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Essay(s) by (Edgar W. Nye) Bill Nye
Polygamy As A Religious Duty
(Edgar W.Nye) Bill Nye
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       During the past few years in the history of our republic, we have had leprosy, yellow fever and the dude, and it seemed as though each one would wreck the whole national fabric at one time. National and international troubles of one kind and another have gradually risen, been met and mastered, but the great national abscess known as the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints still obstinately refuses to come to a head.
       I may be a radical monogamist and a rash enthusiast upon this matter, but I still adhere to my original motto, one country, one flag and one wife at a time. Matrimony is a good thing, but it can be overdone. We can excuse the man who becomes a collection of rare coins, stamps, or autographs, but he who wears out his young life making a collection of wives, should be looked upon with suspicion.
       After all, however, this matter has always been, and still is, treated with too much levity. It seems funny to us, at a distance of 1,600 miles, that a thick-necked patriarch in the valley of the Jordan should be sealed to thirteen or fourteen low-browed, half human females, and that the whole mass of humanity should live and multiply under one roof.
       Those who see the wealthy polygamists of Salt Lake City, do not know much of the horrors of trying to make polygamy and poverty harmonize in the rural districts. In the former case, each wife has a separate residence or suite of rooms, perhaps; but in the latter is the aggregation of vice and depravity, doubly horrible because, instead of the secluded character which wickedness generally assumes, here it is the common heritage of the young and at once fails to shock or horrify.
       Under the All-seeing eye, and the Bee Hive, and the motto, "Holiness to the Lord," with a bogus Bible and a red-nosed prophet, who couldn't earn $13. per month pounding sand, this so called church hanging on to the horns of the altar, as it were, defies the statutes, and while in open rebellion against the laws of God and man, refers to the constitution of the United States as protecting it in its "religious belief."
       In a poem, the patient Mormon in the picturesque valley of the Great Salt Lake, where he has "made the desert blossom as the rose," looks well. With the wonderful music of the great organ at the tabernacle sounding in your ears, and the lofty temple near by towering to the sky, you say to yourself, there is, after all, something solemn and impressive in all this; but when a greasy apostle in an alapaca duster, takes his place behind the elevated desk, and with bad grammar and slangy sentences, asks God in a businesslike way to bless this buzzing mass of unclean, low-browed, barbarous scum of all foreign countries, and the white trash and criminals of our own, you find no reverence, and no religious awe.
       The same mercenary, heartless lunacy that runs through the sickly plagiarism of the Book of Mormon, pervades all this, and instead of the odor of sanctity you notice the flavor of bilge water, and the emigrant's own hailing sign, the all-pervading fragrance of the steerage.
       Education is the foe of polygamy, and many of the young who have had the means by which to complete their education in the East, are apostate, at least so far as polygamy is concerned. Still, to the great mass of the poor and illiterate of Mormondom this is no benefit. The rich of the Mormon Church are rich because their influence with this great fraud has made them so; and it would, as a matter of business, injure their prospects to come out and bolt the nomination.
       Utah, even with the Edmunds bill, is hopelessly Mormon; all adjoining States and Territories are already invaded by them, and the delegate in Congress from Wyoming is elected by the Mormon vote.
       I believe that I am moderately liberal and free upon all religious matters, but when a man's confession of faith involves from three to twenty-seven old corsets in the back yard every spring, and a clothes line every Monday morning that looks like a bridal trousseau emporium struck by a cyclone, I must admit that I am a little bit inclined to be sectarian in my views.
       It's bad enough to be slapped across the features by one pair of long wet hose on your way to the barn, but to have a whole bankrupt stock of cold, wet garments every week fold their damp arms around your neck, as you dodge under the clothes line to drive the cow out of the yard, is wrong.
       It is not good for man to be alone, of course, but why should he yearn to fold a young ladies' seminary to his bosom? Why should this morbid sentiment prompt him to marry a Female Suffrage Mass Meeting? I do not wish to be considered an extremist in religious matters, but the doctrine that requires me to be sealed to a whole emigrant train, seems unnatural and inconsistent.
       [The end]
       (Edgar W. Nye) Bill Nye's essay: Polygamy As A Religious Duty
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"Done It A-Purpose"
"Heap Brain"
"I Spy"
"We"
About Geology
About Portraits
Absent Minded
Accepting The Laramie Postoffice
All About Menials
All About Oratory
Along Lake Superior
The Amateur Carpenter
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Answering An Invitation
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The Approaching Humorist
The Arabian Language
Archimedes
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Asking For A Pass
The Average Hen
B. Franklin, Deceased
Biography Of Spartacus
The Bite Of A Mad Dog
The Blase Young Man
The Board Of Trade
Boston Common And Environs
A Bright Future For Pugilism
Broncho Sam
Bunker Hill
A Calm
Care Of House Plants
Catching A Buffalo
Causes For Thanksgiving
The Cell Nest
The Chinese God
Chinese Justice
Christopher Columbus
The Church Debt
A Circular
A Collection Of Keys
Come Back
Concerning Book Publishing
Concerning Coroners
A Convention
The Cow-Boy
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Crowns And Crowned Heads
Daniel Webster
Dessicated Mule
Dogs And Dog Days
Doosedly Dilatory
Down East Rum
Dr. Dizart's Dog
Drunk In A Plug Hat
The Duke Of Rawhide
Early Day Justice
Eccentricities Of Genius
Eccentricity In Lunch
Etiquette At Hotels
Every Man His Own Paper-Hanger
The Expensive Word
Extracts From A Queen's Diary
Farming In Maine
A Father's Advice To His Son
A Father's Letter
Favored A Higher Fine
Fifteen Years Apart
Flying Machines
General Sheridan's Horse
George The Third
A Goat In A Frame
Great Sacrifice Of Bric-A-Brac
A Great Spiritualist
A Great Upheaval
Habits Of A Literary Man
The Heyday Of Life
History Of Babylon
The Holy Terror
Hours With Great Men
How Evolution Evolves
I Tried Milling
In Washington
The Indian Orator
Insomnia In Domestic Animals
John Adams
John Adams' Diary
A Journalistic Tenderfoot
Knights Of The Pen
Letter From New York
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Letter To A Communist
Life Insurance As A Health Restorer
Literary Freaks
The Little Barefoot Boy
Lost Money
Lovely Horrors
A Lumber Camp
Man Overbored
Mark Anthony
Milling In Pompeii
The Miner At Home
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More Paternal Correspondence
A Mountain Snowstorm
Mr. Sweeney's Cat
Murray And The Mormons
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My Dog
My Experience As An Agriculturist
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My Mine
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My School Days
Nero
A New Autograph Album
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No More Frontier
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On Cyclones
One Kind Of Fool
An Operatic Entertainment
The Opium Habit
Our Forefathers
Parental Advice
A Peaceable Man
Petticoats At The Polls
The Photograph Habit
Picnic Incidents
A Picturesque Picnic
Plato
Polygamy As A Religious Duty
The Poor Blind Pig
A Powerful Speech
Preventing A Scandal
Railway Etiquette
Recollections Of Noah Webster
A Resign
Rev. Mr. Hallelujah's Hoss
Roller Skating
Rosalinde
Second Letter To The President
The Sedentary Hen
She Kind Of Coaxed Him
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Sixty Minutes In America
Skimming The Milky Way
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Spring
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Stirring Incidents At A Fire
The Story Of A Struggler
Strabusmus And Justice
Street Cars And Curiosities
Taxidermy
They Fell
A Thrilling Experience
Time's Changes
To A Married Man
To An Embryo Poet
To Her Majesty
To The President-Elect
Two Ways Of Telling It
Twombley's Tale
Venice
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The Wail Of A Wife
A Wallula Night
The Warrior's Oration
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What We Eat
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Woman's Wonderful Influence
Woodtick William's Story
Words About Washington
Wrestling With The Mazy
You Heah Me, Sah!