Feminism -- Fiction; Political fiction, American; Socialism -- Fiction; Utopian fiction; Utopias -- Fiction; Women -- Fiction
"Nellie," said I, "you are a woman and my sister. I'm very sorry, but I
don't believe it."
"I thought you wouldn't," said she. Women always will have the last
word.
CHAPTER III
The blue shore line of one's own land always brings a thrill of the
heart; to me, buried exile as I had been, the heart-leap was choking.
Ours was a slow steamer, and we did not stop at Montauk where the mail
and the swiftest travelers landed, nor in Jamaica Harbor with the
immigrants.
As we swept along the sunny, level spaces of the South shore, Nellie
told me how Long Island was now the "Reception Room" of our country,
instead of poor, brutal little Ellis Island.
"The shores are still mostly summer places," she said. "One of the most
convincing of our early lines of advance was started on the South shore;
and there are plenty of Country Clubs, Home Parks and things like that;
but the bulk of the island toward the western end is an experiment
station in applied sociology."
I was watching the bright shore hungrily. With a glass I could see many
large buildings, not too closely set.
"I should think it would spoil the place for homes," I said.
Nellie had a way of listening to my remarks, kindly and pleasantly, but
as if I were somehow a long way off and she was trying to grasp what I
said.
"In a way it did--at first;" she explained presently, "but even then it
meant just as many homes for other people, and now it means so much
more!"
She hesitated a moment and then plunged in resolutely.
"You're in for a steady course of instructive remarks from now on.
Everybody will be explaining things and bragging about them. We haven't
outgrown some of the smaller vices, you see. As to this 'Immigration
Problem'--we woke up to this fact among others, that the 'reintegration
of peoples' as Ward called it, was a sociological process not possible
to stop, but quite possible to assist and to guide to great advantage.
And here in America we recognized our own special place--'the melting
pot,' you know?"
Yes, I remembered the phrase, I never liked it. Our family were pure
English stock, and rightly proud of their descent.
"I begin to see, my dear sister, that while receiving the torrent of
instructive remarks you foretell, the way of wisdom for me is
steadfastly to withhold my own opinions."
Nellie laughed appreciatively.
"You always had a long head, John. Well, whether you like it or not, our
people saw their place and power at last and rose to it. We refuse no
one. We have discovered as many ways of utilizing human waste as we used
to have for the waste products of coal tar."
"You don't mean to say idiots and criminals?" I protested.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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