“Father, can I have the old mare to go to Jonesville to-night?” “What do you want to go to Jonesville for?” said his father, “you come from there last night.” “There is goin’ to be a lecture on wimmin’s rights; can I have her, father?” “I s’pose so,” says Josiah, kinder short, and after Thomas J. went out, Josiah went on-- “Wimmin’s rights, wimmin’s rights, I wonder how many more fools are goin’ a caperin’ round the country preachin’ ’em up--I am sick of wimmin’s rights, I don’t believe in ’em.” This riled up the old Smith blood, and says I to him with a glance that went clear through to the back side of his head-- “I know you don’t, Josiah Allen--I can tell a man that is for wimmin’s rights as fur as I can see ’em. There is a free, easy swing to thier walk--a noble look to thier faces--thier big hearts and soles love liberty and justice, and bein’ free themselves they want everybody else to be free. These men haint jealous of a woman’s influence--haint afraid that she won’t pay him proper respect if she haint obleeged to--and they needn’t be afraid, for these are the very men that wimmin look up to, and worship,--and always will. A good, noble, true man is the best job old natur ever turned off her hands, or ever will--a man, that would wipe off a baby’s tears as soft as a woman could, or ‘die with his face to the foe.’ “They are most always big, noble-sized men, too,” says I, with another look at Josiah that pierced him like a arrow; (Josiah don’t weigh quite one hundred by the steelyards.) “I don’t know as I am to blame, Samantha, for not bein’ a very hefty man.” “You can let your sole grow, Josiah Allen, by thinkin’ big, noble-sized thoughts, and I believe if you did, you would weigh more by the steelyards.” “Wall, I don’t care, Samantha, I stick to it, that I am sick of wimmin’s rights; if wimmin would take care of the rights they have got now, they would do better than they do do.” Now I love to see folks use reason if they have got any--and I won’t stand no importations cast on to my sect--and so I says to him in a tone of cold and almost freezin’ dignity-- “What do you mean, Josiah?” “I mean that women hain’t no business a votin’; they had better let the laws alone, and tend to thier house-work. The law loves wimmin and protects ’em.” “If the law loves wimmin so well, why don’t he give her as much wages as men get for doin’ the same work? Why don’t he give her half as much, Josiah Allen?” Josiah waved off my question, seemin’ly not noticin’ of it--and continued with the doggy obstinacy of his sect-- “Wimmin haint no business with the laws of the country.”