Beautiful Joe [69]
I wish the
government would take up this matter of making roads and settle it. If we had
good, smooth, country roads, such as they have in some parts of Europe, we would
be able to travel comfortably over them all through the year, and our draught
animals would last longer, for they would not have to expend so much energy in
drawing their loads."
CHAPTER XXII WHAT HAPPENED AT THE TEA TABLE
FROM my station under Miss Laura's chair, I could see that all the time Mr.
Harry was speaking, Mr. Maxwell, although he spoke rather as if he was laughing
at him, was yet glancing at him admiringly.
When Mr. Harry was silent, he exclaimed, "You are right, you are right, Gray.
With your smooth highways, and plenty of schools, and churches, and libraries,
and meetings for young people, you would make country life a paradise, and I
tell you what you would do, too; you would empty the slums of the cities. It is
the slowness and dullness of country life, and not their poverty alone, that
keep the poor in dirty lanes and tenement houses. They want stir and amusement,
too, poor souls, when their day's work is over. I believe they would come to the
country if it were made more pleasant for them."
"That is another question," said Mr. Harry, "a burning question in my mind the
labor and capital one. When I was in New York, Maxwell, I was in a hospital, and
saw a number of men who had been day laborers. Some of them were old and feeble,
and others were young men, broken down in the prime of life. Their limbs were
shrunken and drawn. They had been digging in the earth, and working on high
buildings, and confined in dingy basements, and had done all kinds of hard labor
for other men. They had given their lives and strength for others, and this was
the end of it to die poor and forsaken. I looked at them, and they reminded me
of the martyrs of old. Ground down, living from hand to mouth, separated from
their families in many cases they had had a bitter lot. They had never had a
chance to get away from their fate, and had to work till they dropped. I tell
you there is something wrong. We don't do enough for the people that slave and
toil for us. We should take better care of them, we should not herd them
together like cattle, and when we get rich, we should carry them along with us,
and give them a part of our gains, for without them we would be as poor as they
are."
"Good, Harry I'm with you there," said voice behind him, and looking around, we
saw Mr. Wood standing in the doorway, gazing down proudly at his step-son.
Mr. Harry smiled, and getting up, said, "Won't you have my chair, sir?"
"No, thank you; your mother wishes us to come to tea. There are muffins, and you
know they won't improve with keeping."
They all went to the dining-room, and I followed them. On the way, Mr. Wood
said, "Right on top of that talk of yours, Harry, I've got to tell you of
another person who is going to Boston to live."
"Who is it?" said Mr. Harry.
"Lazy Dan Wilson. I've been to see him this afternoon. You know his wife is
sick, and they're half starved. He says he is going to the city, for he hates to
chop wood and work, and he thinks maybe he'll get some light job there."
Mr. Harry looked grave, and Mr. Maxwell said, "He will starve, that's what he
will do."
"Precisely," said Mr. Wood, spreading out his hard, brown hands, as he sat down
at the table. "I don't know why it is, but the present generation has a
marvelous way of skimming around any kind of work with their hands. They'll work
their brains till they haven't got any more backbone than a caterpillar, but as
for manual labor, it's old-timey and out of fashion. I wonder how these farms
would ever have been carved out of the backwoods, if the old Puritans had sat
down on the rocks with their noses in a lot of books, and tried to figure out
just how little work they could do, and yet exist."
"Now, father," said Mrs. Wood, "you are trying to insinuate that the present
generation is lazy,
government would take up this matter of making roads and settle it. If we had
good, smooth, country roads, such as they have in some parts of Europe, we would
be able to travel comfortably over them all through the year, and our draught
animals would last longer, for they would not have to expend so much energy in
drawing their loads."
CHAPTER XXII WHAT HAPPENED AT THE TEA TABLE
FROM my station under Miss Laura's chair, I could see that all the time Mr.
Harry was speaking, Mr. Maxwell, although he spoke rather as if he was laughing
at him, was yet glancing at him admiringly.
When Mr. Harry was silent, he exclaimed, "You are right, you are right, Gray.
With your smooth highways, and plenty of schools, and churches, and libraries,
and meetings for young people, you would make country life a paradise, and I
tell you what you would do, too; you would empty the slums of the cities. It is
the slowness and dullness of country life, and not their poverty alone, that
keep the poor in dirty lanes and tenement houses. They want stir and amusement,
too, poor souls, when their day's work is over. I believe they would come to the
country if it were made more pleasant for them."
"That is another question," said Mr. Harry, "a burning question in my mind the
labor and capital one. When I was in New York, Maxwell, I was in a hospital, and
saw a number of men who had been day laborers. Some of them were old and feeble,
and others were young men, broken down in the prime of life. Their limbs were
shrunken and drawn. They had been digging in the earth, and working on high
buildings, and confined in dingy basements, and had done all kinds of hard labor
for other men. They had given their lives and strength for others, and this was
the end of it to die poor and forsaken. I looked at them, and they reminded me
of the martyrs of old. Ground down, living from hand to mouth, separated from
their families in many cases they had had a bitter lot. They had never had a
chance to get away from their fate, and had to work till they dropped. I tell
you there is something wrong. We don't do enough for the people that slave and
toil for us. We should take better care of them, we should not herd them
together like cattle, and when we get rich, we should carry them along with us,
and give them a part of our gains, for without them we would be as poor as they
are."
"Good, Harry I'm with you there," said voice behind him, and looking around, we
saw Mr. Wood standing in the doorway, gazing down proudly at his step-son.
Mr. Harry smiled, and getting up, said, "Won't you have my chair, sir?"
"No, thank you; your mother wishes us to come to tea. There are muffins, and you
know they won't improve with keeping."
They all went to the dining-room, and I followed them. On the way, Mr. Wood
said, "Right on top of that talk of yours, Harry, I've got to tell you of
another person who is going to Boston to live."
"Who is it?" said Mr. Harry.
"Lazy Dan Wilson. I've been to see him this afternoon. You know his wife is
sick, and they're half starved. He says he is going to the city, for he hates to
chop wood and work, and he thinks maybe he'll get some light job there."
Mr. Harry looked grave, and Mr. Maxwell said, "He will starve, that's what he
will do."
"Precisely," said Mr. Wood, spreading out his hard, brown hands, as he sat down
at the table. "I don't know why it is, but the present generation has a
marvelous way of skimming around any kind of work with their hands. They'll work
their brains till they haven't got any more backbone than a caterpillar, but as
for manual labor, it's old-timey and out of fashion. I wonder how these farms
would ever have been carved out of the backwoods, if the old Puritans had sat
down on the rocks with their noses in a lot of books, and tried to figure out
just how little work they could do, and yet exist."
"Now, father," said Mrs. Wood, "you are trying to insinuate that the present
generation is lazy,