“Perdition catch such an age!” shouted Dowley, in strong indignation. “An age of dogs, an age barren of reverence for superiors and respect for authority! The pillory—”
“Oh, wait, brother; say no good word for that institution. I think the pillory ought to be abolished.”
“A most strange idea. Why?”
“Well, I’ll tell you why. Is a man ever put in the pillory for a capital crime?”
“No.”
“Is it right to condemn a man to a slight punishment for a small offense and then kill him?”
There was no answer. I had scored my first point! For the first time, the smith wasn’t up and ready. The company noticed it. Good effect.
“You don’t answer, brother. You were about to glorify the pillory a while ago, and shed some pity on a future age that isn’t going to use it. I think the pillory ought to be abolished. What usually happens when a poor fellow is put in the pillory for some little offense that didn’t amount to anything in the world? The mob try to have some fun with him, don’t they?”
“Yes.”
“They begin by clodding him; and they laugh themselves to pieces to see him try to dodge one clod and get hit with another?”
“Yes.”
“Then they throw dead cats at him, don’t they?”
“Yes.”