She sees the steep
hills they have to climb, carryin' their crosses, she sees 'em go down into
the mire, dragged there by the love that should lift 'em up. She would not
be the woman you love if she could restrain her hand from liftin' up the
fallen, wipin' tears from weepin' eyes, speakin' brave words for them that
can't speak for themselves. The very strength of her affection that would
hold you up if you were in trouble or disgrace yearns to help all sorrowin'
hearts.
"Down in your heart you can't help admirin' her for this, we can't help
respectin' the one that advocates the right, the true, even if they are our
conquerors. Wimmen hain't angels; now to be candid, you know they hain't.
They hain't any better than men. Men are considerable likely; and it seems
curious to me that they should act so in this one thing. For men ort to be
more honest and open than wimmen. They hain't had to cajole and wheedle and
use little trickeries and deceits and indirect ways as wimmen have. Why,
cramp a tree limb and see if it will grow as straight and vigorous as it
would in full freedom and sunshine.
"Men ort to be nobler than women, sincerer, braver. And they ort to be
ashamed of this one trick of theirn, for they know they hain't honest in
it, they hain't generous. Give wimmen two or three generations of moral and
legal freedom and see if men will laugh at 'em for their little deceits and
affectations.
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