XIX
A Lesson in Eugenics
To Editor N. Y. Newsprint, who will please be more careful about choosing his ancestors in the future,
Dear Sir:—Last Wedsday night I got feeling of lonesome matrimony, so I put on Tuxedo slippers and necktie resembling Vogue. I was not sure which lady I intended for marry, but I go see Miss Tessie Matsuki because I could get there without carfare. This Matsuki lady live over store of her father, Hon. J. W. Matsuki, Japanese hay & grain. She got considerable Vassar intelligence and would make nice wife for librarian.
I found her by lamplight wearing goldly spectacles while reading enlarged volume entitle “Eugenic.”
She felt my biceps while shaking hands & seem to examine my hair for criminal traits. I ask her would she like go see emotion picture show with my accompaniment. She say no. She prefer set stationary and talk about Future Race. I explan that I did not keep up pretty well with sporty events, but my Cousin Nogi were entirely educated about racing & baseball. She give high-up laugh of culture.
“Future Race are not sporty event,” she define. “It are Eugenic.”
“I got no time to think foreign languages,” I say so while admiring her sweethearted expression with Garden of Allah sensation. “I come here to ask some big importance. Would it be convenient to get married?”
“It would be no trouble however,” she report for smiling.
“O then we shall!” I holla while attempting to hold her handclasp, but she snatch it to herself.
“If suitable I shall include you on waiting list,” she snuggest.
“I present you my heart,” I renig for poetry.
“Condition of lung are more important,” she renounce. “Let me hear your deep breathing.” I do so. She listen. “Ah!! I suspected what I supposed! Your left pulmonia has slight anachronism. How dare you love me?”
“Permit me to tell about myself!” I yall like Romeo.
“Tell me about your grandfather, instead,” she abrupt.
“I do not ask you marry my grandfather.” This from me while enjoying slight agonies.
“In Eugenic,” she report, “we are expected to marry entire family.”
“This Eugene must come from Utah,” I snib. “My grandfather would not permit such illegality. He were married once, which were too many. Also he are dead. It are immoral to marry dead folks.”
“What he die from?” she romp forth.
“Asthma of knees,” I pronounce.
“So ha! Then you got diseases in family!”
“You expect my ancestors to die from being too healthy?” I ask to know. “Perhapsly Hon. Eugene who wrote that book will teach us how to do so.”
“He expects to arrange everything,” she compose proudishly. “His speciality will be marriage. Youngly persons will be selected carefully like Luther Burbank choose best potatoes for crop.”
“Will this Hon. Eugene make some new marriage ceremony?” I otter.
“That have been arrange also,” she tell. “When 2 Eugeniuses wish get married following program will be enjoyed:
“Joy-bells will be jungled from tip-top of gymnasium where members of Board of Health will act as Ushers, admitting relatives after examining their tonsils. Talented vaudeville performers will play ‘Weddlesohn’s Mending March’ on Indian clubs while Bride & Bridebroom, wearing Annit Kellerman bathing suits to show no deception had been concealed, will walk up aisle hand-in-hand with parents wearing rubber gloves. Bride must not blush, because that are sign of weak heart and Bridebroom must not seem nervus, because that indicate tendency to allipeptic fits. After dumb-bell drill Rev. Preacher will step uply.”
“What Rev. Preacher will do this ceremony?” I inquest.
“Not sure,” she negotiate. “Perhaps Rev. Billy Sunday might do, because of muscular religion.”
“What shall this marriage service say?” is next question for me.
“It say following dialog:
Rev. Mr.——, Do you love this woman?
Bridebroom—No.
Rev. Mr.——, Woman, you love this man?
Bride—No.
Rev. Mr.—— Good. You have no inherited instinct. You swear there is no fits, insanity or general ability in family? (They swear.)
Then stick out tongues, please. That will do, thank you. I make you manandwife.”
Miss Tessie Matsuki look to me reproachly when saying this.
“What happen pretty soonly after marriage?” I snuggest.
“Baby,” she pronounce. “He are born perfect without a blamish or any other sign of humanity. He are gave perfectly balanced name like Sandow Socrates Shakespeare Scagg. In babyhood he are never kissed. In schoolday he are never spanked. In manhood he are never loved. And so he grow upward.”
“What do he become, after so much exercise—a Congressman, perhapsly?”
“How could he? Congressman are noted for imperfection.”
“Then perhapsly he would be novelist or play-right?”
“Ah never yet!” she snatch. “How could perfect Man be connected in trade with Jack London, Gus Thomas and other rough boys?”
“Yet there might be some jobs for him. He could be machinery engineer of prominent greatness.”
“Not possibly!” she reject. “Should we permit such model gentleman to build subways for political scandals?”
“But this Eugenics Baby must choose some activity of work. Shall he be too good for any profession when grown up?”
“Indeed will!” she holla. “He will be a Father.”
“Father of what?” I require with alarmed teeth.
“Of children similar to himself.”
“Miss Tessie Matsuki,” I denominate punctually while choosing my hat from table, “excuse my escape. I wish for search out some young lady who will prove her unfitness to marry by falling in love. Please excuse!”
“Uncivilized brain!” she snarrel. “Go forthly! Such depraved minds like yours drive tacks into the feet of Science when he try to progress. And yet the world do move, in spite of Tammany Hall.”
“Tammany Hall also move occasionally,” I corrode with Fusion expression.
So I elope away full of low character.
Hoping you are the same,
Yours truly,
Hashimura Togo.