“So ’tis,” says I, “But the difference is on the wrong side, for sposin’ it descends onto the head of a hereditary fool--or a hereditary mean woman. If a woman was voted for it would be for goodness, or some other good quality.”
Says Horace, wavin’ off that idee and pursuin’ after his own thoughts, “Man is sometimes mistaken in his honest beliefs, but Nature makes her laws unerringly. Nature intended the male of every species to take the preeminence. Nature designed man to be at the head of all public affairs. Nature never makes any mistakes.”
“Nature made queen bees Horace. Old Nature herself clapped the crown on to ’em. You never heard of king bees, did you? Industrious equinomical critters the bees are too. The public duties of that female don’t spile her, for where will you find house-work done up slicker than hern? Where will you find more stiddy, industrious, equinomical orderly doin’s through a whole nation than she has in hern? All her constituents up to work early in the mornin’, home at night too, jest as stiddy as the night comes. No foreign spys can come prowlin’ ’round her premises--speculators on other folks’es honey haint encouraged,--tobacco is obnoxious to ’em. Only one thing I don’t approve of, if food is skurce, if the females don’t get honey enough to last the whole hive, all winter, they slaughter the male bees in the fall to save honey. I don’t approve of it; but where will you find a great nater that haint got its peculiar excentricities? This is hern. She wants to dispose of the drones as they call the lazy husbands of the workin’ wimmen, and she thinks killin’ is the easiest way to dispose of ’em. I say plainly I don’t approve of it, it don’t seem exactly right to kill a husband to save winterin’ him, it would seem better to me to get divorces from ’em and set ’em up in business in a small way. But as I said, where is there a nater that haint got a weakness? _this_ is hern. But aside from this where will you find a better calculator than she is? No dashin’ female lobsteresses pullin’ the wool over the eyes of _her_ Senators. No old men bees gaddin’ ’round evenin’s when their confidin’ wives think they are a-bed dreamin’ about their lawful pardners--no wildcatishness, and smokin’ and drunkenness, and quarellin’ in _her_ Congress. You can’t impeach _her_ administration no how, for no clock work ever run smoother and honester. In my opinion there has a great many men set up in their high chairs that would have done well to pattern after this Executive female.”