ime, strength, and
money to secure these blessings for the women of the State, they would
gruffly tell her that they had all the rights they wanted, or rudely
shut the door in her face; leaving her to stand outside, petition in
hand, treating her with as much contempt as if she was asking alms for
herself. None but those who did that work in the early days, for the
slaves and the women, can ever know the hardships and humiliations that
were endured. But it was done because it was only through petitions--a
power seemingly so inefficient--that disfranchised classes could be
heard in the State and National councils; hence their importance.

The frivolous objections some women made to our appeals were as
exasperating as they were ridiculous. To reply to them politely, at all
times, required a divine patience. On one occasion, after addressing the
legislature, some of the ladies, in congratulating me, inquired, in a
deprecating tone, "What do you do with your children?" "Ladies," I said,
"it takes me no longer to speak, than you to listen; what have you done
with your children the two hours you have been sitting here? But, to
answer your question, I never leave my children to go to Saratoga,
Washington, Newport, or Europe, or even to come here. They are, at this
moment, with a faithful nurse at the Delevan House, and, having
accomplished my mission, we shall all return home together."

When my children reached the magic number of seven, my good angel, Susan
B. Anthony, would sometimes take one or two of them to her own quiet
home, just out of Rochester, where, on a well-cultivated little farm,
one could enjoy uninterrupted rest and the choicest fruits of the
season. That was always a safe harbor for my friend, as her family
sympathized fully in the reforms to which she gave her life. I have many
pleasant memories of my own flying visits to that hospitable Quaker home
and the broad catholic spirit of Daniel and Lucy Anthony. Whatever
opposition and ridicule their daughter endured elsewhere, she enjoyed
the steadfast sympathy and confidence of her own home circle. Her
faithful sister Mary, a most successful teacher in the public schools of
Rochester for a quarter of a century, and a good financier, who with her
patrimony and salary had laid by a competence, took on her shoulders
double duty at home in cheering the declining years of her parents, that
Susan might do the public work in the reforms in which they were equally
int