his
logic must compel him to advocate woman suffrage. With a most cynical
smile he said "he was not the puppet of logic, but the slave of
practical politics."

We met most of our suffrage coadjutors in different parts of California.
I spent a few days with Mrs. Elizabeth B. Schenck, one of the earliest
pioneers in the suffrage movement. She was a cultivated, noble woman,
and her little cottage was a gem of beauty and comfort, surrounded with
beautiful gardens and a hedge of fish-geraniums over ten feet high,
covered with scarlet flowers. It seemed altogether more like a fairy
bower than a human habitation. The windmills all over California, for
pumping water, make a very pretty feature in the landscape, as well as
an important one, as people are obliged to irrigate their gardens
during the dry season. In August the hills are as brown as ours in
December.

Here, too, I first met Senator Sargent's family, and visited them in
Sacramento City, where we had a suffrage meeting in the evening and one
for women alone next day. At a similar meeting in San Francisco six
hundred women were present in Platt's Hall. We discussed marriage,
maternity, and social life in general. Supposing none but women were
present, as all were dressed in feminine costume, the audience were
quite free in their questions, and I equally so in my answers. To our
astonishment, the next morning, a verbatim report of all that was said
appeared in one of the leading papers, with most respectful comments. As
I always wrote and read carefully what I had to say on such delicate
subjects, the language was well chosen and the presentation of facts and
philosophy quite unobjectionable; hence, the information being as
important for men as for women, I did not regret the publication. During
the day a committee of three gentlemen called to know if I would give a
lecture to men alone. As I had no lecture prepared, I declined, with the
promise to do so the next time I visited California. The idea was novel,
but I think women could do much good in that way.

My readers may be sure that such enterprising travelers as Miss Anthony
and myself visited all the wonders, saw the geysers, big trees, the
Yosemite Valley, and the immense mountain ranges, piled one above
another, until they seemed to make a giant pathway from earth to heaven.
We drove down the mountain sides with Fox, the celebrated whip; sixteen
people in an open carriage drawn by six horses, down, down, dow