Chapter XXXVII

"Once more the sound
Of human voices echoes in our ears;
And some commotion dire hath roused
The female ranks. Let's pause and learn
The drift of all this wordy war of tongues."

Back to the Mumbles, the Wimbles and Pimbles, and their clamorous voices again dinning in our ears. Will we ever be quit of them?

As cold weather approached, and the atmospheric thermometer descended to the freezing point, the philanthropic one mounted suddenly to blood heat.

Mrs. Pimble and Mrs. Lawson assumed their green legs and strode over Wimbledon with pompous, majestic tread. The Woman's Rights Reform shook off its sluggish torpor, and rose a mighty shape of masculine vigor, strength and power. As in atonement for past sloth and inertness, the reformists became more active in their several departments than ever before. Lectures were delivered, clubs formed, and committees appointed to visit the people from house to house, and stir them up by way of remembrance, to engage in the great benevolent enterprises of the day. At length an indignation meeting was announced to be held at the village church in Wimbledon. The house was thronged at an early hour, and great excitement pervaded the assembly, when the chairman and other officers appeared and ascended the platform, which had been erected for their convenience. It must be admitted that Dea. Allen, sitting in the glaring light of the uncurtained windows, contemplated with rather wrathful visage the ample green damask Bloomers, which adorned the lower limbs of the several officiating ladies; but he quite forgot his anger when the president sublimely arose, and, advancing to the front of the stand, said in a loud, commanding tone:

"We will now proceed with the business of this convention. If there is any person in the house that wishes to pray, she, or he, can do so. We hold to liberty and equal rights for all."

She then stood in silence several moments, gazing over the assembly with a self-possessed and confident air. But it appeared no person was moved with a spirit of prayer. So the lady president, after a preparatory hem, proceeded with the duties of her office. She, in a brief speech, explained the reason for holding this meeting, and the object it had in view.

"I have spoken in public before," said she; "often has my voice been raised against tyranny and oppression in all its forms; but never until to-day has it been my happy privilege to address so large an assembly of the inhabitants of my native village on the holy subjects of freedom and philanthropy. It inspires my soul with fresh courage to behold your eager faces, for they seem to say your minds are awakening to the demands of the down-trodden portions of your race. We hold this convention to arouse an interest in the cause of reform, which shall lead to strong and energetic action.

"It is too painfully true that Wimbledon is a sink of immorality, vice and pollution, where moral turpitude stalks with giant strides, and abominable barbarisms are practised under the glaring light of heaven. (Sensation.) The object of this meeting is to crush the oppressor's might, and raise his hapless victims to their proper position in society. I call upon the women of this assembly to rise from the depths of their degradation, rush boldly in the faces of their enslavers, and assert their rights; and, having asserted, maintain them, even at the point of the sword. (Sensation and murmurings.) A series of resolutions will now be presented for the consideration of the convention."

She turned to Mrs. Lawson, who sat majestically in a large arm-chair, her strong arms folded on her broad chest, and whispered a few words in her ear. While she was thus engaged, Mr. Salsify Mumbles rose, and said in a loud tone: "Gentlemen and ladies, I rise for the purpose"---- On hearing the sound of his voice, the lady president rushed to the edge of the platform, and glaring on the upright figure, which shook like an aspen beneath her fiery eyes, exclaimed, in thundering accents, "What are you standing there for, you booby-faced, blubber-chopped baboon in boots?"

"I wish to speak," stammered the terrified man. He could utter no more.

"_You_ speak!" said the lofty president, in a tone of the most supreme contempt,--"sit down."

The poor creature dropped as quick as though he had received a cannon ball in his heart.

Mrs. Pimble retired, and Mrs. Secretary Lawson arose, adjusted her green spectacles, and, taking a roll of papers from the table, advanced to the front of the stand. Elevating her brows, she said:

"I will now read several resolutions which have been handed in since the opening of the meeting.

"First, Resolved, That the enfranchised women of Wimbledon use their combined efforts for the liberation of their suffering sisterhood, who yet groan beneath the despotic cruelties of the oppressor man."

The secretary sat down. The president arose. "Are there any remarks to be made on this resolution?" she said.

None were forthcoming.

"Then I move its adoption."

"I second the motion," squealed a little voice from some remote corner.

The secretary came forward. "All in favor of this resolution will please say, ay."

A score of voices were heard.

"It is unanimously accepted," said she. "I will now proceed to the reading of the second.

"Resolved, That, as a means of humbling and destroying the tyranny which the monster man exercises over the larger portion of the women of Wimbledon, six of the usurpers be converted into lamp-posts, and placed at the corners of the principal streets, with tin lanterns fixed upon their heads, to light the cause of philanthropy in its midnight struggles." (Sensation, and several brawny hands scratching uneasily at the apex of their craniums.)

The secretary sat down; the lady president arose. "This is a very spirited as well as elegant resolve," said she, "and cannot fail of securing universal approbation. Mrs. Secretary, you will please read the remaining portion, and then all can be adopted by one joint action of the house."

"There are but two brief ones to follow," said the secretary, again coming forward.

"First, Resolved, That the tortuous channel of Wimbledon river be made straight, and the tyrant man be compelled to perform the labor with three-inch augers and pap-spoons.

"Secondly, Resolved, That, the steeple of this church, which looms so boldly impious toward the sky, be felled to the ground, and be converted into a liberty-pole, with the cast-off petticoats of the enfranchised women of Wimbledon flaunting proudly from its summit, as an emblem of the downfall of man's bigotry and despotism, and the triumphant elevation of woman to her proper sphere among the rulers of the earth."

Great sensation as the lady secretary pronounced the foregoing resolves, with strong impressiveness of tone and manner. As she retired, Dea. Allen rose. The lady president sprang from her seat.

"Sit down!" shrieked she, bringing her foot to the platform with a violence that caused it to tremble. But the deacon did not drop at this sharp command, as Mr. Mumbles had done.

"I thought you held to liberty and equal rights," said he, with an air of some boldness.

"I do,--and therefore I tell you to sit down."

"I will speak," said he, returning the defiant looks cast upon him by both president and secretary; "for religion and right demand it. If you dare profane with your sacrilegious hands the holy steeple of this house of God, avenging justice will fall with crushing weight upon your guilty heads."

Having delivered himself of this dread prediction, the deacon sat down.

In her loftiest style, Mrs. Pimble moved the adoption of the resolutions, vouchsafing no word of comment on the impertinent interruption. A brawling, discordant shout of "Ay--ay--ay," in every possible variety of tones, from a swarm of boisterous boys and ranting rowdies, was declared a unanimous approval, and in a storm of hisses and hurrahs the indignation meeting triumphantly adjourned.