he
house, and there fell on the listening ear, "An abolition
affair!" "Woman's rights and niggers!" "I told you so!" "Go it,
darkey!"

I chanced on that occasion to wear my first laurels in public
life as president of the meeting. At my request order was
restored, and the business of the Convention went on. Morning,
afternoon, and evening exercises came and went. Through all these
sessions old Sojourner, quiet and reticent as the "Lybian
Statue," sat crouched against the wall on the corner of the
pulpit stairs, her sun-bonnet shading her eyes, her elbows on her
knees, her chin resting upon her broad, hard palms. At
intermission she was busy selling the "Life of Sojourner Truth,"
a narrative of her own strange and adventurous life. Again and
again, timorous and trembling ones came to me and said, with
earnestness, "Don't let her speak, Mrs. Gage, it will ruin us.
Every newspaper in the land will have our cause mixed up with
abolition and niggers, and we shall be utterly denounced." My
only answer was, "We shall see when the time comes."

The second day the work waxed warm. Methodist, Baptist,
Episcopal, Presbyterian, and Universalist ministers came in to
hear and discuss the resolutions presented. One claimed superior
rights and privileges for man, on the ground of "superior
intellect"; another, because of the "manhood of Christ; if God
had desired the equality of woman, He would have given some token
of His will through the birth, life, and death of the Saviour."
Another gave us a theological view of the "sin of our first
mother."

There were very few women in those days who dared to "speak in
meeting"; and the august teachers of the people were seemingly
getting the better of us, while the boys in the galleries, and
the sneerers among the pews, were hugely enjoying the
discomfiture, as they supposed, of the "strong-minded." Some of
the tender-skinned friends were on the point of losing dignity,
and the atmosphere betokened a storm. When, slowly from her seat
in the corner rose Sojourner Truth, who, till now, had scarcely
lifted her head. "Don't let her speak!" gasped half a dozen in my
ear. She moved slowly and solemnly to the front, laid her old
bonnet at her feet, and turned her great speaking eyes to me.
There was a his