212 My Neighbor's Wood-Shed 



with which they toil. ' Bat they can talk," 

 remarks some one. " So can horses," I 

 reply. Probably I have said too much. 

 This is dangerous ground whereon to tread, 

 for I never saw a fool without a fist and with 

 wit enough to use it, and yet had that winter 

 wren perched upon the knee of this man he 

 would have brushed it off as he would a wasp 

 from his face and given the incident no fur- 

 ther thought ; perhaps not seen the differ- 

 ence between bird and insedl. I am not 

 exaggerating. There are scores of just such 

 men as this one scattered over the country. 

 I asked one once to kill for me two pairs of 

 squabs. He bit their heads off. They are 

 men that rouse to real enthusiasm when there 

 is butchering to be done, and when unusual 

 circumstances, as a funeral, force them to a 

 church or formal gathering, sleep throughout 

 the proceedings. They are carted, like pro- 

 duce, to market, to the polling-place, and 

 given slips of paper to place in a box, and 

 are then carted back again, excellent citizens 

 and bright examples of the damnable heresy 

 of universal suffrage. These men are, in 

 fa&, savages with the savage's more danger- 

 ous instinfts held in check. Such are never 



