THE EMANCIPATION OF WOMAN.
Family life in this model home went forward without a jar. Thorwald and
Zenith exhibited not the least sign of restraint before us, so that
what we saw from day to day we were sure was their natural and usual
behavior. They never worked at cross purposes, were never impatient
nor forgetful of each other, but without effort, apparently, to avoid
friction, they always did what was best pleasing to themselves, and at
the same time what was just suited to each other. This happy state of
affairs did not come from a division of labor, by which Zenith should
have nothing to do with outside matters and Thorwald nothing to say
about how things should go in the house, but it seemed to proceed from
their innate love of harmony, their perfect compatibility, and their
practical equality. The doctor and I saw there was something here far
different from anything existing in the conjugal relation on the earth,
but we could not decide just what it was. The doctor was strongly of the
opinion, however, that it arose in some way from the higher condition of
woman.
“You know,” he said, when we were alone, “the civilization of a people
on our planet is pretty correctly measured by the position occupied by
the women, so that here, in this exalted society, they must be held in
high esteem, if there is the same analogy between the two worlds in this
as in so many other things.”
I quite agreed with him, and took the first opportunity when we were all
together to introduce the subject.
“I should like to direct the conversation,” I said, addressing our host
and hostess, “to a topic of considerable interest, just now, to the
people of the earth. I am sure we can learn something of value in
regard to it from you, and I will introduce it, if you will pardon my
impertinence, with a personal question. Will you please tell me who is
the head of this household?”
“Zenith.”
“Thorwald.”
Two answers in one breath.
“It is very polite of you,” I said, “to disclaim the honor and each one
give it to the other, but, seriously, is there no head?”
“Why, no,” answered Thorwald; “we never think of such a thing, and yet
you must admit that things run smoothly without it.”
“I will then try again, if you please,” I said. “Which of you is the
bread-winner?”
To which Zenith replied:
“That question is hardly appropriate, for you know we do not work for
our daily bread. The bread would come anyway, whether we worked or
not; but then, as a matter of fact, every one does work at some useful
occupation, because we have found out by long experience that it is much
better for us than idleness. If you reply that you have not seen us work
while you have been here, I will say that our time is considered to be
well employed if we can be learning anything or imparting knowledge to
others, as this is supposed to add indirectly to the general well-being
of society. But perhaps what you want to know is which of us does the
more to benefit the world, and even this would be a difficult question
to answer. Thorwald creates, we will say, an elaborate design for a
noble cathedral, and as he watches its fair proportions rise under the
hands of skilled men, who take an equal pride and satisfaction in their
work, his heart is made glad by the thought that for many years after he
has left the body the structure will be used as a place for teaching the
way of life, with its graceful spires pointing men to heaven. While I,
perhaps--”
“Let me tell that part,” interrupted Thorwald. “While Zenith, with just
as strong a feeling of responsibility for a share of the world’s work,
composes a beautiful song and writes the music for it, and then sings it
before a vast audience, while the phonograph catches it and holds it for
future generations. Is she not doing as much as I am toward earning the
bread for the family?”
“It certainly cannot be denied,” I answered. “But what I want to find
out is, to use a homely expression common with us, which of you two
holds the reins in this home?”
“Well,” replied Thorwald, laughing, “that is a figure of speech which is
not employed here, for we use no reins of any kind; but I know what you
mean, and I will answer you by saying that we each hold one rein, and in
that way drive as steadily as if we were one person.”
“But when disputes arise, which one gives in?”
“Disputes never arise, and if they did we would both ‘give in,’ whatever
that expression means.”
“If not your wills, do not your wishes or inclinations sometimes oppose
each other?”
“Why, no,” Thorwald answered quickly. “It is impossible, and for this
reason: each one of us is so intent on trying to please the other that
we are saved from all temptation to selfishness, which is the root and
source of all differences.”
While I was considering what next to ask, the doctor broke in with:
“I think my companion will be obliged to discontinue his questions
and accept the truth that here we have found an ideal household, where
husband and wife are in reality equal. Let me ask if the women, all over
this happy world, are treated with as much consideration as in the case
before us.”
“Why, what a funny question,” exclaimed Zenith, before Thorwald could
speak. “Why don’t you ask if, all over this happy world, we treat our
men with consideration and respect? But, to save you the trouble of
asking, I will say that, all over this happy world, a man is held in
as high esteem and is as tenderly cared for as a woman, every bit. Your
words, Doctor, remind me that I have several times wanted to speak to
you about a certain manner which you and your friend have exhibited
toward me. No one could accuse you of disrespect to Thorwald; indeed, I
think your carriage toward him is excellent, but with me you seem to be
a little strained, and your manner is a trifle effusive. Pardon me
for the criticism. I know your action is well meant, although it is
something I am not accustomed to.”
“I suppose,” said the doctor, “you refer to our feeble and, it appears,
stupid efforts to be polite.”
“Oh, then I ought to feel complimented instead of finding fault with
you. But why should you wish to be more respectful to me than to
Thorwald? He is more worthy your regard than I am, and has as many
rights in this house as I have, exactly.”
“We have been taught to pay an extra deference to women,” answered the
doctor.
“Why?” asked Zenith. “Because they are superior beings?”
“Hardly that, I think.”
“Then it must be because they are considered inferior, and you seek to
hide your real feeling, which is one of commiseration, by a false show
of politeness.”
“That sounds harsh,” said the doctor, “and I believe you are not
correct.”
“Oh, I do not mean to criticise you personally,” Zenith made haste
to say, “but the system. It seems to me that you, Doctor, try to be
sincere; and assuming that to be so, let me ask you why you are
more ceremonious in your manner to your neighbor’s wife than to your
neighbor’s husband.”
“Well, let me see. Why do I instinctively make a special show of respect
in meeting a woman? I never analyzed my feeling, but I will try to do
so for you. I think one principal reason is because it is so very
conventional that she would expect it, and think me either piqued or
ill-bred if I omitted it. Then, deeper than that is a desire to tell her
that I recognize in her and admire those graces and amenities which
are supposed to be peculiar to her sex. And I suppose there is, also,
a little selfishness in it, as if I were asking her to take note that I
knew what were the usages of good society.”
“But would you not also tell her in effect by your flattery, if you will
excuse the word, that she and the rest of her sex are by birth not quite
equal to men, and you are trying to make up the difference all you can
by politeness?”
“I am not conscious of such a feeling, I am sure,” answered the doctor.
“It seems to me that woman is entitled to some extra attention because
she is physically weaker than man.”
“True,” said Zenith; “that is a good reason why she should be
protected.”
“And should we not maintain and practice toward her the spirit of true
courtesy?”
“Most certainly. But women should also exercise the same spirit toward
men. The duty is reciprocal. The days of knight-errantry, when men were
chivalrous and women were merely beautiful, should not last forever;
women, too, should learn to be chivalrous. Do not imagine I would have
you less considerate or thoughtful of anyone, or less demonstrative in
your feelings, if you will only remember that men and women are equal,
have equal duties and privileges, and should have similar treatment.
Great respect should go where it is deserved, whether to man or woman.
If I were an inhabitant of the earth and a woman, I should try to have
some such thought as this: one man of character knows another good man
is his equal; therefore as they treat each other so I would have them
treat me, for then I would know that they held me, also, as an equal,
and not as a doll, pretty and well dressed perhaps, but brainless, nor
as a child who must not be told things too deep for its mind.”
“I begin to understand you,” said the doctor. “You first get me to admit
that women are not a superior order of beings, and then you argue that,
as we do not treat them exactly as we do each other, we cannot consider
them our equals, and therefore nothing remains but that we must look
upon them as inferior to us.”
Zenith gave a pleasant little pink laugh and answered:
“I see you have found me out. But you do not deny that my logic is
correct.”
“I have tried to tell you several times,” returned the doctor, with a
smile, “that, as for me, I do not feel guilty of harboring the least
degrading sentiment toward women. But I cannot answer for the opinions
of the world at large. This subject promises to be more interesting than
we anticipated. I see you know a great deal about it. Have women always
been accorded an equality with men, or is it a part of your mature
development?”
“Now, Doctor, just see how prejudiced you are. You would never think of
asking if the men of Mars had always been the equal of women. It would
be quite as natural with us to ask it in one way as the other.”
“I will try again, then, by asking if the two sexes have always been so
happily equal as at this time.”
“I will give you a direct answer to that question. They have not. But
I think I have talked enough for once. Thorwald will tell you all about
our tortuous course in reaching our present condition, if you wish.”
“Not at all,” said Thorwald. “I would like to tell it, but this is a
topic that Zenith has taken a special interest in, and she shall have
the pleasure of talking to you about it.”
“Now then!” I said to myself, “here is a difference right away. Zenith
says Thorwald must tell it; Thorwald would like to do so, but insists on
sacrificing himself for Zenith’s sake. Now, what if Zenith should prefer
the pleasure of self-denial, and refuse to let Thorwald immolate his
desire so readily? What could prevent war in this happy family? Would a
quarrel be any less a quarrel because its cause was unselfishness rather
than selfishness?”
But if I, with a worldly heart, was expecting a lapse from these
excellent people, I was disappointed, for Zenith, with a look of wifely
affection toward Thorwald, said pleasantly:
“Very well, since Thorwald is so kind, I will do my best, if you are
sure you will not tire of hearing me talk.”
The doctor and I expressed our pleasure with the arrangement, and Zenith
began:
“I wish to say at the start that, whatever may have been your experience
on this question, it is hardly possible that your mistakes have equaled
ours, for the folly and wickedness of our race have been stupendous and
of long continuance.”
“If you will excuse the interruption,” I said, “I will suggest that we
can sympathize with you, as our history shows the greatest injustice to
women.”
“Your remark proves to me that you cannot fully sympathize with us. I
did not infer, as you seem to do, that the women of Mars had been the
only victims of injustice.
“But without further delay let me begin, only do not hesitate to break
in upon my story with any inquiries that suggest themselves to you.
“We read that God created man, male and female; that is, there came
forth from the hand of the Maker a male man and a female man, and all
through that early age of gold they loved each other, and served their
God with purity of heart and without a selfish thought. God was their
father, they were his children, with equal privileges, equal affection,
and equal ability to do faithful service. No evil spirit was near
to whisper in the ear of either a suggestion of personal leadership.
Ambition, that ambition which would exalt self at the expense of
another, was not yet born, and neither of these happy beings could
conceive it possible to achieve a higher happiness by lording it over
the other.
“So they lived till sin came; and among the woes which sin brought in
its train there were few more dreadful than the decree that the man
should rule over the woman and that her desire should be unto her
husband. For thousands of years our race struggled against that giant
evil. During a long period the condition of woman was so low that we
know nothing of her, and when she reappears it is only as the servant
of man. Made in the image of God as the companion of man and an equal
sharer in all his rights and duties, she is now his chattel, a piece of
property, held for his selfish use or disposed of for his advantage.
“Even in these dark days individuals of our sex rose out of the general
degradation and showed that they were fitted by nature for a higher
position. But sin and ignorance kept the mass of them under the heel of
their masters. As civilization advanced there came some mitigation of
their lot, and where pure religion gained a foothold women began to
receive recognition; but their state was deplorable indeed among all
those peoples whose religion was only gross superstition and idolatry.
“In the process of time Christ came and brought the light of heaven
to this dark world, and from that hour woman can well say that her day
began to dawn. One of the sweetest strains in her song of salvation is
that evoked by the memory of her resurrection from misery and abasement
to a position of honor among the children of men. The change, however,
was very gradual, for Christianity itself was slow in gaining ground;
but the gospel was ever the friend of woman, as of all the oppressed,
lifting her up where she could influence the world and begin to fulfill
her destiny. As fast as the nations shook off barbarism and became
in any degree enlightened, the unnatural burdens were lifted from
the shoulders of woman, although for a long time she was compelled to
perform more than her share of severe toil even among people who thought
themselves civilized.
“Then came a time when, in nations of some refinement, there was such
a reaction against the injustice and degradation to which woman had so
long been subjected that she suddenly became an object of sentimental
regard among courtly men. Her noble qualities were exaggerated far
beyond their merit, and she was set on a pedestal, to receive homage and
all the outward forms of respect from those whom she so recently served
as a menial. Being so poorly fitted by her long training in serfdom
for such exaltation, what wonder is it that her head was turned by the
flattery, and that her recovery was slow and difficult? The insincere
and superfluous manners of that period remained for ages a vexation to
our growing intelligence and a hindrance to our true progress; and,
from what you have said, I am inclined to think you of the earth are now
going through some such experience as ours.
“After that epoch had been passed, woman never fell back to her former
condition, although she did not yet for a long time reach a position
that was at all enviable, except as compared with the dark days of her
bondage. But she was now where she could take advantage of the general
uplifting of the race, and though kept in the background by man as much
as was possible, she was constantly growing and learning, preparing
herself for a future of which she would then dare not even to dream.
“And now I am coming, in this rapid sketch, to that period of activity
and change which Thorwald has described to you in its industrial
features. In portraying some of the evils of those days, arising from
our almost ineradicable selfishness, he was obliged to make his picture
a somber one, a necessity under which, happily, I am not placed. Looking
at the times, not as compared with the present era but with what had
gone before, which was the only comparison the people of that day could
make, there was much room for encouragement. It was, in truth, a bright
day, whose beauty, however, consisted not so much in the realization
of happiness as in the promise of still brighter days to come. Material
prosperity abounded, education flourished, and religion was beginning
to creep down from men’s heads into their hearts. Wrongs were righted,
justice enthroned, and philanthropy sprang into being. Even while there
was so much evil, and while some men seemed to be trying all they
could to keep back the breaking dawn, the day was surely coming. The
brotherhood of man, long preached as a settled principle, now became
a living force, showing itself in a multitude of devices for relieving
distress, lessening pain, alleviating poverty, and for the general
betterment of society.
“Surrounded by such a universal spirit of improvement, woman felt the
impulse of new life, and heard the call to a higher service to humanity
than she had ever yet rendered. As men’s minds broadened and their
hearts grew more tender, and as their sympathies reached out to the weak
and down-trodden of every class, it was not possible that their ancient
prejudice against woman could much longer survive. Her rise from this
time forward was rapid. Let us examine the position which, under the
influence of this kindly feeling, she soon came to occupy. Protected by
many special laws, guarded by all the legitimate forces of society, but
exempt from military and police service, honored for her high and noble
qualities, respected by all whose regard was of value, and loved with a
true affection which scorned the question of individual rights, her lot
seemed indeed a happy one. Shielded from the severe struggles of life,
freed from the cares of business, released in a great measure from
uncongenial work and from the dangers attending exacting labor, with the
disagreeable things in life kept from her as much as possible, always
seeing the best of every man’s character and manners, and, more than
all, being supreme in her natural domain, the home, with none to dispute
her right, what more could she ask?”
“What, indeed?” I remarked, as Zenith paused a moment after her
question. “The picture you have drawn looks so bright, beside your
description of her former lot, that I have no doubt she was now
contented and happy.”
“So you think that shelter and protection and the love of husband and
children and the serenity of home ought to be enough to satisfy one
who was created with a spirit as restless, a brain as active, an
individuality as marked, and hands as clever as those of man?”
As Zenith threw this question at me and waited for me to answer, I
realized that I had been caught by her former inquiry, and found not
that Zenith was about to take advanced ground on the subject before
us. Wishing I had not drawn her attention so squarely to my personal
opinions, and yet feeling obliged to stand up for my position, I said:
“It seems to me that woman’s surest path to honor and happiness is that
marked out for her by nature, a path which she adorns because so well
fitted for it, and that to forsake the home and compete with man for
the thousand places in the work of the world would be to cast aside the
charm of her womanliness and all that makes her what she is, a solace
and comfort to all the world. If she seeks for a pleasurable life, where
can she find such keen and lasting pleasure as among the duties of home,
and if she is ambitious to lift the world to a higher plane, where is
it possible for her to have so much influence as in the nurture of the
young?”
“So spoke the men of our race in the era I am describing to you,”
replied Zenith. “It seems as if you must have been reading some of our
old writers, so closely do you follow the ideas then prevalent. I have
read and reread those histories until I am quite familiar with them,
and you shall hear how such views as you have expressed soon became very
old-fashioned.”
“I am sure your account will closely concern us,” I said, “for the age
of which you are now speaking must be that corresponding to our own
times on the earth. The woman question is attracting special attention,
and seems bound to remain with us indefinitely; but I am frank to say I
think our women are making a mistake in trying to elbow their way into
man’s domain, whatever may have been the result of the movement in this
favored world.”
“I suppose you would have them stay at home where they belong,”
said Zenith, with a good-natured laugh, which sounded as if she were
confident enough of her ability to meet any possible argument.
“Yes,” I replied, “out of pure kindness to them. It is an astonishing
thing to me that they can think of gaining anything by giving up all
that is distinctive in their nature and becoming more like us. I am not
so much in love with my own sex as to enjoy seeing our sisters and our
wives and daughters trying to make themselves over into men.”
I now felt that I had said enough, and so expressed myself to Zenith,
but she replied pleasantly that she was glad I had told my thoughts, as
it gave her an opportunity to say some things that might not otherwise
have been called for.
“You seem to think,” she continued, “that woman’s supreme happiness is
to be gained by self-effacement. I suppose her custom is with you, as it
formerly was here, to renounce her own name at the marriage altar.”
“It is,” I replied.
“And from that hour,” resumed Zenith, “she makes every effort to bury
herself, to deny her personality, and to lay aside whatever individual
desires and aspirations she may have had; that is, if she is what
you would call a true woman. If she objects to this renunciation and
attempts to make an independent career suited to her talents, then she
is strong-minded and is trying to unsex herself. With the world full of
work waiting for her nimble fingers and loving heart, she is compelled
to suppress all secret hope of doing something to impress her own
character on that world, because her only duty is in the home. A man is
also called upon to be a good husband and father, but that by no means
comprises all he is expected to be and do. To him it is given to strike
out into untrodden fields, and, without reproach, to make a name for
himself if possible.
“You say work is hard and disagreeable, but is it all dull and
uninteresting? Are there not sweet moments of hope in every work, and
then the joy of achievement when it is over? Do not men find this joy
and the rewards of labor amply sufficient? The more difficult the
task, the greater the satisfaction when it is accomplished. Business is
perplexing and uncertain, you say, but what of the triumphs of success?
Would any man refuse to undertake an enterprise because success was not
certain? The very uncertainty adds zest to the business, and makes
hope possible. From all this striving and achieving, and from all the
satisfying rewards which come with success, woman is debarred. Then
there are the professions and the wide range of occupations which
require education and special training. What a variety for man to choose
from, while you would confine woman to one; and a great many women, not
being born good cooks or good housekeepers, cannot fill that one with
any credit to themselves. So what can life be to them compared with
what it ought to be? Think of the opportunities they might have in these
higher occupations of competing for the prizes of life--honor, fame,
position, riches, and, above all, the consciousness of doing some good
in the world. Oh, it is impossible for you to realize anything of the
longing in woman’s heart to be someone, to do something, and so to be
relieved from the everlasting monotony of the treadmill, which, if men
were obliged to submit to it, would make the majority of them insane.
“You see I have put myself in the place of one of my sex in that olden
time, and have spoken as she felt when to express her feelings would
have been almost a shame to her.
“What I desire to show you is that woman had not then received all that
was due her, although men seemed to think she was fully emancipated. But
events moved rapidly in that stirring age, and this great question could
not be kept in the background in a day when every abuse and injustice
was allowed a hearing and reform was in the very air. Even the dumb
beasts had such powerful advocates that cruelty and unkindness
were greatly checked. What wonder then, as men’s sensibilities and
consciences became quickened, that they should begin to see, what they
could not see before, that a fuller liberty ought to be accorded to
woman? But this vision came not without help. Sometimes in our history
we have known of a race being deprived of their freedom, and so benumbed
by their condition that they desired nothing better, and so perforce
waited for a movement for their enfranchisement to come from without. It
was not so in this case. Women themselves cried out against their
lot. They were not so enraptured with the calm and quiet of their
conventional life but that they felt the stirrings of ambition for
something different, and they did not fear to raise their voice for more
liberty.”
“Liberty!” I echoed. “Were they really deprived of liberty?”
“Yes, liberty to choose a calling that would suit their individual
tastes and satisfy their growing ambition.”
“Excuse me,” I again interrupted, “but were not these women who
exhibited so much restlessness unattached--that is, without many family
ties? And were not the great majority so contented in the shelter of
home and so engrossed in the care of husband and children that they were
entire strangers to any such disturbing fancies, or ambitions as you
call them? And, again, did not this large class of happy and busy wives
and mothers resent the action of those self-appointed liberators who
were fighting for an image of straw and crying themselves hoarse over
imaginary wrongs?”
Zenith smiled again in that peculiar manner which told me, in the
pleasantest possible way, that she was perfectly sure I was on the
losing side, and with the smile she resumed:
“Your questions are so familiar to one who has studied this subject that
they seem like another plagiarism, as it were, from our histories, but I
will give you fair answers.
“It is true that the early protests came from the solitary women,
unfortunately not a small class at that day, who, being without legal
protectors, felt the inequalities of the law and the unjust restraints
put upon their sex by society, but the truths they spoke came with added
force because of their intimate acquaintance with their needs.
“You are wrong in your supposition that the mass of women were so
shallow in mind as to know nothing of those longings for a fuller, more
satisfying life. Deep in their nature, planted by the Creator himself,
was the same lofty spirit with which man was endowed, and it could not
be smothered by marriage. Taking a husband should not, and in reality
does not now, change one’s ambition or aim in life any more than taking
a wife does, but in those benighted days men, after marriage, could
go forward with their plans just as if nothing had happened, while
the women were supposed to forget their high hopes and aspirations and
confine themselves entirely to the trivial round of domestic duties.
The men, however, were much mistaken if they thought their wives were
forgetting. They but bided their time.
“In your last question you are not altogether wrong, for there were a
few unthinking ones who joined with some of the men in ridiculing the
whole movement as unnecessary and foolish. But this class had not much
influence, and, in spite of such opposition as they offered, the reform
made steady progress.
“As a help to obtain what she was striving for, woman asked for the
right of suffrage, and thereupon had to undergo a fusillade of cheap
criticism from those who would not understand her, and who supposed she
wanted this privilege as an end and not as a means. Men were slow to
grant the right to vote, but after much discussion suffrage began to be
allowed in matters where the women were particularly interested. With
the first concession, however, men realized that the force of all their
arguments was broken, and before many years the full right was bestowed.
“And now, Thorwald, I am sure our good friends did not come so far from
home to hear me talk all the time. The rest of the subject concerns
your sex as much as mine, and you had better take up the story at this
point.”
“Oh, no,” replied Thorwald, “I shall not take the narrative away from
you now, you may be sure, for what is left is just the part you can best
relate. I shall enjoy it as much as our friends from the earth. But I
propose that we hear the rest this afternoon, and that, in the meantime,
we go out for a drive.”
“A drive,” I asked, “what do you drive?”
“You shall see,” Thorwald answered, as he stepped to the telephone. I
thought I should hear his message, but found the instrument had been
further improved. In the use of the telephone as I had known it,
everybody in the house was much surer of hearing what was said than the
person at the other end of the line was, but here the one addressed was
the only one to get a word of the communication.
Thorwald talked to us a short time about other matters, and then asked
us all to prepare to go out. When we reached the door the doctor and I
were surprised to see a beautiful and commodious carriage, to which were
attached, with the lightest possible harness, four of the handsomest
horses we had ever seen. There were, besides, two fine saddle-horses for
the children, who were to accompany us.
Thorwald drove, but without rein or whip, the horses being guided
perfectly and easily merely by word of mouth. The animals were also so
large and strong that they seemed to enjoy the sport as much as we did.
“Do you mean to say,” I inquired, “that such a turnout as this can be
had for the asking?”
“Certainly. I just said through the telephone that I would like a
carriage for four persons, and two saddle-horses. The man who has the
care of the horses is a friend of mine who likes the work better than
anything else.”
“The horses appear to be well broken,” the doctor remarked.
“Broken,” said Zenith, “what do you mean by that, Doctor?”
“Why, it is an expression by which we mean that the high spirit with
which they were born has been subdued, making it easy to train them to
obedience.”
“They must be wild, then,” spoke Zenith again, “and you are obliged to
tame them. The difference here is that the horses are born tame and do
not need breaking, and though they have plenty of spirit, as you see,
they are so intelligent and have such solidity of character that there
is never any danger that they will become unmanageable.”
“That must be so,” said I, “or you could not be sure of being free from
accidents. But tell us, Thorwald, how it happens that we have not seen
others enjoying this delightful mode of traveling.”
“It is not very singular that you have not seen any horses before,” said
Thorwald. “They have been entirely superseded in all kinds of business,
you remember, by mechanical power, and even for pleasure-riding most
people are too tender of heart to enjoy using them. They fear the horses
will be fatigued, and they do not like to see them straining themselves
in dragging a heavy load, when there is a force that has no feeling
ready to do it a great deal better.
“But you can see these horses are not working very hard, and it is a
good thing for us sometimes to give up a little sentiment. There is some
danger that our sympathies may carry us too far. For instance, it is
probably a real kindness to these horses to give them a little work, if
we are only careful not to render their service galling to them; and yet
there are many people who never drive, on account of the feeling they
have for the beasts.”
“It would be a good thing if we had more of that sentiment on the
earth,” said the doctor.
[Illustration: “THE HORSES ARE BORN TAME”]