 | Artemus Ward, his book ; with many comic
illustrations |  |
WOMAN'S RIGHTS.
I pitcht my tent in a small town in Injianny one
day last seeson, & while I was standin at the dore
takin money, a deppytashun of ladies came up &
sed they wos members of the Bunkumville Female
Moral Reformin & Wimin's Rite's Associashun, and
thay axed me if they cood go in without payin.
“Not exactly,” sez I, “but you can pay without
goin in.”
“Dew you know who we air?” said one of the
wimin—a tall and feroshus lookin critter, with a
blew kotton umbreller under her arm—“do you
know who we air Sir?”
“My impreshun is,” sed I, “from a kersery view,
that you air females.”
“We air, Sur,” said the feroshus woman—
“We belong to a Society whitch beleeves wimin has
speer—whitch beleeves she is indowed with as
much intelleck as man is—whitch beleeves she is
trampled on and aboozed—& who will resist henso4th
& forever the incroachments of proud & domineering
men.”
Durin her discourse, the exsentric female grabed
me by the coat-kollor & was swinging her umbreller
wildly over my hed.
“I hope, marm, sez I, starting back, “that your
intensions is honorable? I'm a lone man hear in a
strange place. Besides, Ive a wife to hum.”
“Yes,” cried the female, “& she's a slave!
Doth she never dream of freedom—doth she never
think of throwin of the yoke of tyrrinny & thinkin
& votin for herself?—Doth she never think of
these here things?”
“Not bein a natral born fool,” sed I, by this
time a little riled, “I kin safely say that she dothunt.”
“O whot—whot!” screamed the female, swingin
her umbreller in the air. O, what is the price
that woman pays for her expeeriunce!”
“I don't know,” sez I; “the price to my show
is 15 cents pur individooal.”
“& can't our Sosiety go in free?” asked the female.
“Not if I know it,” sed I.
“Crooil, crooil man!” she cried, & bust into
teers.
“Won't you let my darter in?” sed anuther of
the exsentric wimin, taken me afeckshunitely by the
hand. “O, please let my darter in —shee's a sweet
gushin child of natur.”
“Let her gush!” roared I, as mad as I cood
stick at their tarnal nonsense; “let her gush!”
Where upon they all sprung back with the simultanious
observashun that I was a Beest.
“My female friends,” sed I, “be4 you leeve, Ive
a few remarks to remark; wa them well. The female
woman is one of the greatest institooshuns of
which this land can boste. It's onpossible to get
along without her. Had there bin no female wimin
in the world, I should scarcely be here with my unparaleld
show on this very occashun. She is good
O, woman, woman!” I cried, my feelins worked
up to a hi poetick pitch, “you air a angle when you
behave yourself; but when you take off your proper
appairel & (mettyforically speaken)—get into
pantyloons—when you desert your firesides, & with
your heds full of wimin's rites noshuns go round
like roarin lyons, seekin whom you may devour
someboddy—in short, when you undertake to play
the man, you play the devil and air an emfatic noosance.
My female friends,” I continnered, as they
were indignantly departin, “wa well what A. Ward
has sed!”
| Artemus Ward, his book ; with many comic
illustrations | |