Says I, “that is jest what Josiah says. He says, ‘I always have my own way.’”
“I admit, that whenever wimmen have been admitted in any public affairs, they have had a puryfyin’, and softnin’ and enoblin’ influence. But I deny that votin’ and havin’ a voice in public affairs is goin’ to better the condition of either wimmen or the nation.”
Says I, “Horace, the old White House needs puryfyin’ more than any horsepittle or meetin’ house in creation.” And says I, “Let wimmen lay to, and help clean house.” Says I, “let her try her hand for one year, and see what she can do.”
Says Horace, goin’ on placidly with his own thoughts, “It is not the change that would be wrought in public affairs I dread, so much as the change in the wimmen themselves, if they should mingle in the wild vortex of political life. I have two daughters, and rather than have them lose all thier delicacy, and enter political life and mount the rostrum, I would lay them in thier grave. I don’t believe,” says he, with great decision, “I don’t believe in wimmen leadin’ off into politics, and mountin’ the rostrum.”
I interupted him with a earnest tone; “you needn’t twit me of that, no more Horace. I don’t want to mount no rostrum. I had ruther give Josiah 20 curtain lectures than to give half of one to the public, there would be more solid satisfaction in it. But as far as indelicacy is concerned, it is no more immodest for a woman to lead off in politics than to lead off one of your indecent German waltzes with a man.” Says I, “you men think it hain’t indelicate for wimmen to go with you to balls, and to theatres, and into the wild vortex of the ocean a bathin’ with you--and to post offices, and to fires, and fairs, and horse races, and to church, and to heaven with you. But it is awful to go and drop a little slip of white paper into a box, once a year with you.”
Says Horace wavin’ off that idee, “Woman holds in her arms a more powerful ballot than she can in her hands. Let her mould her baby boy, so that in the future his mother will vote through him.”
Horace looked noble as he said this. His silver mounted spectacles shone with pure feelin’ and principle. “But,” says I, in a reasonable tone,
“How can wimmen mould children, if she haint got any to mould? I haint got any of my own, and lots of wimmen haint.” Says I, “such talk is unreasonable, how can she go to mouldin’, when she haint got the materials?”