned at the stake, In attempting to make them forsake, The lives they were leading, the men they were bleeding. In all your statute books, in corners and nooks, Laws have been framed against every thing that looks Towards countenancing any form of prostitution: Yet with all this and your contribution, In your vain attempts to revise the constitution Of woman and man ever since the world began, You have not yet laid the foundation For killing this wicked institution. You have tried segregation into dark streets, Where your own policemen lose their beats; You have tried fines in the police courts, Where they fetch up all the regular sports; You have even gone yourself among the slums; And feigned to be treating them as your chums, Doing your levelest to put them under your thumbs, And yet this evil does not seem to succumb; Now what can we do but to stop trying, And to our several good wives lying About where we’ve been now and then. You let this subject alone and stay at home As much as you can for the good of man. The more you talk and act wise, The more you’ll advertise the thing to eyes That see and ears that hear When you think no eavesdropper is near.

Woman Suffrage

As my train of thought rumbled over the Last topic it nearly tumbled; And, metre, I see, was hard to gee: But the subject next calling for my attention, Has me so perplexed that I scarcely can mention Even the little that I know and the facts show About woman suffrage more than you already know. Because I once rode with Phoebe Cousins And have read suffrage pieces by dozens; I’ve even heard Susan B. at the time that she Her speeches did make our customs to break, And yet, with all of that, little is under my hat, To enlighten you or tell you where I’m at Upon this subject great where women of late Their rights to get are defying the state. In Old Great Britt’n many of ’em are sitt’n Starving in jails sooner than lower their sails. But, considering it all, it looks to me, That if you make your ballots universally free To every living man who on top of earth walks And to every single, solitary woman who talks You wouldn’t help us much to get us out of the clutch Of bad laws passed and the evil designing of such As our liberties would take to--beat the Dutch.

Honesty

If in all your acquaintance, you know an honest man, Produce him and introduce him to me if you can, That I may get the likeness of his face To emboss in gold for a model to the human race; In my epic I’ll give him a prominent place. Now, don’t get miffed at me, till my meaning you see And my definition you fully understand of honesty. I can find plenty of people anywhere Who will not lie like a tiger in his lair, Ready to pounce upon you, your neck to break, Your horse to steal and your watch to take; Who will not break into your house at night, And commit burglary without any light; Or in your pocket slip his slimy hands To snake out your money where he stands; Or who will not murder, rob and plunder Or steal your child your roof from under; Or who will not commit any of your crimes And pay all that they owe, even to dimes And contracts keep square within the lines; And yet none of these come up you see, To my idea of what true honesty must be. Now an honest man will strictly follow facts In every thing he thinks, believes, or acts; When he knows the truth that will guide his way. Where there are no winding paths for him to stray. He will not suppress the evidence in a case, Where some gain may come to him in his race For gold, ambition, pride, or even grace. Without uttering a word, the biggest lie ever heard, May fly out with wings of the fleetest bird, And in its wake its venom shake over our heads, Bringing distress and grief its desolation sheds. By simple look, wink, or nod of the head, We give assent to whatever is said; And in that way push falsehood straight ahead. Nothing at all may be asked, no inquiry made, Still we should tell about the horse we trade; If any faults he have, ring bone, spavin joint, Pole evil, swinny or any other weak point, We should spit it out right away And not wait for the other fellow to say. If a house you have to sell where one must dwell, Tell about the plumbing and everything as well, That makes your house unsuited to him you’d sell. If pastor of some orthodox church you may be; And find things in the Bible that can’t agree With reason and sense, don’t get upon your knee And pray grace to help you see that two equals three. Speak the truth, lose your job and stay free. When you go upon the street and a stranger meet Who seems to know you, don’t be so sweet, And claim to know his face while you greet. When dressed up in your only Sunday suit That some one admires, don’t begin to hoot That it is only your old every-day suit. When asked a simple question you cannot answer Don’t say that you’ve just forgot and be a romancer, Come out with the truth, say you don’t know. When inquiry is made as to what church you go, If you don’t go to any, just say so; Don’t pretend that you go to different ones “You know.” If you’re running a bank and get short on cash Where to extend accommodation might cause a smash, Don’t squint your goggled eyes and look wise, And claim that you’re moving the crop, otherwise, You’d be too glad to take a loan of that size. When you are specially invited to play or sing, And are pining to hear your own piano ring Don’t say that you’re out of practice here of late, When you’ve done nothing but practice for that date. If some one cordially asks you to have a drink, Don’t tell him that you, yourself, was on the brink Of inviting him with you in a social glass to link. When you have old clothes lying on the floor That you are about to hand over to the poor, Don’t pretend that you’ve them simply outgrown, When in the rag-bag they’ve actually been thrown. When some dear friend implores you for a ten Don’t pull your coin case where money had been, As if he didn’t know where your full bill book stayed, In your hip pocket crammed, the bills nicely laid. When in your swift automobile you ride, Don’t ask any one to sit by your side, Ride by yourself and flatter your pride, That everybody’s observing how slick you glide. When you get on your new spring hat and green cravat, Don’t break your back trying to be so straight, But let modesty all your demeanor regulate. Don’t feel so grand, and swagger as you go Forgetting to whom for those things you owe. You are dishonest in the way you treat your wife; You go to clubs and revel in high life; You smoke, chew and drink to your full, While she stays at home the baby buggy to pull. You go outing and have a jolly time; And, when you start out, you flip her a dime; When you do hand out a ten her things to buy, You pull it out slow and heave a deep sigh, And before you leave you almost make her cry, Saying so very much about hard times being nigh; If you ever spend a dollar freely in your life Let it be the dollar you deliver to your wife. Sling it out and say, “Money grows on trees!” If she wants more you’ll dash it to the breeze. You don’t always tell your wife where you’ve been, And I don’t advise you to, for I don’t begin To tell mine all the places where I go And the reasons for which I’ll never show. You are dishonest in listing for your tax, In giving in notes and bonds hid away in cracks; And the value of your things you put so low That when th’ assessor’s gone you don’t know Where you’ll get your next meal, so poor you feel. When you take your seat on the witness stool, And swallow that solemn oath under the court rule, The things that help your case, your lawyer told, In your memory seem to stay with an iron hold; But those circumstances that against you militate Appear entirely faded off your memory plate. A falsehood acted, spoken, thought or believed Seems justifiable when the one by it deceived Had no right to elicit the truth from you, And with the matter in dispute had nothing to do; But was merely intermeddling, taking in the view Of people’s affairs to glut his curious mind And get into trouble if the same he’d find. Of all the animals on earth we find anywhere Man’s the only dishonest one I do declare, Unless the fox be called dishonest when to lead The howling pack off his track, he runs at full speed, And turns around and comes back over the same track And then quickly darts off somewhere to hide, While the hounds on the old straight track relied, And bound ahead beyond where the fox turned back, Thinking he’s gone on and thus lose the track. This clever deceit is accomplished so neat, By the sly little fox who is hard to beat. You may take the meanest horse any day, While munching away on his bale of hay, And he’ll kick, bite, and run all the others away, Until he gets his belly full, when he leaves And lets the others eat the rest of the sheaves; And doesn’t lock them up in a safety deposit box. When a man’s wants are supplied, he locks Up from all others the things he cannot use, If he lived a thousand years his stomach to abuse. Civilization made us dishonest, nature never did; Deceit comes from cultivation and we’ll never rid Ourselves from its blighting evils till we undo Many of our laws and customs made and passed by you. Man could be made honest in a very few years, If he could be held respectable among his peers; But if one of us should get honest all at once, We’d be hauled up for being a dunce; And, an inquisition had to ascertain whether we’re mad. Our behavior would to others seem so queer, That they would flee from us in bodily fear. So we will have to let reformation work slow, Until the full meaning of my epic you know.

Jim Saltenstall

(A Digression.)

A certain man, stout and medium tall Dwelt near us once, named Jim Saltenstall. The most peculiar thing about this man, Was not his name nor distended span. A powerful limb was he of the law, In which he exercised his massive jaw, In justice courts if chance he saw, To display his wit or pick a flaw, In some contention neighbors hate, Where he was ready and never too late, To get a V for his windy prate. A farm beside, where he did reside, Claimed his skill and special pride. He handled stock and rode his nag, And had many things about which to brag. In cows and swine his money he stuck To raise for profit and keep him up. The clothes he wore hung on him loose, Except when he did faultlessly spruce Before his friends and neighbors to strut In court, to pull his client out of a rut. He had one pair of extra sized pants, Made by a cousin or one of his aunts, Known all around by every girl and boy, In his vicinity, made of brown corduroy. This pair loose he’d usually wear With no chance for the brush to tear. One sultry afternoon in the middle of June, A couple of spinsters riding along soon Discovered on one side of the road This pair of pants where it was “throwed.” As they drew up close to the spot Their nag whirled around in a trot; The pants were moving and jumping about These maids their wits scaring half out. No James was by them seen at all, But they knew the trousers of Saltenstall, Who had hid in weeds with none on at all. This mystery to them riding in the lane, He never appeared and offered to explain. Weeks passed by before they laid eye Upon Saltenstall for whom they did spy, This vision and its meaning to reveal. They imagined they heard pigs squeal, So by ifs and whats and twisting twigs, They guessed the pants were full of pigs. This story is true, and the riddle plain: James found in his pasture near the lane, That his favorite sow the stork had blessed, With a litter of pigs, so he was distressed, To contrive a scheme to take pigs to barn, And have them housed and shielded from harm. No sack had he in which to fetch the pigs, So these pants were used with his rigs. When on his shoulders his pigs he did load, In plain view he saw the maids in the road. They were coming straight ahead in full view, So off his shoulders the whole thing he threw, And took to the weeds to get out of view. These ladies came along, all as we have said, And found matters as stated under this head.

Science

We do not mean by the title above, Christian Science, which so many love; And, against which we have no thought to inveigh, Because it is accomplishing some good in its day, By teaching us to see that the power of the mind Controls our bodies more than others find. By science, we mean all knowledge gained From whatever source it may be attained; By inventions, laws, medicine, therapeutics, Sociology, geology, astronomy, epizootics, Geography, orthography, mentality, logics, Government, devilment, war and fratricide; And this list might be multiplied if we tried. But of all those things we cannot make review. For ages men did not know that the earth was round; It was supposed to flat, and all the ground Rested on the back of one man, whose picture is found Still in old geographies, standing under his load, With his feet upon the back of some large toad, Or tortoise; and, that the sun was slipped clean Back west to east, at night by us unseen, In the chariot of the Sun-god with his team Of steeds as swift as if they were run by steam. These views by them held sacred were impressed On others who even speculatively guessed, That there might be error in the sacred book, Or else those who read failed to look Deep enough into lines between lines, Where sometimes most information one finds. Shaking off their fear, daring men began to peer, Into the upper air with telescopes, far and near; Until upon them dawned beyond escape, By the picture on the moon and its shape, That, book or no book, the world was a globe. And, to fully prove it, they toiled and strove, Till Columbus the Great, did daringly navigate Far enough to see it and stop the debate. That one hazardous stroke by this brave man Struck the shackles from science and began A new era, in which truth conquers belief, And consecrated error dies to our relief. The door now being thrown open wide, men pried, And delved into nature with rapid stride. By the light of astronomy as their guide, It was discovered that those specks that shine High up in the heavens at the night time Are suns and worlds that in their orbits move Around greater centers in distance so high As not to be seen as when through glass we spy. That all those moving worlds by one supreme law Of gravitation yield their obedience in awe. To the bottom of the sea men dived to find The wrecks of ages there accumulated by time, As old ocean waves roll over them its slime. Into the strata of the rocks marking each age As time passed written on them page by page, The history of the earth before the historic age; Men have dug up fossils for scholar and sage. With silken thread, they drew lightning from the sky, And harnessed it up our trade and commerce to ply. By microscope and tools chemists use, The varied elements have been made to fuse Into numerous new substances by man used In the varied arts to which existence imparts The glories of the times from which we start. The doctor, with his scalpel and his knife, Discovers new means for preserving human life. The inventor with his machines, human labor to supply, To the plowman who plods on his weary way; To the weaver who with his hands from day to day, His cloth he did weave in the old-fashioned way. The builder with his bricks of sand and clay Once made with mud securely encased in hay His stone, plaster, lumber, hardware and nails, All made by machinery which little labor entails. The merchant with his cargo laden in a ship, Propelled by steam as over the deep they slip. The baker with his ovens and pans, Bakes and makes his bread without hands. All these with telegraph and telephones supplied, Carrying messages as over wires they slide, With lightning speed, bringing to each his need, Shortening time and obliterating space, As each against the other runs his race, For gains in the occupations they chase. The grave lawyer sitting wise at his desk, Dictating to stenographers things he may suggest, About cases in court or making a report, Of some opinion great in matters of weight About all the business to which they relate In the matters and things of those who wait Their troubles to tell and business to state. The iron horse on tracks of belted steel, With throttle and valve, and whistle peal Rolling over the land, propelled by steam, Crossing mountain, valley and stream, On tracks, rails and bridges of steel. The flying machine shot up in mid air Sailing over continents in feats they dare, Rivaling the plumed eagle in his flight, Or those swift birds that pass in a night, From out their abodes beyond human sight. The magic needle that points to the pole, Guiding navigation on oceans untold; And those brave adventurers seeking the pole, Where the earth on its axis turns, To find that for which their ambition burns: Losing their crew in the cold, wintry snow, Too weak from hunger, them to follow. And onward, how far can the genius of man go? With Edison, the wizard, putting on a show Of actors, scenes and stage, singing as they go, Talking and walking, dancing and playing airs On every instrument that man’s skill prepares All through a little machine, run by a wheel; And electric apparatus he did conceal, From watching eyes his invention might steal. And, there’s Marconi, flashing across land and sea His messages of glad tidings without wires on tree, Or pole, and nothing to guide his machine, So far as any one has yet seen. If such men had appeared in the olden day, Before Columbus had marked out the way, They surely would have burned at the stake, For witchcraft and all for conscience’ sake. Yet with the strides men have made, With sickle, sword, guns, knife and spade, With piston, valve, gears, driver and wheel, Driven by light, electricity, steam and heated steel, Their thought flying upon the world to reveal The acts and doings of nature and of man, From ocean to ocean all over the broad land And even over the wide extended seas we expand, With telegraphic cables from land to land, Bringing all the forces of nature at our command. With it all, we have made a very little head Ourselves to control, by designing leaders led. Those simple rules, by which nature acts, Might be applied to government its burden to relax, And take from the shoulders of labor the fearful tax, To support all the leaches now upon our backs.

Blew Inn

(A Digression)

A sunny Sunday morning in May, Aimlessly to woods did I stray. Companions none, but longing to see One in like plight, I chanced upon three; The Masons two, wife and man, and one, A lad in his teens, made up A quartet with me to fill joy’s cup. With lusty minnows in pail to its fill, We took up rods and pail, reels and line, And, in our barque sailed forth to find Some less wary of the finny kind. In vain did we tempt the fickle fish; But at noon instead, with a dainty dish, Of eggs partly spilled and ham and things Fit for appetites toil and pleasure brings, We dined and ate to the brim. Two shy frogs sitting dreamily on logs Became prey to us as if native bogs. Fast flew the flushing day away; A trolley call, and one and all did say; Shine on old sol another day.

Courts and Laws